Supernova

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The apartment was smaller now

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The apartment was smaller now.

It was the strangest thing. Bucky couldn't get to the coffee pot in the morning without squeezing past you with his hand pressed to the small of your back. The kitchen was so tiny now that when you cooked dinner he had to stand behind you, his arms around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. The couch had shrunk, too; you couldn't watch TV together without being pressed up close, and he couldn't drift off to sleep without your hands in his hair and your lips on his forehead. He didn't mind, of course. The closer you were, the more you kissed him, and holy hell, you were relentless. Bucky was getting a little better about it; the kisses didn't shock him anymore, didn't surprise him, but they sure as hell sent him into overdrive each and every time. Quick pecks and languid, lazy makeouts alike left him with a racing heart, struggling to catch his breath, yearning for more.

Bucky had therapy that morning, and Dr. Cromwell seemed pleased with his progress. His nightmares? Manageable. Paranoia? Handled. Panic? Well, there was a different type now.

He didn't tell Dr. Cromwell about what had happened with you. He didn't want anyone else's opinion, didn't want to be talked out of it, didn't want anyone telling him it was a bad idea. Maybe she'd tell him that everything he was afraid of was valid— that it was dangerous, reckless for him to become involved with someone who was hired to live with him. That it might not be real, might not be true, might be a trick. Shit, the doctor might not even believe him, might tell him he was being delusional.

"Let me get this straight. You're telling me this girl, this Stark employee who was hired to look after you while you're on house arrest, has been kissing you like you hung the stars in the sky? You're saying she makes you feel the most alive you've felt in decades and has you wrapped around her finger? Sure, okay, James. Come with me, we'll set you up in that nice padded room."

So no, he didn't mention you, but Dr. Cromwell knew something had changed. "Well, James, you seem to be in a much better headspace this week," she said as she packed up her files. "Whatever you're doing, keep it up."

Bucky's lips twitched as he fought back a smirk. Yes, ma'am. Doctor's orders. That was fine with him; his bed was smaller now, too.

 That was fine with him; his bed was smaller now, too

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