Chapter Text
A warm arm drapes across your side and pulls you closer so you're back makes contact with an even warmer chest. Your sleep-addled brain doesn't take time to think about who you might be cuddling with, instead snuggling closer and resting your hand over the one on your side, even going as far as to intertwine your fingers with his.
His?
Shit, it's Bucky's hand.
You yelp at the realisation and in your attempt to get away, you end up flinging yourself off the bed and landing with a thump on the cold, hard floor. Ouch.
"What're you doing?" Bucky's voice is gruffer than usual and he looks annoyed at you for waking him up.
"Nothing." You stand up and pretend to dust yourself off. He doesn't seem to remember the morning cuddles - thank God. You can't believe you held his hand; how embarrassing. You’re still mad at him, but your eyes forget that as they lock onto his. Something flickers between you, but you're quick to brush it off and walk the three steps into the kitchen, hoping that the cupboards have something edible in them.
Bucky quickly follows behind you. "Wait, can we talk?”
“Talk about what?” You feign confusion as you open the dustiest - and emptiest - cupboards you've ever seen.
“Don't play dumb, doll.” Bucky rolls his eyes and leans against the counter, watching your pointless attempts at finding something edible.
“I'm not." You are.
“Yes, you are.” He rubs his temples at your obvious lie. "Why are you being so stubborn?"
“I don't see what we have to talk about.” You wish he would drop it, it would be easier to forget about it that way.
“Last night. Or did you forget?” His condescending tone grates on your nerves.
“Since when did you become a chatterbox.” You roll your eyes. What's with his sudden urge to chat, he avoids you like the plague but now he wants to talk. No way, not happening.
“I want to clear up what happened last night, “ He says matter-of-factly like it was just a silly misunderstanding and not him acting like an asshole.
"Oh, you mean when you almost kissed me?" You blurt out. The bluntness of your statement hits him right in the face and he pauses for a moment not expecting you to outright say it.
"I did not." Looks like you're both being pathetic lairs today.
"Yes, you did." Your voice slightly raises as you keep talking but you don't care enough to try to control it. "You literally gave my lips a heated look then ran away!" You slam the cupboard door shut and get a flashback of the broken mirror from last night. You should calm down.
“I didn’t run away, it was just… a lot.” He pauses for a moment thinking everything over and suddenly looks like he realised something. “But, you know what? You weren't holding back either." He takes on more of a cocky tone. "I saw the way you were looking at me."
"I-" He's right but you'd never tell him that. "You know what? I'm not explaining myself to you."
That was weak and you know it but you couldn't think of anything else to say so you walk away instead. But you can't really walk away from someone in the same room so you just end up opposite him with the only thing between you being the dinner table.
"Just admit it." He leans his hands on the table, his short sleeves lifting slightly and revealing the bandage around his arm, which barely has any blood on it. Damn super soldier healing.
"Admit what?" You cross your arms and take a defensive stance, you do not like the way this conversation is going.
His face turns smug, like he got you right where he wants. "You wanted me to kiss you."
"No, I didn't." Did you? Last night was intense and emotions, for you at least, were running high. Maybe a part of you did want to kiss Bucky, but that part wasn't going to get any more attention. You hate him, you can't forget it.
"Doll, I'm an ex-assassin, I can tell when you're lying ." He looks like he’s enjoying calling you out a little too much, but of course he is. He loves anything that bothers you.
You want to punch that smug grin right off his face. Instead, you opt for frail insults.
“Why do you love annoying me so much? Does it get you off or something.” You huff, desperately trying to think of a way to end the conversation.
“You think about what gets me off, sweetheart?” He raises his brow, a glint of curiosity forming in his eyes.
“That’s not what I meant!” You wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You do not want to think about him getting off. Definitely not. Not thinking about Bucky late at night with his hand in his boxers, a breathless moan escaping from his lips. Nope. Do not want to go there.
You don't need to look in a mirror to know you're blushing, you just pray Bucky doesn't point it out but when has he ever missed an opportunity to tease you?
"Looking a little red there, doll-face." He chuckles and walks around the table until he's directly in front of you.
"You're such a prick." You mutter accepting that you lost this argument, but you promise yourself you'll get him next time.
He leans in, his arms caging you against the table and his lips mere inches from yours. You can feel his hot breath on you as he speaks, his eyes never breaking contact.
"Is that so?" His metal hand reaches up and lifts your chin ever so slightly, the coolness sending shivers down your over-heating body.
The bitterness from earlier is gone, replaced with something you didn't want to name. You should hate Bucky, yet every cell in your body was screaming for you to close the gap between you.
Unfortunately, you only get as far as grazing your lips against his before a phone rings and you jump apart like guilty teens.
“Shit, that’s uh probably Steve,” Bucky mutters, suddenly unable to look into your eyes.
“Yeah, we should um get it.” You’re looking at the floor like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
"I'll, um go then." Bucky hesitates, taking an awkward half-step before committing to walking the full length.
Right as he passes you, you look at him. He's not looking at you. You ignore the stab to your chest.
Once his back is turned to you, your hand goes to your lip, what the hell was that?
Bucky was being… seductive and you were…enjoying it? Oh, this is not good. Not good at all. You need to remind yourself of all the reasons you hate him in the first place before you go kissing him.
He comes back from the call and tells you something about the jet being en route for pickup, so they need to drive to the pickup point. You give a brief nod, not trusting your voice to be stable and grab your bag.
This was going to be a long car ride.