Chapter Text
“I’ll have a latt.. uh, just give me a tea please?” You sighed.
You couldn’t bear the taste of coffee right now, not with Bucky Barnes at the forefront of your mind. No distraction could free you from the chains he’d wrapped around your heart, no matter how hard you tried. So you chose your tea, paid for it and wandered back into the bust airport, eyes darting around the shops for something you could at least attempt to do instead of pining.
Retail therapy could ease any kind of heartache, or so Hollywood was always telling you. But like with most of what came from the silver screen, that was just an unobtainable fantasy, because two bottles of perfume, a giant Toblerone and a ridiculous hat later, the only thing that was any lighter was your bank account.
He was still on your mind, planted stubbornly right at the forefront of your subconscious. The man you couldn’t have, who you’d spilled your heart to and been rejected by. You couldn’t just get over it, you just had to persevere until you learned to live with the pain.
Until then you’d have to get used to hearing his voice echo in your head, seeing his face in the crowd, remembering him with every beat of your heart.
Except…
“Bucky?”
He skidded to a halt at the ticket desk and looked over his shoulder, disbelief on his features.
“I made it.” He gasped, and for a brief second you thought he was going to fall over.
“What the hell are you doing here?” You demanded.
His victorious grin dropped, replaced by fear and anxiety. You waited for some sort of explanation as he strode over to you, dodging suitcases and holiday-bound families until he was standing right in front of you. He was close enough for you to reach out and touch him, and you did have that urge. Then your heart palpitated painfully and you were reminded that this wasn’t a happy reunion.
“What are you doing here?” You asked again.
He too a deep breath, his shoulders tensing up and you felt a flicker of anxiety at his clearly stressed demeanour.
“Doll, please don’t leave, not yet. I need to talk to you and I know I don’t deserve it but I am begging you…”
“Bucky, I…” You tried to interrupt, perplexed.
“Just please don’t get on that plane. Or do, just not yet. I know your job is important and I would never want to get in the way of that, I’ll buy you another ticket just.. please.” He pleaded.
“My… My job is in… New York.” You stammered, utterly befuddled.
“What?” He reeled back, frowning.
“I’m not here to get on plane. I’m here cause Nat called me and said if I met her at the airport she’d buy me a Cinnabon.” You explained numbly.
He blinked dumbly at you, trying to make sense of your words.
“You’re not leaving?” He clarified.
“No?”
He narrowed his eyes while you just stood there like a dumbass and tried to figure out what was going on.
“Does Natasha have two friends called Maria and Sharon by any chance?” He finally asked.
“Yeah, they work at the Detective Agency with her? What is going on?” You demanded.
He didn’t answer, he just gazed at you with an indecipherable expression, his hands fidgeting.
“Bucky?”
“I fucked up.” He blurted out.
“Right. What’s that got to do with me?” You asked nervously.
“Did you know that Sam keeps a copy of the story you wrote about him in his wallet?” He asked, and the sudden turn of the conversation made you almost dizzy.
“Yes, I knew. He’s very proud of it.” You said, just a tad bitterly.
“He showed it to me, after I dropped you off at home that day. The day I found out what you did for a living.”
“Is there a point to this?” You snapped, or rather you tried to snap. It came out a tad more pathetically than you’d intended.
“I told him I knew about your magazine, and he showed me that story. See, he thought I knew. Everybody thought I knew. But I didn’t know a damn thing. I thought it was him, I thought it was Sam.” He whispered, his voice barely reaching your ears through the commotion and din of the airport.
“Why are you telling me this? Do you have some sort of issue with me writing about Sam? Because you have no right Bucky, none. You made your feelings clear, so you don’t get to take issue with who I write about.”
And he smiled, like it was funny. You felt your heart drop and your blood pressure spike in one foul swoop, but before you could get any traction on your anger he took two giant strides forward, standing right in front of you.
“There’s been so many misunderstandings. No more. So I’ll say this as clearly and plainly as I can. I thought you were in love with Sam, not me, and I pushed you away because I was trying to be a martyr. I didn’t want to come between you and my friend because you are two of the best people I know and I thought you deserved each other. If I’d had any idea who you were really writing about then I wouldn’t have held back.” He told you, pinning you to the spot with his gaze.
Sam? He thought… but he… but you… Sam? Did this mean what you daren’t hope it meant? Was Bucky really saying what you thought? The slight chance that he was absolutely floored you, and for the first time in your life you found yourself rendered utterly speechless.
His eyes searched yours as he reached out to tenderly cup your face in his hands, metal and flesh caressing your skin as you started to hyper-ventilate.
“And doll? Now I know.” He declared.
You needed to say something now. Anything. Anything! Any words at all, damnit.
“You fucking moron!” You exclaimed.
Well, those were words alright.
“Not what I hoped you’d say, but fair.” He laughed softly.
“Bucky I… MONTHS! Months I sat there and wrote about you. It was all right there in print, but you only read one story, one! I tried to kiss you! You! I have loved you so much, for so long, and you thought it was Sam?! Sam Wilson?”
“It does take two to miscommunicate.” He pointed out ruefully.
“But it was you Bucky. It was always you.” You whispered, and you were suddenly looking at him through clouded vision as your eyes teared up.
You’d been lugging around this broken heart, because of a misunderstanding? Because if Bucky was here, setting the record straight then there had to be a reason.
Right?
“It was always me, and it’s always been you. Because I am irrevocably, unconditionally, persistently in love with you too.” He whispered, the words melting into your heart and tattooing themselves there.
A sob broke free from your throat and he stepped in closer, holding you as close as he could. But despite the tears trailing down your face, you were smiling.
“I need time to think about it.” You huffed.
“Alright.” He agreed, “You can have ten seconds.”
“Five.” You countered as he leant in.
“Three.” He decided firmly, his lips ghosting against yours.
And this time he didn’t pull away, he didn’t push you away.
This time his lips pressed against yours, and in that first taste of him you felt the whole world fall into place.
All of history, everyone who ever lived, billions of moments, every star aligning, all to lead up to this moment. And maybe it was fate, maybe it was chance, maybe it was pre-written or pure coincidence; but it didn’t really matter. It was love, it didn’t need to be explained. It just needed to be felt.
And with Bucky Barnes lips on yours, his arms around you, and his heart beating in tandem with yours? Yeah, you felt it.