Work Text:
As you opened your eyes this morning, you felt a bit groggy and sore from sleep. As you slowly woke up, you gradually realized every little part of your body. Your head, your neck, your shoulders, your hands, your torso, and your legs. You slowly rotated your head to crack your joints, then rolled your shoulders, slowly making the soreness of sleep fade. You rubbed your eyes before feeling a slight pain in your chin. You winced and got up from bed, making sure to stay silent enough not to wake up anyone in the apartment. As you entered the bathroom, you turned up the lights, and looked at yourself in the mirror. A grimace painted your face, as you say it, the reason for your ache: a small – but already annoying – button. You were having an acne breakout. That wasn’t much surprising, given how stressed you’ve been lately, how polluted the air was, and how you forgot to put on sunscreen for the past month. The heat waves of June weren't helping as well, so you didn’t mind much and searched for pimple patches in your toiletry bag.
« Shit. »
The curse left your mouth a little too easily, as you went through your bag, seeing that you didn’t buy new patches like you thought you did a few weeks ago when you ran out of it. You then remembered why: that day, after a stressful event at work, your sweet and caring boyfriend had taken you on a surprise date, and you had forgotten about your need for pimple patches. And of course, today was a Sunday. Just your luck. You sighed, and went to the living room, taking your phone and starting to search for a shop that would be opened and would potentially have what you were searching for. You felt a nuzzling against your side, and softened a bit when you saw Alpine, your boyfriend’s cat, asking for scratching. You leaned back, allowing the white cat to get on your lap as you scratched her behind her ears.
« You’re lucky, Alpine, you don’t have to worry about acne. » you mumbled, complaining to the animal, who looked intently, as if she was understanding what you were saying.
Maybe she was, after all. She was Bucky’s cat, after all. But you broke out of your delusions when she bumped her head softly against your hand to ask for more caresses. You were getting as gaga as your boyfriend about that cat. "Isn't she the most beautiful thing this world has ever created, after you, obviously?” you could almost hear him saying something as cheesy as that. A soft smile painted your lips as you were still petting Alpine. She was purring contently now, curled up in a ball on your lap. Your gaze was fixed on the brick wall in front of you, where a painting you had painted for Bucky stood. It was an oil painting, done with a painting knife, of a bowl of plums and peaches. Bucky’s and your favorite fruits. In a bowl that your mother had offered to Brooklyn’s favourite bachelor. A symbol of your relationship, of your individual and joint struggle against adversity, trauma and the many scars that life has left you.
Your five years at art school had paid off, just to see the centenarian's eyes shine and a surprised, moved, and pleased smile form on his face when you gave him this painting for his one hundred and eighth birthday. “I love it, doll.” he had managed to articulate, his throat tight with emotion. The fluttering you felt in your chest at that moment made you realize how much you were in love with this man, and that for better or worse you would stay by his side. The ache on your chin flared up, reminding you the actual reason why you had gotten up from the warmth of the bed. Damned acne. You opened again the searching page for a shop that would miraculously have pimple patches on a random Sunday.
« Hey, doll. Everything’s alright? »
The soft, and still rough from sleep – how sexy was that ? – voice of Bucky came from behind you. You tilted your head back, to see him reach the couch where you were sitting, being upside down compared to you. His hair was a mess, his eyes still squinted, and you couldn’t help but wish you were in bed with him, having a lazy sex morning session. But the ache on your chin, damnit .
« Yeah, I’m fine, you sighed. Just having an acne breakout. »
Bucky frowned, taking a closer of your, and noticing the red pimple on your chin. Reflexively, he touched his own chin, rubbing his softly stubbled jaw.
« Adults still can get those? »
His innocent question made your heart do a flip. For a centenarian, Bucky wasn't necessarily aware of this sort of thing, the super serum running through his veins preventing him from any imperfections. After all, it had taken a few months of neglect in Bulgaria before he grew a beard and body hair again. Hydra had certainly a very patriarchal view of hair, and the serum was making sure Bucky’s body hair wasn’t growing too fast, to your great displeasure. You smiled softly.
« Yeah, sadly. With pollution, stress, not putting on sunscreen, usually, you explained. But I think the ones to blame currently are the heat waves. »
The older man groaned in agreement and gently pushed away a lock of your hair from your eyes.
« Is there anything you can do to fix this? »
His voice wasn’t bothered, but worried. He still remembered how painful acne could be, even though he hadn't had a breakout since he was seventeen. Which was… too long ago for his mental health to care about. You chuckled, seeing the gears in his brain running. He hated seeing you in pain, even if it was as small as a pimple.
« Usually, I have pimple patches, but I ran out of these. »
He made a pouty expression, which was even more endearing. How could a man this old could still be this cute, that was a question you would never have an answer to. He ran a hand in his messy hair, his brain running fast as he was searching for a solution to your issue.
« Can’t we buy those ? he asked softly. »
« On a Sunday ? you chuckled. »
« Damnit. »
You laughed softly at his curse, which formed a hint of a smile on Bucky’s lips. He loved your laugh. But a frown quickly came back on his face.
« I could try to go to a shop, and find you those pimple patches. »
His proposal wasn't just sweet, it was genuine, and he already seemed ready to go dress up and take his motorcycle to all the open shops around. You smiled softly, moved by the thought, but you shook your head negatively.
« It'll be okay, I'll survive. »
« But- »
« I prefer spending time with you, Bucky. »
He pouted, not pleased to see you not accepting his help. You chuckled again, finding him cuter than he was already. He walked around the couch, sitting on the coffee table, in front of you. His gaze quickly darted on Alpine on your lap, smiling softly, before going back to your eyes. His light eyes were piercing through you, and you felt a shiver run on your spine.
« How about we go find pimple patches, together, so that we can spend time together while getting what you need for your acne ? »
You were almost sure that the universe had created him, and since he was perfect, had decided to give him excruciating traumas to undermine his self-confidence and thus keep him humble despite his beauty, kindness and gentleness. Your heart ached at the thought, and you nodded softly. He smiled, and softly petted Alpine on your lap, making the cat meow softly in contentment, before taking her in his arms, and putting her on the ground.
« Let’s get prepared. »
Bucky was cute, stubbornly searching for pimple patches in the store you had just entered. With furrowed eyebrows and a slightly pouted mouth, his clear eyes carefully analyzed the beauty and skincare section. Only the best for his doll. You were clinging to his arm, more focused on his lips than the pimple patches. But the super soldier was persistent, and his expression lightened up when he grabbed a small pack of colourful stars pimple patches. Your attention shifted and you chuckled.
« Those ? Yeah, they’re fine. A little silly, but I don’t mind. »
« I think you’ll look cute with a little red star on your chin. »
Ah.
« Let’s go pay, then. »
Once home, Bucky helped you apply the patch, and smiled when he saw it on your face. He looked so… proud.
« Look at you, you’re so perfect, doll. »
His smile was contagious, and you smiled as you looked at yourself in the mirror. He was right, of course. No amount of acne was going to ruin your confidence today. Not when the sweetest man on Earth was holding you from behind, his hands on your hips. Not when he was telling you you were perfect. You leaned into his touch, taking advantage of the silence to sink in the reassuring intimacy of its warmth. His eyes were looking at you through the mirror, and the amount of love in them was overwhelming. His gentleness was both a blessing and a curse, since it made you only crave it more. His grip tightened, and you sighed, at ease, your back against his chest. You shifted a bit, to hug him and hide your face against his chest. He was wearing one of those Henley shirts that smelled so particularly like him. A sweet mix with coffee, some musk and a hint of wood.
« Say, doll, how about we go watch a movie ? »
It didn't take you long to take his hand, his metal hand, and pull him towards the living room. As he turned on the television, you made yourself comfortable, covering your legs with a blanket, while Alpine joined you to settle on your legs. He joined you, taking another blanket for himself, putting his arm around your shoulders before starting a movie. The movie didn't matter to you. What mattered in that moment was him. His warmth, his smell, the way his chest was moving up and down as he breathed. You thought how lucky you were to have him in your life, taking care of you. He noticed your lingering gaze, looking at you with a slight questioning look before understanding what you wanted. He let out a soft laugh before kissing you, tenderly, simply.
A small firework exploded in the pit of your stomach, and you melted into the kiss and his embrace. Nothing and no one mattered more than him at that moment. He had taken the sweetness you had missed so much in your life and multiplied it to fill all your gaps. You were happy in life without him, but he was such a great bonus, that was fulfilling all those daydreams about romance you've ever had. He was way above the norm. He had surpassed all your expectations. All those people who used age as an excuse to justify the backward thinking of their loved ones and idols were so stupid. Age had nothing to do with it.
You were kissing a one hundred and eight year old sergeant, and he never dared to be sexist, misogynistic, transphobic or homophobic. He knew better, he’s been through hell. And you were so glad that lonely days were over, with him.
« You have a staring problem, he joked. »
« You’re one to talk ! you huffed, smiling. »
Yes, the lonely days were over.