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Today has been a long, rough day. And long, rough days happen. Often. You always manage to wake up in the morning, with Bucky’s arm thrown over your side and his face pressed into your shoulder, and things get better.
But today has just been bad.
Your shower was cold, in the morning. You’d forgotten to do the laundry last night. You’d someone already run out of groceries, because nobody listens to your suggestions to get individual kitchens instead of having a big group one. Alexei had eaten all your pop tarts, John stole your eggs, and you’d had peanut butter and jelly, but not a single slice of bread.
Bucky had found you at the table, eating peanut butter out of the jar with a scowl. And he’d kissed your brow and gently pried it from your hands, before taking you to the twenty-four-hour diner across the street.
“You don’t have to,” you’d mumbled, your face pressed into his shoulder. “‘M fine-“
“Was already up,” he’d shrugged, and you’d known that was a lie. You’d kissed his cheek before you’d gotten out of bed, and all you’d gotten in return was an incoherent grumble. You’d been able to trick him with a pillow instead of your body. He’d been—for once—dead to the world.
But he’d still gotten up. For you.
And that had gotten you through a lot of the morning. It had barely been 5am, but Bucky had still been up, just for you. And he’d grinned at you as he’d watched you eat breakfast, then looped his arm around your waist as you’d walked back to the Watchtower, keeping you pressed right to his side.
But the day had just kept getting worse. You’d pulled into the parking lot at work only to find some dipshit had taken your spot. The coffee pot had been broken, and you’d had to run to the corner store on your lunch to get an energy drink. The whole building was full of incompetent idiots, and you’d had to solve problems a put out three metaphorical—and one literal—fires all day. Finally, the heater had been broken, and by the end of the day your fingers had been a shade off, shaking from the cold.
Bucky had made it better.
Again.
He always made it better, even when his job was ten times as difficult. He’d kissed your knuckles and let you sit behind him on the couch, your face pressed between his shoulder blades and your hands curled on his stomach.
Better. Just for a second, better.
If the day had stopped there, it would have just been better.
But it hadn’t.
And you’re so fucking tired.
The team often had to do these stupid galas. A media circus cloaked as a fundraiser, for Valentina to parade them around and show them off. Everyone hates them.
But at best, it sometimes provides entertainment, to get through the night. Once, security tried to make Yelena get rid of her weapons for safety, and she’d made five grown men cry. Ava gets asked to show off a lot, and you’ve seen her blatantly steal things off of whoever requested a demonstration with a sweet smile—you’ve been practicing that with her, it’s getting better—and the dumbass none the wiser. There’s a running competition to see who can get John on the longest, most pointless speech. Last month, Alexei fit fifty shrimp in his mouth.
You still hate them, but they’re good team building opportunities. And all you usually have to do is cling to Bucky’s side and pretend you want to be there, or hide with Bob in a shadowy corner when Bucky has to go do New Avengers things.
But today was a shit fucking day. And you hadn’t even wanted to go, but if you told Bucky that he’d have to go alone, or he’d not go at all and get in trouble. So you’d put on a dress, sucked it up, and pushed through. Ignoring to odd looks people gave you on Bucky’s arm, smiling politely and making small talk with whatever rich people decided you were worth speaking to, and just trying to get to the end of night.
“I have to go pee,” you’d whispered in Bucky’s ear, and he’d shot you an amused look.
“You askin’ my permission, doll?”
“No, I’m just telling you, buttface.”
“Buttface?” He’d tugged you a little closer, and you’d squirmed.
“I need to pee, Buck, please-“
He’d hummed, giving you a deep, firm kiss that turned all your words into a moan.
“Y’know, you’re pretty when you say please,” he’d whispered against your lips, and you’d glared at him, shoving his chest.
“I’m gonna kick your ass-“
“And I’m excited to see you try.” He’d grinned, and it was the grin only you ever got. Soft eyes and toothy smile, followed by a kiss the top of your head and a squeeze of your waist. You’d wanted to go home there. To drag him somewhere quieter where you could get on your knees, climb into his arms and never let go, or crawl over him in the dark until he’d exhausted you both, and you could pass out peacefully.
But you’d had to pee.
“Be fast.” Bucky had let you go, nodding in the direction of the bathrooms. “I’ll wait here.”
You’d nodded, given his jaw a quick kiss, and all but run away to the bathroom.
And he had been waiting for you.
But he hadn’t been alone.
This has happened before. Bucky doesn’t hide that he’s dating you, but there are no official posts on social media, or pieces in the news about it. You’d asked for their not to be, for your own sanity and privacy. But the cost that comes with is people throwing themselves at him.
You don’t blame them. He’s beautiful and kind and perfect, and you love him more than anything in the world. You just got lucky that he somehow noticed you, of all people, and somehow earned him loving you back.
It’s what you tell yourself, over and over, when this happens. Bucky chose you. He asked you out, you live with him, he loves you. And you trust him, with a little more than your life. He’d never, ever do that to you. Fuck, you’d been doing laundry a few weeks ago and found his little paper list of ring shit, with your sizing, favorite colors, and locations that might be good for a proposal. Bucky loves you.
But this woman had been beautiful. Perfect hair, and body, and makeup. No bags of exhaustion barely hidden under her makeup. No crooked teeth in her blinding smile. Even her posture had been flawless. And she’d been a lot more forward than the others. A hand on Bucky’s chest that had made him stiffen, and a honeyed smile that had looked designed to get someone into bed.
It had boiled, right under your skin. You’d never be that put together. That sweet and easy, that beautiful, that anything. Then it had spread to rot in the cavity of your chest, and bubbled in your heart.
Bucky loves you.
But he hasn’t made her leave yet. Usually he makes them leave right away, but you’re also usually on his arm.
You don’t want to think about it. If you think about it too hard, your eyes are going to sting, and you’ll choke on the air around you. You’re so tired, and all you ever do is ask things of Bucky. All you do is shuffle back to the nobody wants us here corner with Bob, and lose a game of solitaire on your phone. Maybe the woman is finally opening his eyes to the fact that he deserves more than a broke, needy civilian that can’t even make herself breakfast. And he’s going to find you and tell you that, and you’re going to have to go to work tomorrow without him tucking your hair behind your ear and whispering that he loves you against your lips-
He wouldn’t do that. You know he wouldn’t. He’s probably just having a harder time giving her a reason to leave, without you there.
But it doesn’t stop that sore, bitter feeling. And it’s been such a shit day.
You just want to go home.
But Bucky has to stay here, with all the people made of the same diamonds and stars that he is. So, until you’re no longer the one he keeps at his side, you do too.
“Hey.”
You blink up—you lost again, people aren’t supposed to be able to lose solitaire a such a high rate—and a man that isn’t Bucky is standing over you. He’s got slicked back hair and cold, almost dead looking eyes.
“Hi,” you frown at him, and you shouldn’t have told Bob you wanted some water and food too. He would’ve been back by now, and you wouldn’t be alone. “Can I help you?”
“Maybe,” the man’s voice is almost a purr, and it’s crawling over your skin. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing here, all alone?”
“I- I’m not alone-“
The man laughs, and shoots you a wink. “Well, course not. You’re with me now.”
You blink at him for a second, and it’s been too long a day to properly filter yourself, and you can see Bucky and the woman, whenever you close your eyes. You shouldn’t say anything. You’re supposed to be on your best behavior.
But you’re not.
“Is that supposed to work on me?” You ask bluntly, and the man blinks. “Am I supposed to spread my legs and let you fuck me, now?”
“Wow.” He laughs again, and he’s not backing down. “You’re a mouthy one, sweetheart. I think that fucking thing you mentioned sounds like a plan-“
“No, it doesn’t.” A smooth, black and gold hand appears on the man’s shoulder, and he’s yanked away for you with an undignified squawk.
Bucky’s glare is more violent than you usually see it. That’s the glower that villains, politicians, Valentina, and sometimes John gets. All the warmth he saves for you, gone. Just a cold, firm reminder that he could kill anyone in this room, if he wanted.
You’re not sure why it’s here now.
“Mr. Barnes.” The man throws on a winning smile, and Bucky’s glare doesn’t waver. “It’s- I’m a fan-“
“That’s good for you, buddy. Take a walk.”
The man glances back to you. “We were just having a conversation, man, I’m not going to do anything without her permission-“
“You’re not doin’ anything at all.” Bucky side-steps, blocking you from the man’s view, and you might be too tired to track what’s happening. “Get away from my girl. Now.”
“Your- Sorry, I didn’t know-“
“I don’t care. Go.”
You don’t see the man leaving. You don’t need to. All you can see is Bucky turning around to frown at you, almost pinning you between his body and the wall.
“You alright, doll?”
“I’m fine,” you scan over his face, and it’s tight. Angry. “I- I’m sorry-“
“Don’t be sorry,” he grunts. “Not your fault assholes don’t listen ‘less you’re with me.” Bucky pauses, something heavy crossing over his features. “What’re you doing over here?”
You blink at him. “I- I was waiting for you-“
“I was waiting for you. Where I said I’d be.” The heavy thing seems to be sinking deeper. “But you didn’t come back.”
You take a long, deep breath, dropping your brow to his chest. You don’t want to look at him, when you say it.
Bucky mutters your name, his hand tangling in your hair, and you shake your head.
“You were with someone.” You mumble. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”
“Didn’t want to-“ Bucky cuts himself off, and tugs lightly on your hair. “Can you look at me? Please?”
You tip your head back, biting on your lower lip to keep it from wobbling—it’s not working, but this can’t be the thing today that makes you cry—and Bucky’s gaze soft on yours. Demanding, his eyes almost trapping yours to his, a little narrowed as his free hand grabs your chin, but soft.
“Were you jealous, babydoll?”
The sore feeling flares, but now there’s a bigger, needier heat with it. He’s so close to you, and you can feel all the heat from his body, and maybe if you lean up and kiss him until you’re dizzy it will lean a stain of lipstick, that tells everyone he’s yours-
“Answer me.” He leans a little further down, his voice dropping slightly, and you nod weakly.
“I- I’m just tired,” you grab his hand on his chin, just in case he’s going to try and let go. “I trust you, Buck, I promise, I just- I’ve had a bad day-“
“Hey. I know.” Bucky shushes you gently, pressing a kiss to the space between your eyes, and you melt toward into him. “I’m not mad, sweetheart, it’s-“ He shakes his head with a dry chuckle, giving you an amused look. “Hell, what do you think I was just doin’, with the guy all over you?”
You shrug, your eyes wide on his. “I- I don’t know-“
“Yeah, you do.” He keeps his brow against yours, moving his hands to cup your face as he speaks. “I know you’re tired, baby, but you’ve got a big brain. Use it.”
You frown at him. You know what he’s saying, but it’s insane. “But you don’t need to be- You know-“
“Neither do you.” He counters quickly, giving you a pointed look. “I’ve told you, there’s no one else for me. Just you, sweet girl. My girl.” He leans down to leave a sloppy kiss on your cheek, and a softish giggle bubbles in your throat. “No one else is gettin’ close, long as you’re here. Got it?”
“Got it.” You whisper, your arms wrapping around his chest. “I- I love you, Bucky.”
He flushes a little. He always does, whenever you say that. Flushes and tenses for half a second, like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do with himself after.
“Love you too,” he mutters, pressing anther kiss to your cheek. “Let’s go home, doll.”
You blink at him. “Buck, you still have to-“
“Nah.” Bucky takes your hand his, tugging you away from the corner. “Valentina can yell at me later, we’re leaving.”
“But-“
“You’re tired.” His voice is firm as he moves you both through the crowd. “I’m gonna take care of you.”
You shake your head. “I’ll be okay, you don’t have to- I can get through the rest of the night-“
He freezes, grabbing your face again, right in the middle of the room. People might be staring, but you can’t really bring yourself to care. No matter what, all you can see is Bucky.
“You want to get through the rest of the night?” He asks, and you swallow.
“I want to support you-“
“You do support me.” He grunts, his thumb running over your lower lip. “You’re real good to me, doll. Do all my laundry, put up with my nightmares, let me sit with you while you read-“
“You read too.” You mumble weakly, and he shrugs.
“Nah. Mostly stare at you while you read. You get cute.” His eyes narrow again, before you can even fully process his words. “Tell me if you want to stay here.”
You’re not good at lying to him. He’s already had enough of that, and you love him. “I wanna go home,” you whisper. “But-“
“No but.” Bucky takes your hand back into his, giving it one squeeze. “Let’s go”
Maybe you should fight it harder. It’s his job, and you’re supposed to be supportive, not drag him away from work.
But he hates being here too. And he loves you.
So it’s not the worst thing in the world, to let Bucky pull you into a taxi—half sat on his lap, your head pressed into his neck as you try to stay awake—and bring you home.
And right now, Bucky is a man on a mission.
You’re not nearly dumb enough to try and get in the way of that.
Bucky herds you right to the shower, with hands on your hips and soft kisses on your neck. Helps you out of your dress and shoes, but keeps on his suit.
“Are you-“
“I’m gonna change the sheets.” He says, running his hand under the water. “It’s almost warm. Take your time, doll. And call me if you need anything.”
You roll your eyes, shuffling forward to press your face into his chest.
His arm shoots around you in a second, and you sigh against his chest.
“It’s just a shower, Buck.” You reach up to play with the collar of his shirt, giving him your best, pleading eyes. “What if I want you to shower with me?”
“Then I will in the morning.”
You pout, and he just chuckles. There’s the grin again. Just for you. Always just for you.
“C’mon,” he drawls your name, guiding you into the warm steam. “I’ll be back soon.”
You hum, and relax into the water. The tension slowly drifts and falls from your body, and the exhaustion is getting hard to fight. Your eyes are drooping, and your body is just warm, and it would be nice to have Bucky here with you, but he’s not gone for long.
“You wanna watch a movie?” He says, having crept back into the bathroom without you hearing, and you only sigh.
“James, what did we say about sneaking-“
“Wasn’t sneaking.” He grumbles. “Shower is loud.”
You turn it off, and poke your head out to see his arms crossed, a towel slung over his shoulder and a glower on his face. He’s made himself busy. His pants and shirt are ones you know were dirty this morning, and he’d lit a candle to help you relax. He keeps glaring between it and you, like he’s trying to make sure it’s working.
He looks adorable.
You can’t stop the dumb, adoring smile on your face.
“You were sneaking.” You step out of the shower, and try not to take too much pride in the way Bucky’s jaw clenches. “I know you try not to, but one day you’re gonna freak someone out-“
“Don’t care.” He mutters, passing you the towel as you stop right in front of him. “Not freaking you out.” He pauses. “Right?”
“Right. But-“
“You’re all that matters.” He says, his tone firm, and your smile somehow grows.
“You’re going to get shot or something, if you do that to Yelena.”
Bucky snorts. “I can’t sneak up on Yelena, sweetheart.”
That’s probably true. “Well, I still don’t want you to get shot-“
“Not gonna get shot.” He kisses the top of your head, and—the moment the towel is wrapped around your body—scoops you up into his arms.
“James-“
“Got you some chocolate and Chinese food, when you’re hungry.” He carries you out of the bathroom, holding you tight to his chest, as if the walls might try to jump down and take you away. “And tomorrow’s Saturday, so you’re sleepin’ in. Then we can watch a movie.”
You nod, watching the low light shift over his face, every shadow making him even more impossibly handsome. “What movie?”
“We’re still on the Pixar catchup. Next is, uh-“ He frowns at the air for a second. “Cars. The second one.”
You giggle, dropping your face back into his neck. “Oh, you’re going to hate that one.”
“Why’d you think that?”
“Cause it’s a spy movie. Last time we tried to watch a spy movie, I had to turn it off before you gave yourself a heart attack.”
Bucky frowns, lowering you down onto your bed. “It’s a movie about cars.”
“Spy cars.”
“Why the hell are there spy cars-“
“Don’t know, but-“ Your words are cut off with a wide, long yawn, and Bucky grins.
“Feelin’ tired?”
You shake your head, your fingers curling in his shirt, and he chuckles, slowly laying you down onto the mattress.
He did change the sheets. They’re clean and warm and nice, but-
“Don’t smell like you.” You mumble, and Bucky frowns.
“What?”
“Sheets.” You give a pathetic tug of his shirt, trying to get him to lay down with you. “Don’t smell like you.”
Bucky raises his brows. “What do I smell like?”
You let out another yawn before you answer. “Good.”
“Good?” Bucky laughs softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your brow. “You’re exhausted, baby. Go to bed, I’ll be back-“
“No-“ You wrap your arms around his neck, and Bucky could pry you off easy, but he doesn’t. “Stay.”
He says your name with a soft voice. “I have to clean and get your chocolate for the mornin’-“
“Don’t want it.” Just for extra precautions, you wrap your legs around his waist, until you’re all but hanging off his body. “Want you.”
Bucky mutters your name—his arm still moving to hold you against him—and you shake your head.
“You need to rest too, Buck-“
“I’ll rest soon-“
“Hypocrite.”
Bucky pauses, then chuckles right in your ear. “Maybe, yeah. But I can go longer without rest than you, doll. Super Soldier.”
His arm is rubbing slow circles on your back, and you’re so tired, but he’s taking such good care of you. The day is finally getting better, as Bucky shift and flexes above you. And he looks handsome all the time, but this is different. His hair is messy and soft, and he’s wearing sweatpants that let you feel his bulge—pressed too close to where you’re starting to ache for him—and he’s all yours. He smells good, and feels good, and when your eyes blink open, he’s staring down at you so softly. Like you’re the only star in the entire sky, and you’ve fallen right into his hands.
“Bucky.” You whisper, grinding up into him, and his arm tenses. “Please stay.”
“You- Jesus.” He groans, but lowers himself back down. “You need sleep-“
“Can need two things.” You mumble, and he hums, angling his head to kiss right under your jaw, pulling a breathy moan from your lips.
“You gonna rest if I give you what you need?”
You nod, another soft sound escaping your lips, and Bucky lowers you back onto the bed gently. One hand gently cradles your face as he kisses you, long and deep and into the mattress, until you’re writhing below him and your fingers are tugging at his hair.
He grunts, biting your lower lip, and you moan again.
“That’s right,” he mutters, kissing and sucking a tortuously slow line down your neck. “Relax, doll, lemme take care of you.”
You let out a soft, needy sigh, and Bucky shifts above you. Rolling you both onto your sides, and keeping you pinned to his chest as the metal hand palms at your breasts, and the other glides down your stomach with teasing, feather-light brushes.
“Bucky,” you whisper, tipping your head back to meet his gaze as his thumb finds your clit, dragging long, firm circles around it. “Please. Need you.”
His eyes are hooded and blown out, and you’re sure it’s a mirror of your own, desperate expression. “Need me, doll? Just me?”
You nod a little stupidly. “Just you, Buck, always just you- Oh-“
One, broad finger pushes into you, right as his thumb presses right onto your clit and metal fingers brush over your nipples. Then he starts to move, pumping slowly and out of your pussy, and you’re floating. He’s barely even touching you and you’re high on him, almost putty in his arms, the heat pooling in your stomach growing into a small, hungry fire.
“James,” you moan, grinding against his hand, and he hums, picking up the pace. “Fuck, feels so good, I- God-“
Bucky shifts you slightly, pushing in a second finger and a capturing your mouth in a deep, almost bruising kiss. You whine into his mouth, his thumb starting to rub harsh, frenzied little circles on your clit, and you’re going to explode into a stardust and light and Bucky-
“So wet for me,” he mutters, his lips never leaving yours. “Love you so much, love how pretty you look when I touch you-“
“I-“ You whimper, his fingers crooking deep inside you, starting to rub as his thumb hits an almost inhuman place. “James-“
“Gonna cum already, babydoll?” He nips on your lower lip, hissing as you try to grind your ass onto his boner, pressing right into you. “Shit- So needy for me, make the best fuckin’ sounds-“
“Please,” you squirm in his arms, danglingly right on the edge of release. “Bucky, please-“
“I got you,” he mutters your name against your lips, and his metal hand vanishes from your nipples, only to drag down to your already swollen clit, and- “Cum for me, sweet girl.”
Your release washes through you like a wave, and Bucky’s fingers don’t let up on your clit until you’re a shaking, whining mess in his arms. You can’t really hear what he’s saying, likely some low praise about how you feel or look, but you can hear to tone in his voice. Deep and hungry and possessive. Reminding you that you’re his, and he’s yours.
“Bucky,” you whisper, still floating a little. “You- You’re-“
You grind back onto him and he grunts, pinning you a little tighter against him.
“Shit, doll- Sleep.” He sighs, kissing right under your ear and pulling one last soft gasp from your lips. “Said you’d sleep for me.”
“But-“
“You can touch me in the morning. Promise.” He sighs your name, rubbing slow circle on your hips. “Please sleep for me, baby.”
Please.
You can’t deny him if he’s saying please.
And it’s been a shit day, but the night has been perfect. And tomorrow will be better. Maybe even just good.
Bucky’s going to be here, with you, so tomorrow will be good.