This is not the Endgame

Softly smile, I know she must be kind

Bucky found himself increasingly looking forward to Saturday. He selected a nice-looking restaurant for lunch, put the GPS coordinates into his phone, and downloaded the directions to the orchard, just in case. The day was supposed to be warm, so he gassed up the motorcycle and washed it, borrowing an extra helmet from work. He worked hard on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings, conducting his surveillance activities and information gathering so that he could stop by Ava's apartment on Tuesday and Thursday night after she'd been home long enough to eat and relax. They talked, getting to know each other as they were now, and when she suggested the game each time, was prompt to agree. On Tuesday, this meant that the kissing was slightly more vigorous, and she introduced a nip to his lower lip that immediately captured his interest. On Thursday, she ran her hands through his hair and used her tongue a little, flicking at his lips. He enthusiastically followed where she went, although as normal, her hair was up in a braided knot. It felt smooth and silky under his fingertips, however.

He was prompt at her door on Saturday, smiling in response to her greeting. When she learned that they were going on his motorcycle, she looked a little apprehensive. "I haven't ridden very much." Shit. He should have anticipated this. He felt like an idiot.

"I can get a car--"

"No, this will be a new experience," she said. "I just have some questions."

"Of course. Whatever I can answer."

"I'm not trying to put you on the spot or question your competence," she said nervously. "But you're ridden with passengers, right?" He flashed back. Normally his passengers had been Hydra operatives on the occasions when he'd worked with another individual or team; he'd had extensive training.

"I have. I have a motorcycle endorsement on my drivers license, and I have insurance," he said promptly. He knew a lot of people didn't bother with either these days.  "I have a helmet for you."

"Had any crashes?"

"Not since the Snap, and only a few in the years before. I'm older and wiser now." As he hoped, that made her smile. His Hydra training had included forced accidents so they could see how much trauma he could endure. He decided  not to mention this.

He waited patiently as she thought a moment and put a windbreaker over a short jacket suitable for their fall weather, and she rummaged in the armoire, coming up with heavy leather winter gloves.

"How's this?" she asked.  He assessed her appearance; she was wearing jeans and what looked like work boots, a sensible choice for a ramble out of doors.

"You look good," he said, and cleared his throat when his voice went husky. She smiled and went up on her toes to give him a light kiss as they moved into the hall. They walked over to the garage, and he asked questions about her week and her work, interested in what a civil engineer actually did. At the bike, he showed her the exhaust system and provided warnings about what not to touch. She looked nervous but put on her helmet. He checked the fit; it was good, and he explained the order of getting on and off the bike, the importance of keeping her feet on the pegs, even at a stoplight. He got on the bike, putting the kickstand up, and she got on behind him.

"During braking or acceleration, you may find yourself being pushed up or back on the seat. don't worry; it's not going to bother me if you slide up against me. If you'd like more control, you can grip with your legs. It happens sometimes that helmets bump, and that's not a problem. Are you comfortable?"

"I am," she said. "It feels kind of weird that my seat is higher than yours, though."

"Good. The thing with the seat is so that you can see past me when we're riding," he said, divining her discomfort. "It's safe, you're not going to go ejecting over the top if we stop hard." He'd guessed right; she looked relieved. "Communication is necessarily limited, but if you pat me, I'll stop. Severity of the problem is dictated by the number of pats; one is 'when convenient' and three is 'urgent.'  When we're making turns or going around curves, keep your weight right where it is, lean into the turn slightly, and I'll take care of the rest. Put your hands on my waist, not my shoulders or arms, because that can impair my driving ability.  Any questions or concerns?"