Neighbors

Knead You

You groaned as you rolled over in your bed, wanting nothing more than to remain there all day. Your body was still slightly sore from the night before, having been thrown around by the super-soldier next door more times than you dared to count. You were exhausted, even after falling asleep during the movie. The one you had watched on the couch... but here you were in your bed.

"You could stay, too," you had whispered as Bucky continued to hold you close, unable to filter yourself in your sleepy state.

Another groan left your body, draping your arm over your eyes in embarrassment. You couldn't believe yourself. Had you really asked him to stay? While he was lowering you into your bed? The man had carried you there, and you asked him to stay. What were you thinking?

"Maybe another night, peach."

His words echoed through your head, remembering how gingerly he'd kissed your knuckles as he detached you from around his neck. A new wave of embarrassment crashed against you as you remembered clinging to him like your life depended on it, though the blow was softened by how unbothered he seemed to be about it. He had been gentle and soft as he cared for you, smiling fondly at you... and he hadn't rejected you. And was it... a promise of it happening again? Was he entertaining the idea of 'next time'?

You brought your hands back down to rub your face, forcing yourself awake, and proceeded to run your fingers through your hair. You felt your cheeks heat back up when you remembered the feeling of Bucky's hands in your hair after he'd taken the time to release it from the confines of the retro updo.

"Ah shit..." you breathed, as images of the condition you'd left your apartment in the night before came back to you. You pulled yourself reluctantly out of bed, slow and groggy as you began to put one foot in front of the other, but when you took a second to look around you, you stopped in your tracks.

The polka-dotted dress you'd thrown over your desk chair was placed delicately in the hamper, and the shoes that you'd kicked off had been set down neatly beside your closet. Feeling much more awake, you ventured through your bedroom doorway, glancing into the open bathroom across the hall to see the counter clear of any of the tools that had been used the night before. The living room was much the same way, the pile of bobby pins you knew had existed on the coffee table nowhere to be seen, and your belongings set neatly on the table by the front door. The candle on the kitchen counter had been blown out, the blanket on the back of the couch straightened, each throw-pillow put in its proper place... and the door was locked behind him.

You couldn't do much more than sit dumbfounded on the couch, knowing that after Bucky had catered to you, carried you to bed, he took care of your apartment. He had shut everything down for the night, from the movie to the mess you'd helped him make earlier in the afternoon, and it made you feel warm.

"Maybe another night, peach."

Maybe there will be another night... where you might be able to hold him through the night, wrapped in his strong arms for longer than a few hours at a time in awkward positions on your couch. Thoughts like these invaded your mind, haunting you for longer than you'd like to admit. It made movie nights particularly difficult to focus on, curled up into his side like always, yet wide awake with the notion of what might follow. And it wasn't like trying to sit away from him would help. He'd find his way over to you like it was second nature, and you certainly didn't mind.

This mentality had persisted into the next week, distracting thoughts of the man in question all that occupied your mind the following Monday morning at work, unable to stop yourself from messaging the super-soldier throughout your day.

What are you doing for lunch?

I brought the rest of the spaghetti from the other night