He doesn't have anything else to say that would be any better than finally closing the space between them. His lips brush lightly over hers, almost like a final test, a last change for her to change her mind, make him stop, before there is no going back.
But she doesn't stop him. Doesn't shove him away. And so he tilts her chin up, and pours more of himself into the kiss this time. It's soft, simple, and yet still completely earth-shifting, life-changing, because it's her, like it's always supposed to have been.
Thank Nat for that kissing crash course because she'd have been mortified if she didn't know what to do and messed up this moment. Or not. It's kind of hard to think with the pleasurable buzzing in her head and the even more pleasurable feel of his mouth on hers. And while a part of her expects him to stop, to pull away... he doesn't. They're still kissing.
She probably shouldn't be, but she's giggling when they break off from the kiss. God, it feels like the years have just melted away.
"How long?" she has to ask, running her fingertips down his cheek and along his jaw.
Bucky doesn't mind the laugh, he wishes he could bottle hers and keep it in his pocket for a rainy day.
"Awhile..." he admits with a soft huff of a laugh. "A... really long while..." he chuckles, brushing his nose against hers. "Definitely since before the serum..." That seems important to distinguish. It wasn't something that he'd only felt when she became the definition of peak human condition, it was older than that.
He can probably see the surprise in her eyes. "Really?" Could the signs have been there all along, and she just refused to acknowledge them? Chalked it all up to pity, or a sisterly affection?
"Me too. Since... Coney Island, I think. You know, that time you convinced me to get on the Cyclone and you held my hair while I threw up afterward." She laughs softly. "Thought you'd finally see me if I did something reckless enough."
“Yeah, really,” he kisses the highest arc of her cheek, then presses his forehead to hers so he can see her with his next admission. “I’ve loved you for so long, I don’t think I remember what it was like to not love you…”
He laughs softly at the memory, “God, I remember that. I felt so bad afterwards…” he shakes his head a bit, “So… we have both been in the same position… and too scared to change it… for literal decades…” he snorts softly, “god, we’re idiots, huh?”
It's... strange, to hear him speak that way, because that's exactly how she feels, too. It might have taken a near-death experience (she might jump off planes without a parachute now, but that first rollercoaster ride had been simply horrifying) to make her realize that she loved him, but she knows it had started well before that.
"Hey, up until a minute ago I didn't think I ever had a chance with you," she says with all seriousness. It's not even the alcohol that's making her ramble, just the things she's left unsaid all those years, all those decades. "You were everything a girl could ever want, you know? And you deserved someone who could be there for you, take care of you, give you children, not... leave you a widower at 25 because she just might not wake up one winter morning." Life had been hard enough back then without being ill, and she'd always been sick. "You would've just... wasted away with me. Become unhappy, maybe even grow to hate me. I didn't want that for you. And I didn't want to lose you."
“I didn’t want things to change…” he gives her a soft smile. “I was basically terrified of losing you…” These are no small admissions that he is making right now, and he isn’t entirely sure what’s making it all spill out like this.
He traces one finger feather-light against her cheek, “I love you, Steph…” his fingers brush lightly against her arm, “Your mind,” he kisses her temple, “Your smile,” this one is to her lips, “not what the serum made you.”
"You're an idiot," she says with a laugh. He was never going to lose her. She would fight for him, for them, until her last breath. "But you're my idiot, and I love you."
The couch is somewhat cramped and not very comfortable, but she lies back and tugs him with her. "Now please kiss me," she murmurs, still a little giddy from the alcohol. "That's what you really invited me over for, isn't it?" she teases.
“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Ms. Rogers,” he kisses her cheek, then her neck. “Long as it means I’m yours.”
He falls with her, bracing himself above her with his left arm; it puts him leaning above her now. He nuzzles against her neck, soft, barely-there kisses whispered across skin in a languid manner. “It wasn’t my original intention buuut… I’m not complaining about it happening,” he admits, a quiet hum of words in her ear.
She giggles, in an utterly girlish way that she hasn't done since probably before the serum. "It's actually nice having you on top when you're not trying to kill me," she murmurs with a contented sigh at his kisses. She brings a hand up to his hair, the other to his side by the hip. God, how she's longed to touch him, and now she could, and she's not even thinking about anything more than just kissing and holding each other tonight.
"Did you think of me, then?" she asks, kissing his jaw. "After you left for the war?"
“Yeah…?” he murmurs his words into her neck, trailing kisses slowly across sensitive skin. His entire body feels like a live wire in the best of ways. Every touch from her fingers, every kiss from her lips feels like fire in his veins. He didn’t know how much he missed affection until now, it’s a little overwhelming if he’s completely honest. He nuzzles against her neck again, just slowly breathing her in.
“Jesus Christ, are you kidding?” He mumbles softly, incredulous. His eyes slip shut at the soft brush of her lips along his jaw. “Only every fucking day… did you forget about the locket?”
She's not too far gone in her intoxication that she's forgotten he used to have issues with touch and affection, so while she keeps him close, she makes sure he doesn't feel trapped, that he knows he can pull away anytime and retreat into himself if he needs to. But it sure is something else to be snuggling together like this, to feel him warm and real against her own body.
"The locket?" She looks into his eyes and is surprised by how she clearly understands what he's trying to say now. All the barriers that had been between have fallen away; the programming, the jumbled memories, her own denial of what had been right in front of her all along. "I didn't think you actually brought it with you."
After all, if he wasn't frustrated with her, he didn't seem to be serious about anything. The only times he was was when her mother had died, and whenever she was sick. But she knew he was kind despite how he swaggered around like there was nothing to worry about. She'd believed he would've have done that for anyone else.
He huffs softly, “Why wouldn’t I?” He eyes her curiously. “The thought of getting to see you again is all that got me through some nights, Steph…”
“Yeah… I remember you thought I was joking when I called you my best gal. I got away with a lot of that kinda thing, you know?” He reaches up to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, warm fingers grazing her cheek lightly. “Kinda sad, cause I know I only did because you thought it was impossible for me to really feel that way about you…” Yet, here they are. All these years later and he’s still so in love with her.
"How could I not think that? I couldn't... compete. I couldn't do a lot of things." It sounds so silly now, especially because she's intoxicated. That makes her laugh. "Rebecca was right, we really were idiots."
She catches his hand and turns her head to kiss his palm. "You know I would do anything for you, right?"
“What…?” he huffs a soft, amused sound. “Becca knew?” He definitely hadn’t actively discussed his feelings for Steph with… well, anyone really. Except Morita. But he wasn’t going to be telling any secrets any time soon.
He smiles softly, sliding his thumb across her lips. “You’ve done so much already… can’t you just… stay here…?
"She knew I liked you," she says with a quiet laugh. "I made her promise not to tell. She only agreed after making me promise I'd tell you myself when you got back." Then everything else happened. Several times she'd considered pulling him aside before an op, but then what? If he didn't feel the same way, things would just be awkward, and he was her second-in-command so they couldn't really afford that. If he did — and to her that was a very big, impossible if — he might only worry and get distracted, with both of them fighting for their lives out there.
Between them and now there just didn't seem to be a proper time. Even after defeating Thanos and cleaning up the mess he'd left behind, she didn't think the time was right. Bucky was still dealing with a lot of things. Or maybe she'd just been afraid still.
So this has been a very nice development.
"That's... kind of the plan. I just thought I'd give you some space to deal with... stuff." And Sam to adjust to his new role without her shadow looming over him. It's the only reason she's been scarce, not just dodging public appearances but also being as uninvolved with the rest of the team's activities as possible.
"Then everything went to hell in a handbasket," he says with a soft huff and slight shake of his head; their lives really are crazy.
"You know... I thought about telling you so many times..." he laughs softly, "but I was more afraid of losing you as a friend, and when I actually tried a couple of times, it was just- never the right time, you know?"
Cool, metal fingers run against her cheek, "I appreciate it, but... no more distance, okay?" he tilts her chin up and closes the space between them with a soft kiss.
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dysmorphics) wrote2024-10-16 03:19 pm
no subject
But she doesn't stop him. Doesn't shove him away. And so he tilts her chin up, and pours more of himself into the kiss this time. It's soft, simple, and yet still completely earth-shifting, life-changing, because it's her, like it's always supposed to have been.
no subject
She probably shouldn't be, but she's giggling when they break off from the kiss. God, it feels like the years have just melted away.
"How long?" she has to ask, running her fingertips down his cheek and along his jaw.
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"Awhile..." he admits with a soft huff of a laugh. "A... really long while..." he chuckles, brushing his nose against hers. "Definitely since before the serum..." That seems important to distinguish. It wasn't something that he'd only felt when she became the definition of peak human condition, it was older than that.
no subject
"Me too. Since... Coney Island, I think. You know, that time you convinced me to get on the Cyclone and you held my hair while I threw up afterward." She laughs softly. "Thought you'd finally see me if I did something reckless enough."
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He laughs softly at the memory, “God, I remember that. I felt so bad afterwards…” he shakes his head a bit, “So… we have both been in the same position… and too scared to change it… for literal decades…” he snorts softly, “god, we’re idiots, huh?”
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"Hey, up until a minute ago I didn't think I ever had a chance with you," she says with all seriousness. It's not even the alcohol that's making her ramble, just the things she's left unsaid all those years, all those decades. "You were everything a girl could ever want, you know? And you deserved someone who could be there for you, take care of you, give you children, not... leave you a widower at 25 because she just might not wake up one winter morning." Life had been hard enough back then without being ill, and she'd always been sick. "You would've just... wasted away with me. Become unhappy, maybe even grow to hate me. I didn't want that for you. And I didn't want to lose you."
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He traces one finger feather-light against her cheek, “I love you, Steph…” his fingers brush lightly against her arm, “Your mind,” he kisses her temple, “Your smile,” this one is to her lips, “not what the serum made you.”
no subject
The couch is somewhat cramped and not very comfortable, but she lies back and tugs him with her. "Now please kiss me," she murmurs, still a little giddy from the alcohol. "That's what you really invited me over for, isn't it?" she teases.
no subject
He falls with her, bracing himself above her with his left arm; it puts him leaning above her now. He nuzzles against her neck, soft, barely-there kisses whispered across skin in a languid manner. “It wasn’t my original intention buuut… I’m not complaining about it happening,” he admits, a quiet hum of words in her ear.
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"Did you think of me, then?" she asks, kissing his jaw. "After you left for the war?"
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“Jesus Christ, are you kidding?” He mumbles softly, incredulous. His eyes slip shut at the soft brush of her lips along his jaw. “Only every fucking day… did you forget about the locket?”
no subject
"The locket?" She looks into his eyes and is surprised by how she clearly understands what he's trying to say now. All the barriers that had been between have fallen away; the programming, the jumbled memories, her own denial of what had been right in front of her all along. "I didn't think you actually brought it with you."
After all, if he wasn't frustrated with her, he didn't seem to be serious about anything. The only times he was was when her mother had died, and whenever she was sick. But she knew he was kind despite how he swaggered around like there was nothing to worry about. She'd believed he would've have done that for anyone else.
no subject
“Yeah… I remember you thought I was joking when I called you my best gal. I got away with a lot of that kinda thing, you know?” He reaches up to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, warm fingers grazing her cheek lightly. “Kinda sad, cause I know I only did because you thought it was impossible for me to really feel that way about you…” Yet, here they are. All these years later and he’s still so in love with her.
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She catches his hand and turns her head to kiss his palm. "You know I would do anything for you, right?"
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He smiles softly, sliding his thumb across her lips. “You’ve done so much already… can’t you just… stay here…?
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Between them and now there just didn't seem to be a proper time. Even after defeating Thanos and cleaning up the mess he'd left behind, she didn't think the time was right. Bucky was still dealing with a lot of things. Or maybe she'd just been afraid still.
So this has been a very nice development.
"That's... kind of the plan. I just thought I'd give you some space to deal with... stuff." And Sam to adjust to his new role without her shadow looming over him. It's the only reason she's been scarce, not just dodging public appearances but also being as uninvolved with the rest of the team's activities as possible.
no subject
"You know... I thought about telling you so many times..." he laughs softly, "but I was more afraid of losing you as a friend, and when I actually tried a couple of times, it was just- never the right time, you know?"
Cool, metal fingers run against her cheek, "I appreciate it, but... no more distance, okay?" he tilts her chin up and closes the space between them with a soft kiss.