Iron Bloodlines

"What if...I say im sick?"

Elise's POV;

The soft glow of morning light seeped through the curtains, warming the room and coaxing me from sleep. My mind was still hazy, caught somewhere between the quiet of dreams and the reality of being awake. It wasn't until I stirred slightly that I became fully aware of him.

Bucky's arms were still wrapped securely around me, his body warm and solid against mine. His breath was steady, soft and even against the back of my neck. For a moment, I lay still, savoring the comfort of it—the weight of his arm across my waist, the gentle rise and fall of his chest pressing against my back.

I couldn't help but smile as the events of the night before came rushing back, warmth flooding through me. Turning slowly, trying not to disturb him, I shifted to face him.

Bucky was still deep in sleep, his face relaxed, the worry lines that often lingered softened by the tranquility of the moment. His bare chest rose and fell steadily, and I reached out instinctively, wrapping my arm around his waist as I nestled closer.

My fingers grazed his skin, tracing the faint scars that marked his body, a map of everything he'd endured. My chest tightened, a mix of emotions swirling—love, longing, and a quiet ache I couldn't quite name.

I let out a soft sigh, resting my head against his chest as my fingers idly trailed over his back. "So much for taking things slow," I whispered, more to myself than to him.

Then I felt it—his body tensed beneath my touch, his muscles going rigid. The shift was so subtle at first, but it was impossible to ignore. I froze, my fingers stilling, and tilted my head to look up at him.

His eyes were already on me, piercing blue and full of something I couldn't quite place. His jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he were holding back words he didn't want to say.

"Bucky?" I whispered, my voice soft but laced with concern.

He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking away for a moment before settling back on me. The tension in his body didn't ease, and I could see the faint sheen of emotion in his eyes that he was trying so desperately to bury.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice rough and low, like the words were caught in his throat.

My chest tightened, and I shifted to sit up slightly, propping myself on my elbow so I could face him fully. "Sorry? For what?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

His blue eyes searched mine, full of uncertainty. "I had every intention of taking things slow with you," he said quietly, his brow furrowing. "I didn't want to rush back into this. Into us."

I stayed silent, letting him get the words out, my hand resting lightly on his chest.

"I didn't want to make any mistakes," he continued, his voice thick with emotion. "Didn't want to hurt you, or push too fast, or risk... anything." His gaze dropped for a moment before coming back to mine. "But last night... I couldn't stop myself. I didn't want to."

I reached out, cupping his face in my hands, tilting his head so he had no choice but to look at me. "Bucky," I said softly, my voice steady, "last night wasn't a mistake."

His lips pressed together, doubt flickering across his face. "What if I'm rushing things?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You're not," I said firmly, brushing my thumb along his cheek. "Every moment with you has been amazing. But last night felt... different."

His brow furrowed slightly. "Different how?"

I hesitated, not because I didn't know how to answer, but because I needed him to hear me, to really hear me. "It wasn't just about us finding each other again," I said finally. "It was about choosing each other. Really choosing this, Bucky. No hesitation. Nothing else mattered but you and me."