Oleander - Bucky BarnesxOC

CHAPTER FIVE: ALL THE THINGS I WOULD DO

CW: BRACE YOURSELVES FOR SPICE. Masturbation, dry humping, daddy kink, degradation kink (and derogatory language during sex). I was blushing the entire time I wrote this. I SAID THIS WOULD BE DARKER AND OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONE AND I MEANT IT.

I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus
When her body was found
I'd be the choiceless hope in grief
That drove him underground
I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee
That made him turn around
And I'd be the immediate forgiveness
In Eurydice
Imagine being loved by me
- Hozier, "Talk"

Dinner is calm and oddly normal despite the kiss that they shared. James seems lost in thought at times. She tries to guess, but she's always been pretty shitty about figuring out what people are thinking. He seems to stare through her as he chews, his mind a thousand times away from what's going on at the table. She wonders if it's residual stuff from his phone call. He looked annoyed when he answered it.

Dahlia doesn't mind the silence. It gives her a chance to study his features - his sharp cheekbones, perfect jawline, and the little dimple in his chin. She's never been good at filling those awkward silences that crop up in conversations, especially on dates.

If this is a date.

It's probably a date.

"Why do you love flowers so much?" He asks out of nowhere.

Dahlia thinks for a moment. She's never actually contemplated that question before. It just ran in the family. Her grandfather owned In Bloom before it was called In Bloom, and then her dad took over and passed that love down to her. Maybe it's something genetic. Her mind struggles to come up with an answer.

"To be honest with you, I have no idea," she laughs.

"There must be a reason," he presses.

Dahlia exhales softly and laughs, watching him look over his shoulder at the bouquet that sits on the kitchen counter.

"I think there's something fleeting about them," he says softly. "You pick them, and put them in water, but the ownership over that kind of beauty is temporary. Then you spend a week watching them die."

"That's a bit of a depressing way to look at it," she laughs.

James shrugs.

"Realistic."

"That too."

They smile at each other and Dahlia takes a bite of her salmon.

"I don't know why. My dad just passed that love down to me. He'd been digging in the garden since I was a baby and he always took me hiking. He would tell me what berries not to eat, and which ones were okay. Then, when he started teaching me about flowers, he said that there was a kind of mastery when it came to taking care of something so delicate. You know how some people are just the kind of people who kill plants?"

James points at himself.

"It's why I hired a gardener."

Dahlia nods.

"They're impatient." James snorts at the comment and smirks. Dahlia gets a little nervous at his response, but she keeps talking. "Working with flowers takes time and patience. For some people, it's the closest they get to being in nature and to hold that in your hand is something... beautiful, even if it's fleeting." She sips her wine and James stares at her. "And you totally can prolong the life of your flowers if you change the water, feed them, and keep them out of the sunlight."

He chuckles.

"That's why you're the expert."

"I can teach you if you want."