Work Text:
“James. I’d really appreciate it if you’d keep your eyes on the road.”
Bucky was quick to snap his head forward, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel, heat blooming across his neck and face.
So he hadn’t been as slick as he thought.
Oops.
“Is there something you need to tell me, honey?” You asked, a note of amusement coloring your tone. The sound of crunching paper let him know you were checking the map again, even though his phone had been a steady GPS for the full first leg of this trip.
It’s always good to have a backup. What if something happens to your phone, huh? you had said the night before the two of you left. He had wanted to point out that you had a perfectly good phone as well, but your furrowed brow and staunch determination were too adorable to argue with.
Now, the two of you were...somewhere. Bucky had lost track of the state signs long ago, the wall of trees on either side of the road blending together into a never-ending green mass. It had been your idea to take a road trip out west to meet up with the rest of your family; you weren’t a fan of flying, and while that would have been enough to convince him to take the long drive, your particular methods of persuasion sealed the deal for him.
Just you, me, and the open road. What could be better than that? you had dreamily whispered against his skin, tracing oblong shapes onto his bare chest, your legs tangled with his under the sheets.
And you had been right. There was nothing better than this. It was only the second day of your trip, but Bucky never wanted it to end. It was just you and him against the world; no work, no stress, no distractions. His focus was entirely on you, and only you, and it seemed like he was learning new things about you for every mile that whizzed by, new things that made him fall in love with you again and again.
He fell in love with the way you kept your hands at exactly 10 and 2 while you drove, a small wrinkle of consternation between your brows as you focused on the road ahead. He fell in love with how you insisted on collecting little trinkets at every rest stop the two of you went to, even if it was just one of those free tourist pamphlets they seemed to have at every gas station. He fell in love with the way your face lit up every time you passed a farm, pointing your finger with excitement that radiated through you.
He fell in love over and over, with every little thing about you, and this road trip had given him a front-row seat to all of it, every quirk and idiosyncrasy you had, and he knew he would spend the rest of his life getting to know all of them. At least that was part of the speech he was drafting in his head for when he saw your father. He was pretty sure his Ma’s ring was burning a hole in his sock drawer back at home.
Bucky snuck another peek at you, and though it was quick, he didn’t miss the way the late sun illuminated your skin through the windshield, that sweet frown on your face as you studied the map carefully.
You were fucking stunning.
“Jaaaaames,” you drawled in warning.
Shit. Caught again.
You folded the map back up, twisting a little in your seat to face him, which he could tell from his periphery. “Do you have something to say to me, Buck? Because I’m half convinced you’re gonna crash this car if you keep looking over here.”
He laughed, scratching at the back of his neck briefly before returning his hand to the wheel. He hoped you didn’t notice the pink coloring his face. “No, I’m good. Just like looking at you.”
It was your turn to laugh, the sweet sound filling the car’s cabin and sending delicious shivers down his spine. He’d never get tired of that sound, not for as long as he lived.
“Well,” you said, leaning over the console towards him. “For the next two hours, I’m gonna need you to like looking ahead, big guy.”
And that’s when you made a grave mistake.
A very big one.
That’s when you made the absolute worst choice to reach over and place your hand on his leg, running it smoothly and languidly along his thigh, edging into territory that was just past the line of innocence.
“Bucky, what are you doing?”
But he barely heard your words over the rush of blood going to his brain, among other places, flicking the turn signal on as he maneuvered the car to the far left lane.
“Bucky, this is not our exit!” you exclaimed as he raced onto the off-ramp, following the road to what looked like a truck stop.
Bucky found a modest spot a good distance away from the other vehicles, turning the ignition off, and turning to face you, his gaze draping over you with a heat that left you feeling a bit winded.
“James Buchanan Barnes. Why are we here?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. There was no real conviction behind it though. Not when he was looking at you like that.
He didn’t say anything for a moment, letting those gorgeous, gorgeous eyes roam over you slowly, taking in every inch of you at an aching pace that made you want to roll down a window.
“I love you,” he said simply, his gaze finally meeting yours, his voice low and laden with affection.
You took in a deep breath, trying to grip onto the last tendrils of resolve you had left. “And you pulled us over in the middle of East Jesus Nowhere just to tell me that?”
“No,” he said, his eyes darkening dangerously. “Not just that.”
He reached out to you, cupping your face in his palm before gently hooking it behind your neck, drawing you closer to him. You couldn’t have resisted if you tried, melting under his touch despite your best efforts.
His lips hovered over yours, so close that you could already taste him, but he tilted his head at the last second, his lips burning a trail down your neck and the curve of your shoulder.
You swallowed a gasp, your hands weaving into his hair to gain purchase with something that could keep you grounded on earth. Just as you squeezed your eyes shut, the ding of the GPS sounded out, reminding you that you were off course and giving you back some of your mental faculties. You nudged Bucky away, painfully ignoring the groans of protest he made, even more painfully ignoring the adorable pout on his face.
“Bucky, we have a schedule to stick to,” you tried to say as sternly as you could, but your voice was too breathy and wistful to be taken seriously.
Bucky held your face between both his hands, his thumbs rubbing soft circles along your cheeks and jawline, the blues of his irises ready to take you out to sea.
“Thirty minutes,” he whispered, a wry grin slowly spreading over his face. “Thirty minutes, that’s all I’m asking, baby. And then I’ll follow all the rules, I promise.”
There was a laugh stuck somewhere in your throat, along with some kind of quip about him never being one to follow any rules. But you couldn’t find it in you to say any of it, not when he was looking, and touching, and speaking like that .
“Ten,” you said, looking right at him. “You have ten.”
His smile widened, not wasting another precious second.