Candyman

Chapter 11 - Every Little Thing

"No."

"You need to go with Bucky tomorrow."

"Why? Why do I need to?"

"Let me rephrase that," he started, his voice dangerously close to on edge, "I need you to go with Bucky." Emphasis on I.

"Steve, what's going on? I thought that..." and you couldn't really finish that sentence right now. What you had thought was going to happen once you got back from the party and what was actually happening were worlds apart. Galaxies even.

"Oh, come on," he interrupted the silence, the aggravation evident behind his eyes, although he took a breath to even his temper, "I know you know. I know you know about Tony, about why tonight mattered so fucking much, about how close I am to losing it all."

The more he spoke the more it just felt like an invisible fist was pushing in harder and harder on the middle of your chest. The fist made it hard to breathe, hard to speak, hard to do anything but stay paralyzed in the middle of the room. You wanted to reassure him, to tell him that he wasn't going to lose it all, even if the business dried up you would still be there. As if your opinion really mattered.

"Bucky is the only one making me any money right now. He has the contacts and the reputation and at this point, if he decided to walk away from me, he would walk out with the rest of my clients. He needs to be kept happy," Steve stated plainly.

"But he would never do that to you," you tried, your voice shaking.

"He's tried before, a year ago. I know what the man is capable of."

The silence hung in the air at his confession and you didn't really know what to do with it. What was Steve's loyalty to him? You knew they were old Army buddies but it felt like Bucky tried to push the limits of the loyalty every damn time.

"It's one date, that's all he wants," fell from his lips in almost a whisper, almost in pleading.

One date. A few hours, a meal, you were sure, some conversation. It was a chance for Bucky to prove that he was civil, that he truly was sorry for his actions. But something in your gut just couldn't help feeling like you were walking into a trap. "I said I wanted to help but..."

"You would be... saving me."

Steve's eyes finally met yours across the infinite space that was now between you. They were tired, bloodshot and red, and he wore the weight of his request heavy on his shoulders. The invisible fist finally broke through your sternum, crushing your heart into your lungs. How much would you be willing to break to lighten his load, to ease his soul again?

Slowly, tentatively you closed that space, his eyes never leaving your own as you stood before him. Your whole body felt numb, that was until your fingertips lightly brushed his temple and he leaned his head into your touch. The contact, his skin against yours, was both at once innocent and intimate and the feeling radiated back into your body. Your fingers moved through his hair and he rested his head against your abdomen, the beading in your dress cutting into his cheek but he didn't seem to mind. Slowly your heart came back to life, beating the fist back as best it could, pouring whatever it could into Steve to wash away the weight on his mind. And you knew in that moment that you would do anything you could for him.

Because you loved him.

**********

You didn't sleep well that night, it seemed like Steve didn't either. The timing never really seemed to work. He would reach out but hesitate to pull you close, you couldn't bridge the distance between. It was like you both wanted to pretend that this was a normal night, but there was too much anxiety between you, too much left unsaid. Whatever sleep you did get wasn't restful, punctuated by dreams of Bucky writing your name on a bullet.