For the Love of the Game // Bucky Barnes

Part Six

You sucked cool air through your teeth as Bucky pressed the cotton to your knees once more. He had you sat atop his bathroom counter, jeans replaced by a pair of his shorts with the baseball team's emblem stamped on the side. He had a million of those; athletes had so many sponsorships they never ran out of clothes.

"I know, doll. Almost done," Bucky mumbled. "Gotta clean 'em all the way."

After falling asleep in his—or Sam's—passenger seat, you hadn't woken up until he was opening your door and unbuckling your seatbelt. He tried to carry you up the steps to his small Brooklyn apartment, but you insisted that you were more than capable. He was left following closely behind with outstretched hands fidgeting each time you stumbled.

Once inside, you were quickly supplied with more water and a change of clothes, Bucky ushering you into the bathroom and lifting you onto the counter as soon as you were dressed. You definitely could have done that by yourself.

With another band-aid gently placed on your knee, Bucky rose to his full height. "Hands now," he all but whispered, reaching for your wrists.

"You don't need to do this." Your voice matched his. "It would've been fine overnight."

He paused, letting his thumb brush over the underside of your knuckles. He didn't meet your eyes. "Are you gonna tell me who pushed you out of that car?"

The heat turned on then, warm air entering the bathroom in a soft gust. You let it reach your skin before responding, goosebumps prickling your arms.

"Tomorrow."

He sighed, eyes falling shut as he shook his head. "Tell me more about freshman year then. When I... when I stood you up."

"Uh, what about it?" He let you yank your hand away at the first touch of medicine to your palm, patiently waiting as you returned it to his tender grip.

"Were you disappointed?"

You let out a quick laugh, leaning your head against the mirror behind you. "Of course I was disappointed, Bucky. Have you met yourself?" He brought your left hand under the running water of the sink as you continued. "You were the first guy I was interested in at this school, so it was quite the wake up call."

"And since then? There're other guys you've... been interested in?" He sounded strained as he spoke, and there was a slight grimace on his face.

"Maybe some. But not in the same way."

His gaze snapped up from your hand in a flash. "Not in the same way?"

"Unfortunately," you murmured, an uncomfortable smile gracing your lips as his features seemed to burn through you.

"I asked you something earlier—in the car," Bucky began, dropping your hand to place both of his palms flat against your thighs. "I'm gonna ask you again."

You felt your heart pick up at his words. He looked so serious; his eyes were darting back and forth between yours and the muscle in his jaw ticked when you looked down at his lips. Your mouth parted to let out a breath at the intensity as his grip on your thighs tightened.

"So ask me."

"Let me make it up to you, baby. Please."

And you knew you shouldn't, but your body was leaning across before you could stop yourself, lips pressed to his in a flurry. His surprised grunt was quickly followed by hands pressing against your waist until you were shuffled to the edge of the counter. His chest was prone to yours as he kissed you deeper and deeper, greedy touches trailing up to your cheeks.