Hell Bound

Twenty-Four

I woke in the morning to the sound of scratching and thumping from the attic. I must have jumped because I felt a metal arm wrap around my body. I could feel his other arm just under the pillows beneath my head. I rolled onto my back and looked up. Dappled sunlight made shadows on the ceiling. The thumping continued.

"Raccoon," Bucky mumbled from beside me.

He moved his arm again and pulled me closer. His hair tickled my face, and his nose was pressed against my cheek. So I rolled to my side and slid my hand over his shoulder. Then it seemed to take on a mind of its own and moved up to cup his face. He had his eyes closed still, but I wanted to kiss him. And with the way he was gripping me, I guessed the feeling was mutual. Our bodies weren't touching. His hand moved, gentle but daring, up the back of my shirt. I pressed my lips against his chest. My leg slid between his. Then I dragged my lips to the hollow of his throat. I could feel him gulp. We were both breathing shakily, and I was finally about to reach up and kiss him when I heard the door open across the hall.

We both froze. I didn't even realize how heavily we'd been breathing until we were forced to remember we weren't alone in the house. I could feel his pulse thumping quickly. The floor creaked in the hall, and then Graham knocked. Bucky let out a sound of exasperation.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Can you give me a ride?" Graham replied.

"What?"

"A ride? I need to turn in these job applications." I glanced up at Bucky, and his jaw had gone tight. His eyes were dangerously narrowed, but he looked more irritated than homicidal. I moved to climb out of bed, but his arm shot out and wrapped around my wrist again.

"Don't go," he whispered. His fingers splayed out, gripping my hip in his cold metal hand.

I sat still for a moment as I tried to figure out what to do. He was sprawled out and warm in my bed. With messy hair and eyes that were vibrantly blue in the early morning sun. Then I glanced at the door and thought about leaving this spot to ride around the city with Graham. He'd probably make comments about Bucky being in my bed. I slid my hand up his arm to cup his face again.

"Just give me a second," I told him. Then I stood up and walked to the door.

I had to readjust my shirt since Bucky had his hand up the back and had taken most of it up with it. I thought we were being relatively innocent in our touching, but the state of my clothes told a completely different story. I cracked open the door and glared at Graham standing in the hall, completely dressed and ready to go.

"Can you give me a ride?" he repeated.

"Just take the car. You have a license, right?"

"Of course I do. I'm twenty-thr..."

"Twenty-three, I know."

"The car won't work. It's got the fingerprint doohicky, doesn't it? I don't want Stark to murder me."

"I'll call him and ask him to give you access. It's my day off, and I want to sleep in."

Then something seemed to click. He looked down the hall at the stairs as if he was putting the pieces together. I'd spent two nights on the couch with Bucky. I'd left the door open each time just so he'd know I wasn't there. But now I was. And I was in no rush to leave. His mouth opened slowly, and he turned back to me with wide gray eyes.

"Don't even start," I warned. His mouth snapped shut.

"Right. I'll just—take as long as I possibly can."