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“Everything okay in there, sweetheart? Our Thai food is getting cold!”
“Just a minute, Bucky!” You yell through the door, teary eyes glued to the mirror in front of you.
The two of you had just returned from a perfect day together, filled with your favorite fall activities. You went apple picking, did a cider tasting, and had a super hot makeout session in the middle of a corn maze (you were pretty sure Bucky got the two of you lost on purpose for this to happen). When the feeling of Bucky’s delicious apple-cinnamon lips on yours was interrupted by a sudden wetness on your cheek, followed by an onslaught of raindrops drenching the two of you, you both fumbled your way out of the maze to your car to head back to Bucky’s place for dinner, hand in hand, laughing in childlike bliss.
You were shivering, covered in wet clothes from head to toe and Bucky offered to let you shower and change into some of his clothes while he ordered the food and set up a cozy oasis for you to binge watch Midnight Mass. A smile stayed plastered on your face until Bucky closed the door to his room behind you, and only then did you let the panic you felt on the inside show itself in your features.
Wearing other people’s clothes was never a fun experience for you.
Mainly because you hardly ever fit in them.
It was always a difficult trigger for you, especially when reading books or watching movies where the tiny woman would put on a man’s shirt and it would fall to her knees, enveloping her in fabric. That was never the case for you. Sometimes you could barely get your arms through the sleeves, or some of your midriff would be exposed because the top couldn’t fit over your stomach.
You would always wish that your body was smaller, so experience the feeling of clothes falling loosely on you.
Bucky loved you and your body, though. You knew this. It was just that sometimes the demons in your brain overpowered his loving voice when he wasn’t around.
So here you were, standing in Bucky’s room wearing the red henley you love so much. Thank God you were able to get it on and it did fit you. It just wasn’t, well, loose.
Your hand grazed against a roll over your ribcage, grimacing.
“Doll, what on earth are you doing in there?” Bucky opens the door and you jump back, trying to wipe away a stray tear before turning back to him. His eyes shoot up in concern and he walks over to you. “What’s wrong?”
You shake your head, a weak smile on your face and you let out a bitter laugh. “It’s nothing, Buck. Just having a bad brain moment.”
He gently cages your face between his hands and he kisses your forehead. “Anything I can do to help?” He pulls back to meet your eyes.
You shrug, looking down in embarrassment. “I just…” you sigh, hands gesturing to your body, “I wish I could look the way other girls do when they wear their partner’s clothes. All cute and dainty and...small.” Your lips quiver.
Bucky lifts your chin to look back up at him, and his eyes are filled with nothing but admiration. Without saying anything, he slowly turns you around so that you’re both facing the mirror.
The tears return with a force and you blink them back. But Bucky? Bucky smiles, rests his chin on your shoulder and wraps his arms around your stomach. His thumb caresses the roll you were just grimacing over moments ago.
“Love,” he says softly, “I don’t want you to look like anyone else. You’re my girl and I love and cherish every part of you.” He kisses your shoulder. “I promise you that this henley has never looked better. The way it fits to your body, shows me everything I love to see?” He squeezes you closer to him and you giggle. “God, and the fact that it’s going to smell like you now? I feel like the luckiest guy in the world.”
The tears of self-loathing quickly shift into those of love. Love for the man holding you in his arms. His kindness, his support, his adoration for you is something you don’t know if you’ll ever be used to.
But as you turn around to wrap your arms around his neck, whispering I love you before pulling him in to get another taste of those soft, perfect, apple-cinnamon lips, you know that you’ll happily spend the rest of your life trying.