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“Stop squirming.”
“You’re getting too close to my eye.” Bucky pulls away from his face to glare down at him, the incessant whining is making her debate waxing his brows off.
“Maybe if you sat still for a moment, I wouldn’t be.” Brock’s eyes narrowed but he stills with further protests, and she dips her fingers back into the container of her favorite face mask. She continued to gently smear the gold-flecked red clay on the more damaged areas of his skin, shushing lightly when she sensed a whine building.
It was her idea, of course, to do this. But it’s supposed to be for his benefit, despite the many, many times he’s assured her that his skin was fine. Really how was she to trust the man that openly admitted that he’d rarely used the burn cream after the first months after he’d been released for the hospital. He was on the run he says, he couldn’t reach everywhere he says, it wasn’t helping he says; all Bucky heard was pitiful excuses. She has to suffer through watching him dab water on his face in the name of skincare everyday, he could deal with proper skincare for 2 hours.
She could feel eyes following her movements as she massaged the cleanser onto her skin. “Why do you do it?” He finally asked, like he still couldn’t comprehend the idea of self care despite her explanations for the past 5 months. Oh lord, give her strength before she maimed her man.
“It’s to help your skin. All the softness sticks around because of this shit.” She said, fingers kneading the apples of her cheeks expertly as she turned to him with all the wide eyed innocence she has. “‘Sides, it's relaxing. It’s fun, a concept I know you don’t understand, it’s ok though I still love you. But-,”
“I’m fun,” he cut in, miffed. She raised an eyebrow and he crossed his arms over his chest, bare with the scars on display like most afternoons nowadays. “I am.” She raised a brow as she hid a grin.
“Prove it.”
And alpha male tendencies have never let him turn down a challenge.
That’s how he wound up sitting at the edge of the bed, towel over his lap while Bucky kneeled over him wearing one of his shirts, one knee on the bed while the other was wedged between his spread thighs, with some sort of spicy strawberry smelling concoction on his face. If he’s being honest, the look on Bucky’s face— the one she gets when she’s concentrating really hard, eyebrows furrowed while mauling her tongue— was enough to make it all worth it.
That, and the fact that he gets to hold her thighs to keep her balanced.
Yeah, this was totally worth it.
Bucky had her hair pulled up in a messy bun of sorts, so he’s got a first class view of her long neck. He can see the tendons shift under her skin as she surveys her work to make sure she hasn’t missed any spots. He sorta wants to lean forward and bite it, but he likes having his dick in place so he ignores the urge for now.
She wipes her hands with the wet towel she brought along. “Okay, all done.” Bucky tries to shift out of his lap but Brock’s hands weren’t letting up their hold. Not that she couldn’t break away from them but Brock wasn’t the type to do anything without consent so she wasn’t too worried. Maybe she also likes the feeling of how easily his hands wrap around her thighs, she’d never admit to it of course but still.
“What’s up?” Blinking a couple of times at the question before his eyes shift to meet hers.
“Nothing.” He says. “Just can’t believe you’d choose me of all people when you’re, well, you.” Her entire expression softens, she smiles at him and he melts a little inside at the happiness she radiated despite the simmering red covering the majority of her features.
“Brock...” The smile cracks into a full-blown grin. “I’m sorry. It’s just- it’s really hard to take you seriously when you look like a mean strawberry.”
“Christ.” He mutters softly with amusement leaking through despite his best efforts. He was in too deep, there’s no turning back now. She’s got him hook, line and sinker, and he'd never thought he would ever fall in love.
He looked away before he did something he would regret, like attempting to kiss her with the face mask still on. “Alright, when do we get this shit off of our mugs.” Bucky settles on his thigh with a huff.
“You know, sometimes you sound older than me,” She hands him the black container while grabbing her phone. “The instructions are on the side, I’m going to start the timer.”
“God, you’re a brat.” He says. “And technically, I have had more life experience. HYDRA wasn’t exactly letting you live your best life.” He burbled, ignoring the sharp inhale as he shifts her closer so she doesn’t slip off.
He’s watched her do this a thousand times in the time they’ve been together, and he’s not an idiot, so he has a vague idea of the process. He smooths his hand over the baby hairs near her forehead, methodically dragging his fingers through her hair until the makeshift bun ravelled. Once he was sure Bucky was secure, he brought the other hand up as well to untangle the waves. Muscle memory starts him on a fishtail when the plait he’d started proved to be too hard in their current predicament.
“You look so fucking cute right now.” Bucky mumbled, adoration swimming in her voice. He shushes her, concentrating on her hair, glad that mask was covering anything weird his face might be doing otherwise.
He finishes off the braid, tying it off with one of elastics he keeps on hand nowadays. It takes twice as long as it normally would, and when he looks at her once he is done, he catches her looking at him through her lashes before fixing her attention back on her phone. He smirked just a little as his pride flared up. She glances at him again, rolling her eyes when she catches the look on his face.
“Egoistic little shit.” Words a little too fond to have any bite.
“You picked me, you’re with me now.” Her phone chimes with a text as he wrapped his arms around her waist. A shit-eating grin split around Bucky’s face spelling trouble.
“It’s Natasha.” She says like she’s just discovered the meaning of life. “We should totally-,”
“Do not FaceTime her.” Brock cuts her off, but she’s already opening the app. She held the phone at an angle, both of their faces catching in the frame.
Natasha answers on the second ring, despite the late hour in New York.
“Hey- oh my god.”
“What is it?” Tony asks off-camera, and he suddenly appears on the other end as Natasha tilts the phone to show him. “Oh my god.” His tone is eerily identical to hers, the expression on his face can only be described as gobsmacked, eyes wide with his mouth hanging open.
Brock can feel the headache coming on. He tries to leave the frame only to get get smacked upside the head.
“What the hell is going on over there?” Tony asks. Brock continues trying his best to stay out of the shot, but Bucky manages to keep at least half of his face in at all times. “Since when did Rumlow care for his skin?” Bucky throws a pointed look at Brock who pretends like he didn’t hear it.
“I think it’s cute.” Natasha says, turning the camera back on herself. “The boys never do stuff like this with me.” Shuffling and mild commotion could be heard in the background, he could only assume it was protestations.
“Not even you Tony? Tsk,” Bucky asks adding fuel the inevitable bickering that’s likely to start soon between Natasha and anyone in the vicinity who has ever turned her down for the activity.
“Yeah, Tony.” Natasha turns to her the genius. “What the hell?”
“Oh, now you’ve done it.” The other man groaned, grabbing the phone from Natasha. “Thanks a lot, Brock.”
“Me?” Mirroring Tony, Brock takes the phone from his girlfriend’s hand to address him directly. “How’s this my fault?” Tony rolls his eyes.
“Oh, please.” He says. “You’ve now placed unreasonable expectations for the rest of us to suffer through.” Bucky muffled a giggle at his words, but Natasha doesn’t seem so amused from the part of her face they can see on the side.
Bucky talked with the duo for a while as Brock sat fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt, wondering if she’d let him fuck her in his clothes sometime. “And, with that, I think it’s time we washed these off,” she announced wrinkling her nose a little as her phone vibrated at the same time that the timer notification popped up. She offers Tony a smile when he glares at her. “Good luck,” then hangs up.
The smugness that painted her face shone through the mask.
“Be honest with me.” Brock starts as Bucky moved to plug her phone into the wall. “Did you do that just to make life difficult for the boys?”
“What?” She asks, looking up at him. The innocence in her eyes is fake, no doubt about it. “No. Of course not.”
“Bucky.”
“I didn’t!”
Silence, paired with a cocked brow does the trick.
“Okay, maybe a little.” She admits with a small smirk. He’s still giving her the same expression when she looks back. “What? The girls have been complaining about this for ages. They’re all grown ups, they can deal with it like grown ups. If they decide to do just to not be one upped by you, that’s on them.”
Brock shakes his head a little, his lips still quirked up at the ends. He forgets sometimes why he stopped trying to figure out how women’s minds work. Besides she isn’t all that wrong about how things will likely pan out.
“I don’t agree with Tony, by the way.” He looks up from where their fingers are now laced together, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think you’re setting any unreasonable exceptions.” Now both of his eyebrows are sailing into his hairline as best they can under the face mask.
“And why that?” He asks.
“Because this was an exception, this was for fun and if was fun is an exception and then it’s no longer fun.” Her face falls a little as she reasoned, and he reaches out with his free hand to tilt her chin up.
“Snowflake, look at me. I love you. Expectation or not, anything I do with you is going to make happy. Hell, you could force us into spring cleaning and I’d still have fun.” He explains, pausing for a second before adding, “Please don’t make us scrub down the motel room.” Her smile returns, big and bright and oh-so-beautiful, making his breath catch just a little.
“Love you too.” Bucky pulls back her hand from his so she can carefully work his shirt over her head without getting either of their masks on it. “I’m going to go hop in the shower so I can wash this off without making a mess of the counter.”
“Alright.” Brock reluctantly releases her thighs so she can get off of him. She begins to slip out of her undergarments while Brock watches with blatant hunger.
There’s a beat of silence once she’s done and reaches the door to the bathroom.
She turns at the entrance, “You going to join me or what?” His face breaks into a grin as his eyes rove over her form leaning against the door jamb expectantly. He stalks over, picking her up bridal style.
“Absolutely.”
“50 bucks, they’re gonna fuck in the shower,” Tony says swivelling around in his chair as the call cuts out to face the quarrelling group.
“No deal. That’s a losing bet.” Steve pales at Natasha’s words.