Krasivaya

Part 5

Bucky's POV

Oh, he had fucked up this time. His inability to describe how beautiful you truly were causing you deep pain. That made him disgusted with himself.

The way you had shrunk in on yourself, reached for Steve for comfort, he was no longer your go to guy. No longer the man you sought out when you felt down. He had been replaced by his best friend. The best friend that got to touch you in ways he had only ever dreamt about. That got to kiss you and feel you and wake up to your smile.

He'd been so close to finally claiming you that day in the kitchen. So close to finally tasting you. But Steve just had to rip you away from him.

He was angry. Angry at you. Angry with Steve for not realising how deeply in love with you he truly was.

"What the fuck was that, punk?" Steve spits out.

"That was me telling the truth. You wouldn't ever go for a dame like her, and all of a sudden you can't keep ya hands off of her?" He scoffs, watching as Steve sucks in a harsh breath.

"Jesus, Buck. What the hell is wrong with you?" Steve asks in disbelief.

He merely snorts, turning to Mel, "We're going to bed," he grits out. Yanking her from her seat, and ushering her down the hall. He's slightly disgusted at the way she revels in his attention.

Shoving her hard against the door, he rips the top she's wearing down the front, exposing her perfect body to the cool air. He wastes no time in sucking a nipple into his mouth.

Her moan sounds wrong to his ears. Her body doesn't feeling right under his hands. Her hands tug at his hair. "James," she moans.

He cringes at the tone of her voice, wishing with everything he has that it was you writhing underneath him.

He growls out, "On your knees."

She complies immediately, sinking down to the ground, fumbling with his zipper.

All he needed was to forget.

Melissa was a means to an end.

Your POV:

You were curled up in a ball on your bed, listening to the moans filtering through the wall.

It had you sick to the stomach. Bile rises in your throat. You wanted nothing more than to run from this place. But you had a duty. A responsibility to the people of the world. You were never one to give up when the going got tough.

Steve enters the bedroom, his nose crinkling in disgust as he hears the moans of his best friend through the wall. He doesn't bother asking your permission. He picks you up bridal style, carrying you to his bedroom, and depositing you on his bed. He crawls in behind you, nuzzling into your hair, the well of emotion finally bubbles over.

"Why can't I be pretty like her, Stevie?" you sob as you shove your face into the pillow. "Why can't he see me for what I am?"

Steve strokes your hair, listening as you cry out your pain.

"How did I end up here? How did I become this person?"

Steve sighs. "Oh, doll. Why can't ya see how beautiful, how special you truly are?" he says, sadness bleeding into his tone.

You snort. "I'm not though, am I? He only sees a fat, useless lump! God knows I've tried, Steve. I've tried to make him see me as more, but he'll only ever see the outside. He'll never know how much I love him." Words drown in the ugly crying which is currently happening.

"Shh, baby girl. It's gonna be okay." Steve tries to comfort you, hugging you tighter. "He's a fool for not seein' what's right in front of him, and I'm always gonna be here for ya, darlin'."

You turn to face him, hope plain on your face. "Do you mean it? You aren't going to toss me to the side when you find someone to love?"

He chuckles dryly. "Oh, doll. I could never do that to ya, you're my friend. And ya mean the world ta me. I promise I'll always be there for ya."

You believe him.

Steve Rogers isn't one to lie. He's too good, too pure.

Content with the knowledge that you aren't completely alone in the world, you fall into a dreamless sleep, snuggled tightly in Captain America's arms.