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Plot - You've just moved into an apartment with your boyfriend Bucky, and it's laundry day. Bucky doesn't seem to understand why laundry day is so important, though.
Warnings - swearing, mentions of smut.
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(this gif WILL be the death of me I swear to god.)
"Mmm, Jesus, forgot how good you look in my clothes." Bucky mumbles lazily. He's casually looking up at me from bed, while I frantically rush around, trying to figure out whether I should risk making us both coffee out of fear that we'll be late.
"Out of bed." I ignore his compliment as I decide that coffee is the best option, because it's the only way that I'll wake Bucky up other than if I was to throw a bucket of iced water over him.
I drop down to my knees, digging through a cardboard box on the floor that has 'Kitchen' written across it in black sharpie until I find two mugs and slam them on the black kitchen counter, before switching the kettle on and letting it boil.
"Why? It's Saturday, baby." Bucky lazes around, looking at me while he brushes a hand through his messy — and newly short — hair. I dart from the kitchen area to the bedroom area of our open plan apartment, open the wardrobe, and throw the only clean clothes that we currently have onto the bed, telling Bucky to 'get the hell dressed.'
"It's laundry day! We can't miss it, Buck." I quickly shed myself of Bucky's black t-shirt and, even though he's clearly seen me naked multiple times, I swear his eyes widen a little at the sight. "Stop staring and get dressed."
Bucky sits up, his tanned chest and stupidly large biceps — still sort of slick with sweat from the last nights events — are illuminated by the morning sunlight, and then it's me who has to restrain myself from staring.
"Stop staring and get dressed, darlin'." Bucky mocks my words, a smirk working it's way onto his face as he tosses the duvet back off the bed and stands up, throwing his arms behind his head and yawning as he stretches.
Instead of getting dressed like I told him to, Bucky interrupts me when I'm halfway through pulling my jeans on by grabbing me around the waist and pulling me in for a kiss. It's soft at first, like he's just giving me a cute little good morning kiss, but, in true Bucky Barnes fashion, his tongue runs over my bottom lip provocatively and I end up having to shove him off, trying hard to contain the giggle that's rising in my throat.
"Bucky get dressed." I whine, buttoning my jeans and shrugging on the same camisole that I've been wearing for the past two days. "Unless you want to go to the laundry room in your boxers."
Bucky smirks, pulling on the only pair of black jeans that he has that don't need washing, and then sitting down on the bed. He pulls me in between his legs by placing two large hands on the backs of my thighs.
"You'd love that, though, wouldn't you sweetheart?" Bucky has that look about him that drives me crazy, the one that he always has when he's about to tease me relentlessly. "You'd love to show me off, huh? Show everybody in this apartment building what's yours." He presses a kiss to the space below my belly button, letting butterflies loose in my stomach.
I roll my eyes and huff at him, smacking his chest while he chuckles lowly at my frustration. "No, for your information, I would not love that. You know what I would love? For you to put a fucking shirt on and carry the laundry baskets downstairs because they're too heavy for me."
"Because you're weak." Bucky's laugh is strained as he wraps his arms tightly around me and lies back on our un-made bed, pulling me with him so that I'm laying on his chest, even if I am trying my best to fight him off. "Why do we even have to go?"
"Because," I eventually give up with the fighting against Bucky and clasp my hands around the back of his neck. "Winter Soldier, we have no clean clothes anymore since someone," I glare pointedly at him, "didn't do the washing before we left the compound."
Bucky cocks an eyebrow. "You're still mad about that?" I smirk and nod, and Bucky throws his head back onto the white pillows on the bed. He stays like that for a few minutes, and I play with his hair as I nearly forget why I'm mad at him.
He pulls his head up a little, as if he's admiring me lazily from afar. "You know, we don't have to wear clothes." Bucky says like it's the most obvious thing in the world, raising one eyebrow.
I groan and smack his chest again, trying hard to wriggle out of his grasp. Of course, it doesn't quite work — damn super soldier serum — and Bucky flips me over so that I'm lying on my back and he's over me. I giggle, trying to push him off, but he just laughs at me and moves his head so that he can kiss the exposed skin of my shoulder.
"Bucky, get off, seriously!" I whine, pleading with him desperately. There's a small part of me that's actually mad at him, but I seem to forget quickly about that part of me when I look back up into his steel blue eyes.
"You know you want to stay like this." Bucky says matter-of-factly. I hate him for doubting that one serious part of me, but I hate him even more for being right.
"I'm not kidding, Barnes."
"Oh, come on, you're not really mad."
"James!" I wail, pushing him again.
"Oh, you are mad." Bucky comes to a realisation while chuckling at me, smiling that beautifully annoying smile. "You only call me James when you're mad. Or when we're fucking-"
"James. Buchanan. Barnes!" I giggle, finally getting the willpower to slip myself out from under him and sitting on the edge of the bed again. Bucky laughs and finally goes to get the goddamn laundry baskets.
I close the wardrobe - which has been open the entire time - and Bucky swiftly opens the door to the apartment, holding both of the laundry baskets which were too heavy for me in one hand.
"Come on, baby, it's laundry day, we gotta get going." Bucky teases as he dangles the keys to the door in front of me. I walk over, grinning, and smack his arm before snatching the keys from him.
"You know how much of an asshole you are?" I ask, stepping out into the hall and pulling the door shut behind me. Bucky puts the laundry down and pins me against the door, kissing me roughly.
The feeling that I get from Bucky's lips being on mine is something that I have never felt with anyone else. My whole body feels like it has an electrical current running through it, and I genuinely feel weak at the knees.
We're interrupted by another couple, slightly older than us, walking past. They're staring at us like we're about to have sex right there, outside our apartment, and Bucky turns around, pointing at the laundry basket sitting on the floor next to us.
