Back to Barnes // the winter soldier

13: plans

     A few days passed in tense hush. Well, in my mind. To him, nothing was that wrong aside from me being a bit on edge. But I was spending every waking moment, paranoid, searching for anything out of place. I rationalized it, too.

Fury had loosened the tie on the rules for the time being. Steve must have talked to him because I was allowed to leave Bucky in my room. Though, as I could find fault in everything, even though he was infinitely more comfortable, he didn't deserve confinement at all. On the other hand, I didn't want him roaming the halls. Yet.

I walked around the room, grabbing up a few stray items of clothing, food wrappers, and the few books Bucky had attempted to read. It's not that he couldn't read, it just didn't interest him. He recalled that it used to; said he was an absolute nerd - he just didn't enjoy it now. Regardless, I urged him to. I showed him my favorite books, at which he sighed and reluctantly started skimming through.

He was sat at my vanity, looking through my beauty products in a bored manner and humming to the quiet music from my phone. "What do you think they see?"

I stood up straight and glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

He bobbed his head towards the door. I scanned the door, confused. I looked towards the top, and then I saw it. The surveillance cameras I helped make. They actually installed them above my door while I was gone.

"When'd they do it?" I asked coolly. It didn't exactly bother me. I mean, it's not like I was ever nude, just walking around, and I never did anything immature or embarrassing. I had no reason to feel flush. But damn, give a girl notice before breaking the law maybe.

"Same day." He replied, referring to the day Fury and Steve tried to take him back to the cell. "The one with the eyepatch did it. Don't know where the other guy was. He told me to keep quiet or ..." He exhaled, returning to reading the ingredients on my blush.

"Or what?" I asked, tossing a shoe into the closet.

He shook his head, shrugging nonchalantly. "Nothing."

I nodded, knowing not to pry it out of him. "Well, what do you think they think they see?"

He chuckled softly. "They see what they want to see. Doesn't matter what's actually happening."

I choked out a bitter laugh. "You're probably right. They probably see me laying it on thick, trying to have my way with you."

He glanced my way and smiled ever so slightly. "Don't tell me that's not what you're doing."

I looked him in the eye for a few lingering seconds, my smile matching his. "You never know," I replied softly, almost incoherently.

We went back to silence, listening to the slow music while we tended to our previous activities. He was flipping through my copy of an old mafia thriller, full bottom lip between his teeth. I folded up a pair of shorts as I thought.

"Bucky, c'mere," I held my hand out, throwing the shorts on the bed. He, unlike all of those times I asked him to trust me and he didn't, immediately grabbed my hand and stood up. Of course, it was his flesh hand because he still wasn't so sure about touching me with his bionic one.

I lead him over to my phone and turned the volume up on Fallingforyou by The 1975, which he had expressed interest in earlier. 

"Now dance with me. Let's give them what they want." I brought myself to the position. This time, he was slightly more okay with a smaller gap between us. He lightly placed his right hand in mine, curling them towards his chest as his left one gently found the small of my back. I smiled blissfully and placed my left ear to his chest. My eyes closed as we swayed and I could sense a new comfort - a bit less stiffness - in the way he danced.

The lyrics sounded softly in my somewhat large room. The lead singer crooned. "I think I'm fallin', I'm fallin' for you."

A minute or so passed and he kissed the top of my head as the song repeated. I pushed aside the butterflies in my stomach, diverting the focus to who Bucky was becoming. I could feel only pride in him. Within a few months, there was a vast improvement. He trusted me, he was more well-spoken, he laughed when he wanted to, his anger fell to a minimum. I was proud. I could see someone loving this Bucky. It only brought me back to my original thought:

I couldn't let him go. If things happened as the team assumed they would, I'd have to find another way. He can't go. I can't leave him.

His head rested against mine, a slow exhale escaping his lips. The pop of the electric fireplace beside us lulled along with the song, and I realized I hadn't felt more at peace in quite some time than I did then. It was mind-numbing in a good way. Like my thoughts were faded and I could only feel the physical. Bucky's touch, the heat of the fire, the touch of the carpet underneath my toes, and how we were in-step, with no shin-knocking like we had in the beginning. I held Bucky tighter. His chest responded under my touch as I ran my hand up to his shoulder. He sighed softly when my cold hand traveled up his neck.

The song eventually faded out and played on to something else, and I pulled away.

"How do you think we did?" I asked softly, my breathing finding its way back to normality.

He looked down at our feet, hair falling from his shoulders. When he looked back up, there was a hint of a smile on his face. He continued holding my hand, bringing it up to his lips and placing a soft kiss against my knuckles. "I think you have pretty good plans."

I sure fuckin' hope so.

We went back to our tasks as my brain picked up in speed. Bucky and I talked a lot about his emotions, and how he was doing. We laid in my bed or on my floor, side by side, or my head on his chest, or face-to-face with legs in opposite directions, mere inches apart. There were moments of silence when I could hear his breathing pick up and I could only guess that mine did the same, but every time we got close, one of us ended up clearing our throats and getting up, moving away. We talked a lot about him. We talked some about me. We didn't talk about us. Was there anything to say? Maybe I was overthinking it. He was just recovering from trauma and I was the only woman in his path. Surely it meant nothing.

But still, I stood there with a half-folded towel in my hands, frozen, staring at the man at my vanity, longing for him. To know him, to hold his face in my hands and just kiss him, to live with him as normal people did.

I puffed and finished folding the laundry, excusing myself to the bathroom to cool down for a minute. I leaned against the sink and stared at myself in the mirror, wondering how many ways SHIELD could come at me for abuse of power if they saw what was in my head.