Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Bucky couldn’t help but stare.

Couldn’t help but become spellbound by the sight of a barefoot and soft-smiled Ava Starr stepping forward to him. Back in the day, he’d been a heartthrob without even trying—girls trailing after him in twos and threes, all bright eyes and eager smiles—but none of it had ever so much as stirred him the way this ex-SHIELD did. She had unknowingly slipped past every defense he’d ever had and settled somewhere deep, quiet, and impossible to shake.

And right now, she closed her fleshed fingers lightly around his wrist to tug them to her soft lips. 

Then, she parted them, just enough for her pink tongue to dart out and brush along his finger before drawing it into the warm, careful press of her mouth, a slow, testing suckle that sent a quiet jolt straight through him.

All the blood practically drained south, but could anyone blame him?

There had been many instances he’d wake up with his cock throbbing, still chasing the ghost of her touch, hips shifting against empty sheets as if his body hadn’t quite caught up to the fact she wasn’t there, wasn’t his—wasn’t something he could ever hope to deserve, let alone keep.

If only his body had gotten the message after three years of trying to pursue her. Trying and failing to drop hints that he was very much interested in her and actively trying to seduce him every step of the way, which somehow failed miserably.

“Mm, I think it needs more vanilla extract,” Ava finally remarked after a few seconds.

She let go of his hand and turned her back to him. He tried now to think of how empty he suddenly felt, his shoulder sagging as she watched her body flicker for a moment, and then she was on top of the kitchen counter. “Okay, where was it? I saw it last time here in the back...somewhere...”

What did he expect, really?

He had to look away then—had to, if only to keep whatever fragile composure he had left from snapping clean in half—because she was standing there in nothing but his black t-shirt and a pair of indecently short shorts, all bare legs and soft skin, like she had no idea what that sight did to him.

There, perched on top of his feet where his heart had somehow dropped lower than where his blood had done, was Alpine. All fat and fluffy, a soft white loaf of a cat blinking up at him like his cat wasn’t watching him pine over someone he’d already decided belonged in his space but not in his arms.

“What do you want me to do?” he muttered, going back to his task of whipping the cream.

If only his degenerate teammates could see him now.

The co-leader of the New Avengers was baking cookies on a Sunday.

“Found the bloody thing,” Ava finally chirped, holding the small bottle of vanilla extract up like it was a prize, a pleased little smile tugging at her lips as she slid back down from the counter. “Really, Buck. We should talk about getting you a lazy Susan. Should I put that down as a possible gift for you? Your birthday’s around the corner.”

The tiny feline immediately darted to headbutt Ava’s ankle, and she chuckled, reaching down to scratch the top of her head. Bucky wondered what it’d be like to finally give in to his instincts like Alpine was doing.

To close the distance, to let his hand find her waist instead of the mixing bowl, to see if she’d melt into him the way Alpine did under her touch. If she’d moan when he finally kissed her while he picked her up and settled her onto the counter, while he wrapped her legs around his waist.

Would she wrap her arms around him and haul him closer as his tongue explored her mouth?

When both of his girls looked at him, he realized he’d been staring too long.

“Uh, sure.”

“Really?” she echoed, brows lifting just slightly even though there was a glint in her eyes. “You’ll finally let me reorganize your kitchen without hovering over my shoulder like I’m about to commit a crime?”

Truthfully, Bucky would let her do just about anything she wanted if it meant she’d stay and linger in his space a little longer, fill the quiet with her voice, look at him like that again in the way that made his heart pound faster and faster.

Though he couldn’t say that, could he?

“I don’t hover,” he muttered.

“You do, and the reason why Yelena threatens to kick your arse every other day,” she chuckled, poking him in the ribs before slipping around him to grab the bowl of whipped cream from his hands. She then added a small dash, whipped a few more times, and stuck her own finger into it, lifting it up and sucking lightly. “Mm…much better. Do you want a taste?”

Instead of answering, Bucky reached for her, fingers closing gently but firmly around her wrist before she could pull away. He didn’t break eye contact as he guided her hand back down, dipping that same finger into the cream before bringing it to his mouth.

Slow, deliberate.

And then he sucked it clean.

His gaze never wavered, blue eyes darkening just a fraction as his tongue traced over the pad of her finger, like he was testing more than just the taste. And he held her gaze, hoping to see something—anything—that matched the heat coiling low in his gut; a flicker of want, a hitch in her breath, some sign that he wasn’t the only one standing on the edge of something dangerous and long overdue.

Exactly three years, twenty-two days, and four hours, but who's counting?

Oh, right, him.

Yet she only laughed before pulling away with a snort and a lopsided grin.

“What are you doing? Are you trying to seduce me, James Buchanan Barnes?” she mused.

And maybe it was because he was lacking sleep from the last few days after being sent on an assignment that tested his endurance, but something in him finally snapped loose, worn thin his patience, and gave way to something far more reckless.

“If I said I was, Doll?” he tested.

Ava only laughed again, like he hadn’t just tipped something precarious between them.

“You?” she teased, tilting her head, eyes glinting. “Yes, and I’m the Queen of bloody England. You’re getting pretty good with the theatrics, though—I’ll give you that, Buck. Now come on, we need to get this batch in the oven, or we’d have no desserts after dinner.”

“Mm.”

 Except there was one right in front of him.

One that tempted him far more than anything they could pull out of an oven, all soft edges and sharp wit, standing just within reach and somehow still entirely out of his grasp. But he doesn’t say any of it.

He just swallowed.

She turned away from him once more to start scraping the sides of the bowl with a practiced flick of her wrist, wholly unbothered as she folded the cream into whatever overly indulgent concoction she’d decided to bake tonight.

Once she placed them in the oven, she grabbed her wine glass and hopped onto the counter to sit. Alpine doesn’t hesitate in following, springing up beside her like it’s the most natural place in the world, immediately curling into her thigh as Ava absently scratches behind her ears.

“Right. Now, where were we?” she hummed, and then her expression brightened further as she swirled her wine lightly. “Little Woman. We were arguing about whether Jo was right to turn Laurie down, or if she just… ran from something that might’ve been too much, too real. I reckon she knew what she was doing and still chose to walk away. Which, if you ask me, is worse than not knowing at all.”

Actually, it’s not.

Bucky knew firsthand.

He stared at her for a moment, and just like every time she walked into the room, he practically drank her in. She was a picture he’d memorized without meaning to as she drowned in his black t-shirt that hung just a little too loose on her frame, the fabric soft from too many washes and chosen with a kind of quiet care he’d never admit to, not when Yelena would have a field day knowing exactly why he’d spent the extra money for it.

It brushed mid-thigh when she sat, her legs bare as they swung idly off the counter, heel knocking lightly against the cabinet in an absent rhythm while Alpine purred loud enough to fill the room.

Her hair was twisted up into a messy bun, careless and comfortable, but two stubborn curls had slipped free to frame her face, soft against her cheeks, and he found himself staring at those, too, like they were just as much of a problem as everything else about her.

From the moment he pulled her out of Alexei’s pile of rubble—which he called proudly his daughter even to this day, much to the displeasure of Yelena—he hasn’t stood a damn chance against her.

For a second, he had even forgotten all the horrors he had witnessed in his miserable, terrible life. He didn’t think it’d be possible. He thought his damaged brain would always cling to them and replay them in endless loops.

But there was something about her eyes that calmed him.

Made him forget everything and anchor him in the present.

It was why he knew this couldn’t keep going.

A better man would have been happy to leave it at this. To take the quiet moments for what they were, keep his hands to himself, and never risk ruining the one good thing he’d been allowed to keep.

Yet he knew the dangers of being an Avenger.

He could die the very next day, or the world might end before he got the chance to tell her.

So, he stared at her a bit longer.

Memorized this very moment before he decided to finally do something selfish and destructive.

“Do…do you want to keep doing this, Ava?”

Fuck.

He hated how terrified he sounded.

How his voice sounded so rough and uncertain, like the question had been dragged out of him.

Ava stopped kicking her feet, the easy rhythm cutting off as she went still, her fingers pausing mid-stroke in Alpine’s fur while she slowly lifted her gaze to meet his. Her brows bumped together, a frown settling in as confusion flickered across her face.

“Doing what?”

“This.”

She batted her eyes a few times and tilted her head, making the shirt slide down further.

“I beg your pardon?”

Bucky guessed he had no choice but to say it plainly, even if it was killing him.

“This thing between us,” he said, his metal finger flicking between the two of them.

“The…book club?” she questioned. “Or the dinner thing?”

Bucky stared at her, something incredulous flashing across his face.

He thought Bob had been dense when Yelena decided to actively pursue him in a romantic capacity, but it seemed Ava took the cake here. He only made him more frustrated at himself, because this entire time, he’d been dancing around it instead of saying it.

“All of it,” he bit out, quieter than he meant to, but no less strained. “The cooking. The reading. The—” his hand gestured vaguely between them again and then to his little apartment with his jaw tightening, “—this. Us.”

“Us?”

“You’re clearly not interested, so is there a reason we’re still doing this after three years?”

She just stared at him, eyes completely wide and baffled.

Her usual playfulness was gone in an instant, replaced by something raw and unguarded.

It took everything in Bucky not to try to comfort her to some extent.

“You…you want to stop this?” she asked, seeming genuinely bewildered and hurt. “I don’t understand why, Bucky?” she pushed, and then she crossed her arms, more defensive now. “Because from where I’m standing, I’ve been keeping up to date with every chapter, no matter how sodden tired I am. How could you say I’m not interested? Wait, it is because I sometimes crash at your place? Or because I’m always hounding you to help me bake? It wasn’t my intention, but if it bothered you so much, then—”

She continued on, but truthfully, Bucky stopped listening to the ringing in his ears now.

All he could focus on was how they weren’t in separate chapters of the same books.

They were in different books and genres altogether.

“Oh my god,” he muttered, suddenly feeling like he needed to down the entire bottle of wine that was a few feet away. Yet he didn’t want to scare her, so he could only duck his head down, pinching the bridge of his nose. When he finally composed himself, he looked up to see that Ava seemed ready to phase out of the room.

“Right. Well, I got my answer—”

She didn’t get to take another step before he gently held onto her wrist.

“Wait. I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered.

“Well, it certainly sounded like you meant exactly that.”

Shit.

This wasn’t how he wanted this to go.

“Ava,” he began, making sure he had her full intentions before working through the lump that was suddenly in his throat. “Has…has it never crossed to you once that we’re the only two people in our book club?”

Her brows knitted back together in confusion.

“Well, yes? Alexei and Walker would have fallen asleep halfway through or started arguing about something completely unrelated,” she said flatly. “Yelena wouldn’t have come even if we begged her.” A weak attempt at a smile tugged at his mouth. “And Bob…well, he’d say yes, and then spend the whole time apologizing for not reading fast enough. What’s your point?”

“My point is,” he pushed, voice softer now, “we never asked them explicitly.”

They knew about their little weekly meetup, and Yelena certainly liked to tease him over his “very apparent” feelings for the woman every time he stepped out of the Watchtower and headed back to his Brooklyn apartment when they could have very well done it there.

“Do you want me to invite them?” she asked, tilting her head.

Damn it, this wasn’t working.

He quickly worked out how to come up with another point.

“I drive you here, and we have dinner together here every Friday night,” he quipped.

“Well…yes? It makes the most sense, doesn’t it?” she countered slowly. “I’ve suggested staying in the Watchtower, but you stated it would be quieter than trying to practice civility in the same space as Yelena and the others.”

“Right,” he mumbled, finally letting go of her wrist when it looked like she wouldn’t try running. “I did say that in the beginning, didn’t I?”

 “That’s correct,” she curtly nodded, narrowing her eyes.

“We also drink wine in the matching wine glasses,” he drawled out, his eyes darting to the ones that say in white cursive ‘Mr.’ and ‘Mrs.’ He thought it would have been obvious when he suggested it a year ago, when they went shopping for home goods, because his place—as she liked to say—was too empty.

“Right, because it’s cheaper. Something you said as well. Where is this going, Bucky?”

“I’m getting there. We discuss books, sometimes we would even watch a movie until it’s late, and you would stay in the guest room,” he continued, his mechanical arm twitching. “If there’s nothing going on at the Watchtower, we’d stay here on the weekend, and we’d explore the city.”

When he finally heard that she had grown up all her life in a lab prison cell, and then only traveled around different countries because of her job as a hired mercenary, he knew he needed to show her more than that.

And what better city than New York?

He thought she might have gotten it by now, but somehow, her expression changed from confusion to disappointment and irritation. “What, would you rather have your weekends back? Did you want others over? Again, I’m not difficult to work around, Barnes. If something wasn’t to your liking, I would’ve adjusted. Assuming that’s even what you want now.”

“Doll—”

“Honestly, this is a bit rubbish, isn’t it?”

He couldn’t help but tip his head back and rub his temples in complete dismay. Out of everyone on their ragtag team, he always thought the cleverest of them was the woman standing in front of him.

She still is, of course.

Except when it comes to his feelings, it seemed.

“Ava,” he began once more, not even caring how drained and desperate he sounded while he looked back at her. “Just, don’t take this the wrong way, alright? I’m not great at… spelling things out like this. But I think if I don’t say it straight, you’re gonna miss what I’m trying to tell you.”

She somehow looked more offended, but Bucky had no choice but to ignore it.

“I’ve been trying to seduce you.”

The former Winter Soldier didn’t think it was possible for silence to be this loud.

The only thing breaking it was the honking car outside and Alpine’s very loud purring as she laid on the counter, content on watching both of them as if she very well understood what was happening.

“I beg your bloody pardon?” she squeaked, her mouth finally dropping to the floor.

“I’ve been trying to seduce you for over three years now, since I brought up the idea of having a book club together here,” he said, the words coming out steadier than he felt, even as his ears burned. He shifted his weight, jaw ticking. “The dinners. The wine. The—” he gestured vaguely toward the apartment, toward all of it, “—weekends.”

Alpine let out another loud, satisfied purr, completely unbothered.

“That wasn’t just you being friendly?” she asked after a brief pause.

Bucky huffed a quiet breath through his nose.

Friendly?

“Have I ever been friendly? Much less to the others?” he chuckled dryly, running his fleshed hand through his hair and then tugging on it. With each passing second, the thought of chugging the wine became more and more appealing. “I’m trying to woo you. That’s why I always ask you to stay over, take you around the city, and wherever else you seem even remotely curious about.

“I thought you’d need more time to figure out who you are as an Avengers. So I didn’t push,” he went on, quieter now, hand dropping back to his side. “Figured you had enough on your plate without me… complicating it. You’d spent your whole life being told what you were, where to be, what to do.

“The last thing I wanted was to be another person putting something on you, so I took my time, and it’s fine. It still is, if I have to wait a decade or even a century, if that’s what it takes. I mean, I waited long enough for someone like you, haven’t I? But…it never occurred to me that you hadn’t realized I’ve been trying to seduce you this entire time.”

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken this much, so he almost felt himself reeling. Before he fell somewhere in the Eastern Alps and was captured, he didn’t even think he had spoken that much.

“You…you’ve been trying to seduce me…as in, you…what? Want to get into bed with me?” she practically squeaks, her eyes turning rounder. It was the first time he had ever seen a reaction like that from her.

Somehow, it made things much worse.

His mouth pressed into a thin line, like he half-regretted saying any of it out loud now that it was out there, impossible to take back. He rubbed the back of his neck, working on the knot that had been bothering him for days now.

“Not just to bed you, though if we’re laying down our cards, yeah, I’ve thought about that too,” he admitted, blunt as ever, though his voice dipped lower. “I’m not gonna pretend I haven’t. But that’s not the point. I’m not just trying to get you into bed, Ava. I want you. All of it. The quiet nights, the arguing over books, you stealing half my kitchen and pretending it’s yours—” his mouth twitched faintly despite himself, “—all of it. For three years now.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” she asked in a high-pitched tone.

He wondered if he could bash his head against the wall at the moment.

“Ava, what do you think was going on?” he questioned, feeling so terribly lost.

“Well, forgive me for not jumping to that conclusion,” she shot back, her voice tight, edged with something sharper than before. “Most people don’t—what—build routines like this and call it flirting. They say what they mean, Barnes. Or at least make it obvious.” She let out a short, disbelieving breath, one hand dragging through her hair before dropping again. “You asked me to read with you. To cook. To stay over because it was ‘late.’ You never—” she gestured vaguely between them, frustration mounting, “—you never said anything. Not once. And I’m supposed to just assume that means I’m… what, special?” Her grip tightened against the counter, knuckles paling. “For all I know, this is how you usually are, even when I’m not around.”

“Yes, Ava. How did you know that I read and cook with you on Fridays and every other day of the week? I sneak off when you’re not looking to do the same with the others,” he asked, his voice deadpan. “Oh, and when I’m not spending every weekend with you? I also take Yelena to visit Coney Island and wherever else she wants to go. Did I also mention I have a special nickname I reserve for them privately, too?”

She glared at him, but even then, he didn’t miss the way the tip of her ears reddened.

“Okay, you made your point, Buck. But you should know I’m not good with picking up things like this,” she huffed, her hand going to pet Alpine, who instantly rolled onto her back and exposed her round, white belly. “I didn’t know you’d be interested, much less that you were actively flirting with me.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face before settling it on his hip. His other hand came up to his temple, pressing like it might stop the pounding there. “Got it. I see that now. “So, just so I’m not getting this wrong, if it never even crossed your mind… then I’m guessing you’re not interested. In me.”

Great.

Spectacular, really.

The only woman he was interested in, and she never once saw him in that light.

Already, he was thinking of possibly contacting the Wakandans and asking Shuri if there’s a way to make a complete AI variant of him to help the New Avengers while he secluded himself somewhere deep in the woods.

He’s about to excuse himself from his own apartment, go to a bar where he’d get so drunk that even the super serum would struggle to keep up when the woman of his dreams decides to put this entire thing on its head with her next declaration.

“I’m interested.”

His brain stalled completely.

For a second, Bucky just stared at her, like the words hadn’t quite translated, like maybe he’d misheard her over the rush of his own thoughts already halfway out the door. He blinked a few times, and then his mouth finally made out one word.

“What?”

“I’m interested,” she repeated, slower this time.

Bucky blinked again, his grip on his own thoughts slipping. “You just said—”

“I said I didn’t realize what you were doing,” she cut in, jaw setting. “That’s not the same thing.”

Silence stretched between them again, but it felt different now.

Charged and unsteady.

“You are…” he let out a quiet, disbelieving huff, dragging a hand through his hair again. His legs almost gave out with how hard he was pounding when he saw the light flush on her face. “You’re serious.”

“I don’t joke about things like this,” she said flatly, and that he believed. “I still have a hard time wrapping my head around this after how sudden this all is, but I’m still interested. I mean, if you are interested and—”

“I am,” he interjected.

He’s still running on autopilot when she chuckled.

“Okay. Great. Shall we try this next week then? We could…I don’t know, see and try.”

“Next week?” he parroted.

“Yes. Does that work? In you trying to—” she waved a hand up in the air. “Seduce me? Val is sending me out tomorrow to infiltrate some arms deal upstate. I’m sure you already knew that. I’ll be gone for a few days, but when I’m back and done processing…we can try next Saturday? Does Saturday work as I’ll be back late Friday night?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. I can also make Cacio E Pepe with bacon.”

“Okay. Great. I’ll…I guess I should…um…get change and head off first.”

Before he could reply, she phased out of the room.

He stood in the kitchen, staring at the spot where she had just been a few moments ago. He didn’t realize how long he had been dazingly lost in his thoughts until Alpine hopped down and let out a soft chirp, nuzzling against his ankle.

Bucky blinked as the sound pulled him back into his own body.

To think he spent the last three years trying to seduce Ava Starr, only for her to not even notice any of his advances.

Jesus.

And here he once thought Steve had it bad when it came to wooing Peggy.

It was Wednesday night when Ava finally stepped off the Quinjet, stumbling tirelessly into the Watchtower. To think she’d spent almost three days camped out in a damp, half-collapsed warehouse watching a deal that should’ve taken two hours stretch into something far messier.

Her shoulders ached.

Everything ached, really.

Yet she wasn’t injured, so that was a plus, she supposed.

Ava dragged a hand down her face as she walked, boots heavy against the floor, the familiar hum of the Watchtower settling around her like background noise she didn’t have the energy to register.

It appeared everyone was already asleep, but that was to be expected when she came back close to three in the morning. Her stomach growled loud enough that she actually paused mid-step, eyes narrowing slightly like it had personally offended her.

“Right,” she muttered under her breath.

Three days of takeout and protein bars apparently hadn’t been enough.

With a quiet exhale, Ava steered her body towards the kitchen. At this hour, she wasn’t expecting much, maybe leftovers if she was lucky. Something edible. Something quick. Something she could scavenge without thinking too hard about it.

She moved straight for the fridge, pulling it open without much expectation and stilled.

Actually, her breath caught.

Sitting neatly on the middle shelf was a glass container, carefully wrapped in cling film. Inside, still perfectly arranged, was a portion of chicken parmesan with pasta tucked beneath it, the sauce set just right, as if it hadn’t been hastily thrown together but plated with intention.

Like it had been meant for someone.

For her.

A small note was taped to the top.

Ava hesitated for half a second before peeling it back, eyes scanning the familiar, slightly slanted handwriting.

Figured you’d be back late. Heat it for 2 minutes. —B

She stared at it and then back at the container.

Something in her chest shifted ever so quietly, but unmistakably.

Before she could stop herself, the corner of her lips tugged upwards as she took the tub out—

And promptly almost dropped it when she closed the fridge and saw Yelena leaning against the counter in her pajamas like she’d been there the entire time, arms crossed, watching her with far too much interest for this hour.

“I knew it. I knew it,” she whispered, far too pleased for someone who should have been asleep, pushing herself off the counter as if she had just won something with that shit-eating grin. “I freaking knew it!”

“You should really stop sneaking up on people like this; it’s going to get you stabbed one day,” she said flatly, steadying the container in her hands before moving past her and towards the microwave.

“It had several times, actually, so nothing new. Not to mention, I would die knowing I was right,” she replied, entirely unbothered, practically vibrating with smug satisfaction. “So very much worth it.”

Ava ignored her, opening the microwave and placing the container inside with precise, controlled movements. Just when she thought she’d have dinner to herself to recover in peace before sleeping in until noon to meet with Bucky, Yelena just had to ruin it.

“Right about what?”

“Really, сука?” she snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Why are you even up in this ungodly hour?” Ava asked, pressing the buttons with more force than necessary. “Shouldn’t you be occupied elsewhere? With Bob, if you want me to be specific.”

“You’re deflecting,” she said, pleased. “Did something finally happen last weekend? Bucky has been more hassle-free than usual in letting us get away with something he’d usually give us hell for.”

“Is that right?” she asked, reaching for a bag of chamomile and her mug as she waited.

“Boo, you’re no fun,” Yelena sighed dramatically, dragging the words out as she got herself a bottle of water from the fridge. “You come back after three days and give me nothing. Not even a small detail.”

Ava didn’t look at her, calmly pouring hot water into the mug once the kettle clicked off.

“There’s nothing to give.”

“Lies,” Yelena said immediately. “Your face alone is telling an entire story.”

“My face is neutral.”

“Your face was smiling five minutes ago.”

“It was not.”

Yelena grinned.

“It was. Over chicken parmesan. Did you know Bucky made it with you in mind?”

“Did he now?” she simply threw back.

“He did. He even threatened Alexei and Walker that if they so much as looked at it, he’d break their hands,” Yelena said, far too pleased with herself. “Very serious. Very territorial. It was impressive.”

“Yes, yes, very impressive. Now, do you mind leaving me alone so I can eat in peace?” she asked once the microwave beeped. “I’ve had three days of terrible protein bars. I’d like to enjoy an actual meal without commentary.”

They stared at one another for a moment before, finally, Ava grabbed the blade tucked against her thigh and flicked it forward in one smooth motion. Yelena didn’t even flinch. Her hand came up just in time to catch it cleanly by the handle, like this was a completely normal part of their routine.

“You really are a bitch,” Yelena clicked her tongue, inspecting the knife briefly before tucking it into the waistband of her pajamas. “Well, that’s mine now as reward for being right and not getting stabbed tonight.”

Ava didn’t even dignify that with a response. She pulled the container out of the microwave, peeled back the cling film, and grabbed a fork, already turning away toward the table. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yes,” Yelena agreed easily. “But I am also correct, which makes it worse for you.”

“You’re not,” Ava countered while sitting, dragging the plate closer as the smell hit her properly now. It’s warm, rich, familiar in a way that settled something low in her stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. Ignoring Yelena’s annoying presence, she took a bite and resisted the urge to moan.

Damn him.

It was good.

Of course, it was good.

“Mm,” Yelena hummed, watching her like a hawk as she leaned against the back of the chair opposite her, arms folding again. “That is the face. That exact face. If I don’t know better, I would think you look like you want to climb him.”

Ava nearly choked. “You’re projecting.”

“I am not projecting,” Yelena shot back and then her entire face morphed into disgust. “Second, that’s disgusting. Third, I have already climbed my person. Successfully. Many, many times if that’s what you want to hear.”

Ava scrunched her nose. “Please stop talking.”

“No,” Yelena said immediately. “Not when I have been waiting three years for this.”

That made Ava’s fork pauses mid-air because it had echoed a little too closely to something else.

“He said that too,” she muttered before she could stop herself. She only knew she was making a mistake when Yelena stilled, and then she practically bounced onto her like a shark who caught blood in the water.

“Aha! So something did happen! I knew it, I knew it!”

Ava exhaled through her nose, yet it seemed that it did absolutely nothing to steady the growing irritation buzzing under her skin. It could be very simple and easy to phase out of this room, but that would only make Yelena more complacent and infuriating.

Though it’s tempting.

Very tempting that—

“Yelena?”

The voice carried down the hall, low and a little groggy, and it cut clean through the moment like a blade. It was almost uncanny the way she saw the former Red Room assassin freeze before perking up instantly; the shift was almost violent.

“Coming!” she called back. “I was just getting some water, Bob!”

Ava stared at her as Yelena hopped off her seat and she practically beelined for Bob.

To think this was the woman who had been moments away from dissecting her life choices was now smoothing down her shirt like she had any business pretending she hadn’t been lurking in the kitchen like a gremlin at three in the morning.

Unbelievable.

Just like a tornado passing by, the peace and quiet returned.

She ate her meal in relative peace after that, though the quiet didn’t settle the way it usually did. It lingered differently, threaded with something faintly restless that she couldn’t quite name and didn’t particularly feel like examining at three in the morning.

The pasta was still warm, still annoyingly good, and she finished every last bite with the same methodical focus she brought to everything else, as if that alone could keep her thoughts from drifting somewhere far less manageable.

Once she was done, Ava stood and moved on autopilot, rinsing the container before placing it neatly into the dishwasher. The routine helped, a small, controlled thing in contrast to the way her mind kept circling back to the same point over and over again.

Three years.

Bucky had been trying to seduce her for three years.

He had been interested in her for one thousand and ninety-five days.

In her, for some reason.

A S.H.I.E.L.D. reject on the run across fifteen nations.

A woman who had spent most of her life being contained, controlled, and discarded the moment she stopped being useful. A ghost that slipped through walls and out of people’s lives just as easily, never lingering long enough to become anything permanent. Not someone you kept. Not someone you built something with.

And for some reason, Bucky had looked at her like she was something worth keeping.

She clicked the dishwasher shut a little more firmly than necessary and exhaled through her nose. Then, without another thought, she phased. The familiar pull slipped over her skin in an instant, her body flickering out of the kitchen and into the quiet of her room just down the hall. It was second nature at this point, effortless, and normally she would have collapsed straight into bed without another thought.

Instead, she stopped.

There, just beneath the door, was a letter.

Ava frowned slightly, her gaze sharpening as she stepped closer. It had been slipped under at some point while she’d been gone, resting neatly against the floor like it had been placed with intention rather than carelessness. For a moment, she simply stared at it, something quiet and curious settling in her chest.

Then she crouched and picked it up.

Her name was written across the front in cursive.

Her breath hitched almost imperceptibly because she knew that handwriting better than she sometimes cared to admit. It was in the margins of the books they passed back and forth, tucked between observations and quiet disagreements, pressed into grocery lists she never remembered writing herself, scrawled on the occasional note he left behind when he stepped out before she woke.

Bucky’s.

Her thumb traced over the ink once, absently, before she straightened and turned the envelope over in her hands. Whatever mild curiosity she had a second ago shifted into something else entirely now, something warmer and just enough to make her pulse skip in a way she found deeply inconvenient.

Nibbling her lips, she carefully opened them.

Her eyes scanned the first line, then the next, and before she could stop herself, something in her expression softened. Then it happened as a small, barely visible smile appeared before it grew wider.

Ava huffed quietly under her breath, as if mildly annoyed by her own reaction, even as she stared down at the page, the grin settling in fully now, despite herself, as she brought it closer to her face.

He really knew how to make an effort, huh?