Your Ivy Grows

Chapter 37

Bucky

Today had been a day of firsts for him. It marked the first time he got to fuck Alexis on a bed—the second, third and fourth time too. Showering with her was another first for him; not just a first with her, but a first altogether. He's never shared that with anyone else before her. It's also the first time Bucky's ever cooked a meal for a woman. He rarely even cooks for himself, but he'd wanted to do it for her. He can also admit it's the first time he's sat across from someone with the inexplicable need to know everything about them.

As he'd thrown question after question at her, he'd hung on her every word as she answered them. No matter how small the detail, he wanted to know it all. She'd acted like some questions were silly, but she'd answered them regardless and he'd given his own answers back. He'd collected her responses like they were fucking treasures, storing them away so he'd never forget them.

He'd kept his questions light, sticking to his plan that baby steps were the best way forward—at least for now. Bucky's fucked things up enough times already to learn that he can't treat their time alone together like an interrogation.

When she'd walked into his kitchen, he'd barely been able to bring himself to turn to look at her. He'd expected to find her fully clothed, an excuse ready for why she needed to leave. But he'd turned to find her standing there in nothing but his shirt and he'd felt close to crying with relief. He'd promised himself then and there that he'd do whatever he could to get her to stay there with him for as long as possible.

It worked; they'd spent hours on his couch together talking. He's never wanted to know someone in the way he wants to know her. He wants to know everything. Every little thing that makes up who she is. All those moments that have shaped and changed her; he wants to know what they are. He needs to know what she loves, the things she hates. There's no detail too small or insignificant to him. If it matters to her, it matters to him.

She'd become relaxed, the most relaxed he's ever seen her. Laughing and joking with him, teasing him with playful jabs about his complete lack of knowledge of any movies or shows she named. When she'd teased him about his age, he'd thrown her over his shoulder to take her back to bed and remind her just what he was capable of, old man or not.

Once he got her back to his bed, they didn't leave it for the rest of the evening. He'd slowly drew that apology from her using his mouth and fingers. Leaving her on the cusp of an orgasm over and over again until she'd apologised before begging him to let her come. Then he'd proven his point further by fucking her for the rest of the night, barely stopping to catch his breath in between.

Alexis insisted on leaving once it got dark, despite him essentially pleading with her to stay. But she wouldn't risk John returning early and finding her missing. Bucky can't exactly blame her for being cautious, but it doesn't make him hate her absence any less. He'd reluctantly let her go once she promised she'd return the next day if John was still gone.

He'd tried to sleep in his bed for once, for no other reason than her scent lingered there. For just a moment, he could pretend she was still with him. But the bed soon became unbearable to lie in without her. Too big, too soft. He needed something to ground him, which is how he found himself back in his usual spot on the living room floor, his head resting on a pillow that smells of her, blanketed by the scent of her still clinging to his blanket.

Before he left the bed, he'd snapped a quick picture on his phone of the empty spot she had occupied a few hours earlier. Laying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, he finally caves and sends it to her.

B: Seems to be something missing in my bed. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?

While his tone is teasing, he means it. He wanted her here, wanted her to stay. His bed is empty without her. The idea of falling asleep with her in his arms and waking up to her body curled against his—it's something he never knew he needed until she took the possibility away. He wanted that first with her too.

When his phone buzzes beside him, he grabs for it and opens her message. Warmth settles over him when he sees what she's sent him. It's a photo of her laying in bed, her head against a pillow as she faces the camera. If he turns sideways, it almost feels like she's lying beside him.

A: Now you can imagine I'm there with you.

He smiles at that. It's not the same as having her here, but he'll take it. Propping the phone up beside him on the floor, he lies on his side and faces it. He rarely sleeps, at least not well, and he knows tonight will be no different.

It's only when he wakes the next day to morning light streaming through the windows that he realises he slept through the entire night. Not once was he pulled from sleep by the nightmares that usually plague him.