Chapter Text
Time passed, and each of them interpreted it differently.
Bucky felt it go by too fast. He wanted more time and at the same time wanted it to stop. In that moment too many things inside him were shifting out of place, and he didn’t even dare try to understand what they were. The situation was already complicated enough. Ava, on the other hand, truly felt time move so slowly it was almost torturous. The city moved at a slower pace, almost on purpose, and her mind wandered through the past hour—or the past year—searching for a reason behind the whole situation, something that made no sense to be happening, yet strangely only made sense right now.
The sound of Bucky’s voice was still pounding in Ava’s head. He had asked to be there, in her arms, which on its own could have been considered a manic episode on his part. But it wasn’t that… She had seen it, analyzed every sign, and he was simply defeated, in a way so alarming it explained why he was holding onto Ava at that very moment without showing a single trace of discomfort.
Something had lit up inside her now, and for a long time within that embrace she repeated to herself that it was circumstantial. It was late at night, the city view was beautiful, his body was still warm from the bed he’d been sleeping in, and the taste of tea on her tongue felt perfectly aligned with the moment. It was simply comfortable. Bucky felt the same. It was really late, almost too early in the morning, the night air coming through basically temperature-controlled the room. The view was beautiful—he’d never deny that. Bucky was a focused man, but he could see the beauty she carried, a natural one she didn’t seem fully aware of. Her body radiated a human warmth that made him almost drowsy. She was warm from the shower, from her nightly routine, from the tea, maybe now from him too.
On a more sober day he would never do this—he knew he wouldn’t—but on all the tedious days, the ones where it was possible to forget who they were and why they were here, he caught himself thinking about what could be, under different circumstances. Bucky pushed those thoughts away in daily life, but she was here, and so was he, and maybe it was possible to pretend for a few minutes. But almost an hour had gone by, and they were still like this.
His whole weight was on her. Both his arms wrapped around her waist in a way that gave him support for the weight of his own torso. Ava simply stood beneath the touch. The initial shock had already given way to a relaxation that made room for him. Bucky didn’t let her forget he was there. His hands kept caressing her in an extremely controlled and gentle path, sliding up and down just a few centimeters, as if to say thank you and at the same time forgive me with each touch he offered, and she, curiously, didn’t deny any of it.
It was a complete surprise that she hadn’t pushed him away. She was extremely individualistic and genuinely hated being touched, but what she was doing now was like a lunar eclipse. Ava was stroking his hair, deliberately doing it. When she got tired, she simply rested her arms on Bucky’s shoulder as support, letting him breathe so close to her skin that, on Ava’s bad days, he might have been accused of “invading space and disrespecting personal freedom,” as she often repeated to her colleagues. But that wasn’t happening now. She simply let him be there for some reason he had no hope of defining.
In the end, they both reached the most comfortable conclusion possible: they just needed a moment of affection. It could have been with anyone. Except it couldn’t, and they both knew that, but they didn’t think about it further—it was better that way.
Periodically, Ava would shift just slightly to settle better beneath his weight, and Bucky let her adjust before leaning onto her again. They quickly realized the dynamic worked dangerously well. The silence wasn’t heavy, but little by little they grew more aware of what was happening, and the silence that had once been static, tangible, now grew louder, both with the sound of the city waking up in the distance and with his breathing, still deep, because he really was breathing heavily.
Slowly her body began to tire from the position and the weight, and her muscles began to betray her. She looked at the clock, now reading 4:59 a.m., and reluctantly dragged her hands to Bucky’s shoulder to push him a little away.
“I just need to… sorry,” Ava murmured as she gently shifted him.
The flash of disappointment on Bucky’s face was sudden—no one would have noticed unless they were as close as she was. She saw it, and used everything she had to pretend she hadn’t, just so she wouldn’t think about what that could potentially mean. Ava cracked her neck and back in a practical, quick motion—it was habit. Bucky looked away toward the window and said in a tone loud enough only to be clear, “I’m sorry again.”
Half without thinking, half taken by fatigue, Ava sat on the counter where they had been leaning. She nudged him lightly with her foot as she lifted herself and spoke in a tone that was casual to a fault and not nearly intimate enough. “It’s five in the morning, so you basically have about forty minutes before I start making breakfast for Yelena and the others.”
Bucky looked at her almost in shock—almost. “Are you sure? I know you don’t really like… and it’s been a while since I—” Ava cut him off with a gesture.
“Bucky, I’m not going to insist.” She took a deep breath before continuing in a completely controlled voice. “I know you don’t like showing vulnerability and you still did. You have some reason… and you don’t need to tell me. Just accept being taken care of for once in your life, and I can pretend this isn’t completely new for me, how about that? In forty minutes I go back to despising people and you can do the same if you want.” He let out a loose, disbelieving laugh and murmured an “ok” barely audible.
Bucky stepped closer and instinctively she made space for him to fit between her legs and hug her the same way as before, except now as his arm wrapped around her waist, the metal arm rose to rest with open fingers firmly at the top of her back. In response, unconsciously, she arched her back slightly, as if anticipating the touch and still being surprised by the gentleness of it. She took a deep breath and settled into it. She slid one arm around his neck to rest her hand on the opposite shoulder, and the other hand held his human arm at the bicep, as if caught in an internal struggle between wanting to stay and the strangeness of touch.
After a few minutes, Ava sighed deeply, her chest expanding in a nearly dramatic movement, then slowly let her hand travel down his arm until it rested on his wrist for five seconds, then made the way back up to his shoulder. She stayed there for a few moments. Bucky took advantage of the movement to nestle closer into her shoulder, holding her tighter, but only enough for her to feel a pressure that disappeared as quickly as it came. After a few interrupted breaths, Ava slid the moving hand up to his nape, resting against the skin there for a few seconds before returning to the roots of his hair. She stopped there, and almost as encouragement, Bucky repeated the movement on her waist. They both clenched their jaws at each other’s touch. Nothing was said.
“Buck, are you going to explain anything or can I draw my own conclusions?” Ava tried her best to put some humor in her voice. She didn’t want to sound truly concerned, but she was beginning to form conclusions.
“Please don’t do that.” Bucky shook his head slightly without pulling away. “I’ve had a terrible week. Horrible dreams. I basically didn’t sleep at all… I don’t know what’s going on with me, Ava, but that’s nothing new, I never know exactly what’s wrong.” He paused, waiting for some reaction from her, but she remained silent, giving him space.
“The thing is, I’ve been looking for a moment… like this. Quiet, a little comforting, in the last few days. I’ve been missing my old life, sometimes I remember my time in Wakanda. Everything was so chaotic then, but it felt right, superficially, but right.” Bucky swallowed hard, and in that silence, it was completely audible. Ava was starting to realize he wasn’t nearly as untouchable as he pretended to be. It was painfully ironic, considering where he was now.
Bucky let out a deep breath and held her a bit tighter before loosening the embrace and bracing both hands on the counter beside her body, still keeping his forehead pressed to her shoulder now more for physical support. Ava kept both hands resting at the base of his neck, between the nape and shoulders. She stayed still, patient, just listening.
“Now everything’s so different. Sometimes we don’t even have missions and we just sit around. Sometimes Valentina finds some press work or something so ridiculously performative it makes me sick how much she controls us. I don’t want to live fighting, I’ve done that, you know that, but I want to choose what to do with my life again. I… I can’t explain it, Ava. I just miss him so much that even this simple routine bothers me.”
“Thank you for telling me, Bucky… But that still doesn’t explain this.” Ava murmured against the top of his head, so softly and gently she surprised even herself.
He hugged her again and hid his face. “I don’t know. It’s impulsive. I’m sorry.” He said it quickly, as if wanting to get the question out of the way, but she didn’t repeat it, and he continued, slower. “Seeing you so calm here is strange. Really strange.” His hand slid up and down once. “You barely slept and you look so well. Nothing about this place tells me your nights are bad. And even if they are, you’re acting like you’re completely comfortable. It’s unsettling.”
“I really am comfortable, you know? I learned to love this moment alone.” Ava slid one hand through his hair, intertwining her fingers there slowly as she spoke. “I spent too much time alone, so this strange place with this meaningless routine feels almost refreshing to me. I just sense this place differently, from another angle… Even then, I seek these silences away from everyone… to process.”
Minutes of almost tangible silence passed. Ava could practically hear Bucky’s brain working.
“Ava, can I ask you a stupid question?”
“Mmhm.”
“Why do you like silence so much?”
“I perceive vibrations differently. Stronger, more intense. That’s why sound is a weak point. That piercing noise Valentina used against me… It’s uncomfortable for everyone, but for me it’s genuinely harmful. My instability gets affected, and when that happens, it hurts. A lot.” Ava sighed at the memory. “I like silence because it’s not demanding, and it doesn’t hurt me. It vibrates lightly, I guess? Maybe not… but anyway, I feel more present, more alive, or… I don’t know. More tangible, I think. I feel genuinely tangible.”
Again, Bucky said nothing, but his breathing was soft. Warm air brushed Ava’s collarbone like an exposure of his calmer state. She tried not to pay attention to it, but it was difficult considering the proximity and the repetitive movement he still insisted on making on her waist.
“Makes sense,” Bucky whispered.
“Bucky?”
“Mm?”
“This still doesn’t explain what’s happening right now.” Now Ava whispered, as if trying to hide the reality of the situation.
Bucky lifted his head and rested his chin on her shoulder. “You looked too present, available. Usually you seem a step further than necessary. Physically, I mean. It’s interesting to watch.” He had been watching her. Ava made a mental note without meaning to.
“But you don’t do that with Yelena. You like her, it’s obvious. And that still doesn’t justify anything, but you looked comfortable. Like… you yelled at Alexei yesterday because he grabbed your mug, and you shared it with me now for no apparent reason, and I had a stupid idea. And now I’m here. It’s just strange, I guess.”
“You don’t seem to think it’s strange, honestly.” Ava smiled faintly as she spoke.
“I’m not uncomfortable… Are you?”
“Uncomfortable isn’t the word. Unusual, definitely. So it’s fine.” Ava moved to check the clock. “You have fifteen more minutes, if you want to know.”
Bucky exhaled again, this time audibly. “You’re not going to tell anyone, right?”
“And ruin my reputation? Never.” She went quiet for a few seconds before adding, “We don’t have to talk about this later either. Don’t worry. This can stay here.”
Bucky shifted until his forehead rested against her temple. Ava remained still. He whispered a soft “Thank you, Ava.” And a shiver ran down her spine. She only nodded.
He returned to his earlier position: arms around her waist, hands on each side of her body, face hidden in the curve of her neck. Now, with Ava sitting, he pulled her a little closer to the edge of the counter, just enough for comfort. Ava froze again, but said nothing—better not—and he silently thanked her for not questioning it. After a few seconds, she returned to running her fingers through his hair. One hand in his hair, the other resting on his nape. Bucky kept breathing deeply and she kept paying attention to the city, which was now beginning to show signs of the approaching morning. Still, she felt his weight and the tenderness of his touch that he didn’t soften. And he stayed there, taking in the scent and texture of her skin where he had access, without any apparent reason—or rather, without searching for a plausible reason.
They stayed like that for the next fifteen minutes.
When the clock struck 5:40 a.m., Bucky loosened his hold and began to step back. He stopped once his body no longer touched hers, but his hands rested softly on her hips. He leaned in slowly, touched his forehead to hers, and closed his eyes, leaving a respectful space between them despite the entirely atypical moment. He breathed deeply three times; she breathed once.
Then Bucky whispered, “Alright.”
And Ava whispered back, “Alright.”
Then he stepped away without dragging it out, leaving a gentle squeeze on her hips before moving completely out of her orbit. He walked calmly to the cabinet, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water.
Ava took a few seconds to assimilate the lack of his touch, then stood and began preparing breakfast for Yelena and the others.
Bucky sat on one of the tall stools, alternating his gaze between the waking city and her. When the kitchen was already bright with morning light, he cleared his throat and asked in a more natural tone than he’d used minutes before, “Why exactly do you make her breakfast?”
Ava smiled to herself while pouring the banana-bread batter into the pan. “Once she mentioned she really liked this cake, and I love it too. We talked about favorite foods and things like that. The next day she’d had a rough night, woke up early, and made the breakfast for me the way I’d described it. So I promised I’d do the same, and then we fell into this silent agreement that whoever wakes up first makes it for the other. Considering one of us is always the first to wake up, it always works.”
“That’s really nice. Really.”
At that moment, they both heard soft footsteps in the hallway, and soon Yelena appeared, yawning, clearly just out of bed. She passed by the stool where Bucky sat and ruffled his hair lightly, mumbling, “Good morning, Congressman Barnes,” then walked toward Ava. Yelena stood behind her and rose onto her toes to peek over her shoulder at what she was doing.
“Good morning, Yelena.”
“Moooorning, Ava.”
Ava gave a small laugh and continued cooking at a slow pace.
Yelena glanced at her sideways and went to grab a coffee mug. She sat facing Bucky, who was still looking at the city. She observed him for a few seconds—too calm, too awake for this early. There was no reason for Bucky to look this serene. Then she looked back at Ava, who was working with a lightness almost, almost unusual. Yelena needed five seconds to realize something had happened. She let out a loud, amused laugh that caught both their attention, then said with teasing delight, “Alright, alright… extremely interesting.”
Ava rolled her eyes and focused on what she was doing. Bucky, on the other hand, stared at Yelena, trying to understand what she meant. Yelena just smirked and said to him, “Nothing. I just made a discovery.” And went to help Ava.
Bucky clenched his jaw—she was smart, far too smart. Ava didn’t react, but she knew it was only a matter of time before she was questioned about that night.
Yelena knew them well enough to recognize that tranquility didn’t suit either of them.