Chapter 11: Time for one last mission

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Dreams are always sweeter when they're fed with beautiful thoughts in those hazy moments before sleep takes hold. The mind clings to the last traces of happiness, reshaping them into something new, something nice. Something to hold onto.

Sleep seldom comes easy, but this night is different. Blissful exhaustion and absolute safety are an effective combination, and they ease you into the deepest sleep you can remember. The dreams are full of muted colors and pleasant flickers of memory, bottomless blue eyes and the quirk of a lopsided grin. It seems a shame to wake, until you remember this dream is solid and real, in the shape of the extraordinary man sleeping beside you.

Drowsy fingers reach for him, searching across the massive bed, before meeting the disappointment of cool fabric and empty air. Humming to yourself, you keep your eyes closed, tucking your face to your shoulder, breathing deep. Bucky's scent is soaked into your skin, the blazing heat of his touch branded across your body, the heavy feel of him a phantom ache between your legs. Every gentle nip of his teeth, every slick slide of his tongue, every delicate press of his lips, all of it is there.

Understanding blossoms in your chest, heart-stopping in the clarity is brings.

This is a man who has literally walked through smoke and fire for you. Opened his home and his heart, fought for your trust and earned it tenfold. He's freely given you the most important pieces of who he is, and it seems only fitting that you hand him your heart in return.

The fact is simple. Inevitable, really. Bucky Barnes is tangled up in your soul, an impossible knot that you have no desire to ever unravel.

For the first time in forever, the world finally makes a little more sense.

Rolling to the edge of the bed, you snag one his many pillows, hugging it tight. An errant thought pops into your head, as you bury you face in the soft feathers, stifling the laugh that bubbles up. It's been two full days since you gave him one of your grudgingly agreed compliments, the first time you've missed payment since your original wager. After last night, you feel a playful desire to come up with the dirtiest, filthiest, most sinfully extravagant comment possible, because the thought of Bucky blushing, from his neck all the way down to his...well, let's just say that image does things to you.

Well. No time like the present to start.

Crawling naked from the warm safety of the comforter, you pick up his fuzzy blue blanket and wrap it around your shoulders, the plush velvet rubbing invitingly against your skin. It's so perfectly reminiscent of his soft lips mapping every contour of your body mere hours earlier, it sends a happy shiver down your spine.

Slowly cracking the bedroom door, you find the wall to the balcony wide open, early morning air whirling through the dark living room. Bucky stands outside, a silhouette facing the fading twinkle of city lights. Dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, his head is bowed low, both hands resting heavily on the railing.

Goosebumps crawl up your legs when you step outside, the cold air licking at your toes. Tiptoeing up behind him, you curve an arm around him and lay a hand over his heart, resting your head against his broad back. He doesn't turn, doesn't say a word, but you feel him tense at the touch.

Snuggling closer, your voice is muffled against the wrinkled t-shirt.

"Are you okay?"

He grips the rail tighter, and you hear a faint whine as the iron bends under the unforgiving pressure of bright silver fingers. A long minute passes, before you hear his hoarse voice.

"I'm fine," he answers quietly, his body motionless beneath your hand. "It's too early to be up, why don't you go back to bed."

Stroking your fingers down the hard plane of his chest, you press a kiss between his shoulder blades.

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