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seashellrosekitty · 29 days ago

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The Last Dance | Chapter Seven

Author's Note: Given that I rarely have the time to keep writing this series, I hope you lovelies will forgive me for writing much longer chapters from here on. I'm putting all the pieces in huge chunks of chapters to save time posting smaller ones.

Hope you enjoy this one. xx

-Rose 🥀

Chapter Summary: A quiet Friday with James turns into an unexpected night out — jazz, red lipstick, and the kind of warmth you haven't let yourself feel in months. But as the city’s glow dims, an encounter at work pushes you to the edge. Through it all, he stays close…steady, tender, and maybe something more. Nothing will be the same after this.

Word Count: 7.3k (the longest one so far lol)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader (eventually)

Warnings: 18+ Content! Teenage pregnancy, arranged marriage, religious theme, sexist theme, fluff, smut (of course), angst, Steve being a cold jerk, characters coming from the comics (i.e. Bucky’s family), MCU characters appearing in this era (i.e. Bruce is your younger brother and some others who will appear in the next chapters).

Read the whole series in AO3

Chapter Six - The City (Part Two)

Chapter Title: The Speakeasy

A week later, everything went as usual at the office, except that James came home earlier than usual one Friday afternoon. He came to the kitchen to greet you then went upstairs to take a shower before dinner. You learned how to make meatloaf and some mashed potatoes and got better at cooking somehow, even as easily as boiling vegetables became natural to you. Then, you noticed that James didn’t come down for dinner at 6:30, so you went upstairs to the bedroom to check on him. As you quietly peeked into the bedroom, you found him sitting on his side of the bed, just staring out into the window, his forearms resting on his legs with his back bent over.

“Barnes?” You knocked on the door quietly. You pushed the door gently, making it squeak a little as you took slow steps inside the bedroom. “You okay?” It took a second before he answered.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He straightened up and turned his head around to face you, smiling at you, the same smile dropping at a sudden unspoken realization. "Actually, no. I'm not. I haven't been honest, doll." The sudden serious tone in his voice made you move closer, just an inch beside him on the side of the bed. He gently took your hand and nudged you to sit down with him.

"What's going on?"

"This past week...I haven't been going to the construction site. I got fired." He paused to let that sink in. "I've been going around the city every day to look and eventually tell you when I got one...but I haven't had much luck."

"Oh...But what happened? Why were you fired?" You squeezed his hand gently when you realized he was still holding yours.

"Apparently, my boss's boss is your boss's good friend. Guess he found out where I was working and called in a favor. Couldn't even give me two weeks to look for a job. Had to spend the rest of Monday looking for other places. My boss didn't want to fire me, but he was going to get fired too if he didn't. Better me than him, right?"

"I'm sorry, Barnes...this is all my fault."

"No," he said before you could continue. "This was my fault. I shouldn't have barged into your office and made a scene." He took a sharp breath and there was a moment of silence as you waited for him to continue. "I just couldn't take that guy coming on to you like that. Askin' you out like you weren't married already," he groaned. You exhaled sharply and looked at him, your eyes telling him to stop thinking about what happened that day.

"Oh come on, doll. Don't tell me you didn't see it. And that wasn't all! He sent you flowers. Flowers, doll face. Who the fuck sends flowers to their married secretary?! Or to their employee, god!" He shook his head and ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair as he took a deep breath, then gently raised your hand and kissed the back of your palm as he looked at you. "You saw it too, didn't you?" He looked at you with searching eyes, as if he wasn't taking no or "I don't know" for an answer. You nodded softly and sighed before speaking.

"Yeah. It was creepy. It was hard to keep my boundaries, James. He wasn't asking me out on a romantic lunch, but I could hear it in his tone. I didn't feel safe around him. Receiving those flowers...no matter how uncomfortable I felt, I was better at shoving that aside. I have bigger problems." That made him chuckle.

"We definitely have bigger problems," he corrected, triggering a memory from your wedding, the moment you shared in the bridal care before the ceremony. You held your gaze on each other. A very small, melancholic smile drawn behind your gaze, both of you resigned at the fact that the world is bigger than both of you.

“Right. Dinner,” he suddenly stood up, wiping his face in one downward motion before smiling at you again as pulled you up from your seat. “You really got the hang of cooking, yeah? Doesn't smell like something's burning anymore.” He said as he chuckled a little. You chuckled softly with him, swatting him on the shoulder. "Ow!" He feinted his pain.

“You know you still cook better than me,” you remarked as you both went down the stairs.

“Only because I liked cooking with my Gramma.”

The both of you had a fairly pleasant dinner as you talked about some high school memories and common friends, and girls that James dated. As he noticed you were finished with your dinner, he looked at you as if he just had an idea.

“Do you wanna go out tonight?” He asked, looking down on his plate as if he suddenly regretted asking you the moment he did. You looked at him as you thought where could the both of you possibly go on a Friday night. “Well, there’s a speakeasy that Nat told me about the other day.” Surprise and delight showed in your face at the thought, but a sudden realization brought out a chuckle from you.

“You know I couldn’t drink, right?”

“So what? You don’t have to, doll face. Let’s just…” he shrugged. “...get out. Let loose. Dance.” His brows raised with delight, his blue marble eyes twinkling as he looked at you with the last word lingering in his mind. You looked at him in the eyes and smiled back, pressing your lips together at the thought of being out again and having fun. You nodded excitedly.

“I’d love to go dancing. Been a while.” After that, he helped you wash the dishes and then you both got ready for the night out. He promised he would have you home by midnight or before that as you’re supposed to be resting when you could.

James wore a 3-piece suit you had probably seen Steve wear before. You’ve never seen James look so sharp in a suit, his hair slicked back since your wedding day. He waited for you downstairs as you finished getting dolled up. It has been some time since you went out. You had trouble choosing a nice dress that was club and married-woman-appropriate. Your hair was already fixed from this morning, but you decided to fix it up a bit differently, with loose-end curls and locks, which represented you were letting loose a little tonight. And to top that off, you wore the red lipstick you had bought impulsively before you knew you were pregnant and never got to wear yet. You always opted for pink lipsticks as the red ones were a bit too bold for your liking. You looked at yourself in the mirror of your vanity. You thought to yourself: things, no, your life changed when you got pregnant. You rubbed your belly at the thought. Considering where you were headed tonight, and after everything that’s happened so far, there was nobody else you wanted to go out with after all.

But something else has been going on deep inside you. An intense emotion was emerging from deep inside as Steve crossed your mind. A shift. An impulse. Something. Your gaze at the mirror changed as you took a deep breath and applied the red lipstick in one smooth glide into your lips. You studied your appearance in the mirror and sighed again. You looked different in the red lipstick. Pretty. It was different than the one you wore at your wedding. This one had a "pop" effect against your skin tone. You smiled at yourself in the mirror as you discovered a new you. You've always been beautiful, but now you were also bold and brazen.

It didn’t take long for James to wait for you. As he heard you coming down the stairs, he went for the door and wore his fedora hat, then watched you come down, but took it off again and put it over his chest as he gazed at you from head to toe. Before he realized it, he held his breath as his jaw dropped and he closed his mouth and cleared his throat as he tried his best to keep his thoughts to himself.

“Wow,” He took a breath and approached you, taking your hand as you took the last few steps down. “Damn." He chuckled. "I thought an angel came to take me away,” His words made you chuckle, but also sent light tingles down your back, for some reason. An unfamiliar feeling. He gazed at your lips and then back to your eyes again. You know he's never held you in his eyes this way before, but you didn't let that get to your head too much.

“Well, aren't you a charmer?" You laughed softly and continued, "I don't remember you looking this handsome in our wedding,” you expressed and gave him a warm smile. He fixed his tie in a one-hand motion quite proudly, but gave you a questioning smirk.

“Eh, that wasn't really my style. Didn't have this hat then,” He tipped his hat properly to hide the blush on his face. “Helps me look more like…a young man,” He chuckled as he put on his hat and then took your light coat hanging on the rack to help you wear it.

“Kinda like my lipstick, I guess.” You chuckled as you turned around to wear your coat.

“You look prettier…with that on,” he spoke softly behind you as he fixed your coat collar. "The prettiest even without any makeup on," he added, then cleared his throat again and opened the door for you. You didn’t know what to say and just gave him a soft smile. You reached for your back to rub yourself below your neck as if to let the tingles go away as you walked out of the apartment with him.

The both of you walked down the street and onto the nearest train station to take a train to Harlem, where the speakeasy was located. As you got to the location, he took you to a set of cement stairs leading to a basement, holding your hand as you took the steps. You held his hand as you didn’t want to hold on to the iron railings when you weren’t wearing gloves. You could faintly hear the muffled noise a typical club would have. Bass, drums, piano, and trumpets playing, a crowd laughing and having indistinct conversations.

He knocked a specific rhythm on the large wooden door, knock, knock-knock, knock . A small window opened, revealing only the eyes of the person guarding the door. He looked at you and James. You tilted your head down but glanced at him again.

“What brings you young fellas ‘ere?”

“The Black Widow invited us here,” James answered, almost sounding like he'd been here before. You whispered to him, “The Black Widow?” He simply nodded to you, assuring you that he knew what he said and that it was going to be fine. The big door unlocked and opened, the sound of the music becoming a bit louder as you stepped into the venue. James offered his arm for you to take, tucked your wrist between his forearm and upper arm, and held the back of your hand as he guided you both through the door.

The man behind the door emerged and glued his eyes on both of you, watching you both from head to toe as you walked into the hallway, but stayed on the spot he was standing on. The hallway was dimly lit with hanging light bulbs but it wasn’t so hard to find your steps on the stone floor. In 10 feet, you could see a dark curtain made of thick, heavy, velvet cloth concealing the party happening inside. A woman’s voice on a microphone started to fill your ears as she started vocalizing in song. James turned his head to face you and stopped a little. “You hear that?” He asked with a huge smile, excitement written all over his face. You smiled back and hummed excitedly. “Mhmm,” was all you could say, as you tried to slowly take in the scene. It almost felt like it was a sin just showing up to this place.

Finally, he slid open the dark curtain and held it to let you pass before him. The lively, jazz-filled party emerged before your eyes. It may only be a party in a speakeasy, but to you, it felt like stepping into another world, away from the reality you had to face each day. The dance floor was in the center of the room. You blushed as you watched the couples dancing on the floor. The live band played lively and gleefully. You were captivated by the loud sound of the live band as you realized you hadn’t gone to a club since the last time you went with Steve. Before your thoughts could lead you astray, a hostess greeted you and led you to your table. James pulled the chair for you and let you sit down then he sat on his.

A waiter approached your table and asked for your orders. “Yeah, could we have a bowl o’nuts? Tom Collins for me, neat.” James ordered.

“And for the dame?” The waiter glanced at you. James waited for a second for you to answer and you gave him a confused look, reminding him that you’re not supposed to drink.

“Uh, a Shirley Temple for the lady.” He glanced at you to check if you were ok with it, and you nodded to him and the waiter and smiled politely. You've never had a Shirley Temple before, but you trusted James that he knew what he was ordering.

“A’right. Can I get you anything else?”

“Yeah, something she could munch on that ain’t nuts. You got chicken fingers 'ere?” "Yes, sir." "Great, we'll have that." As the waiter left, you kept looking around while dancing your shoulders to the jazz music, smiling to yourself as you took in the dancing scene.

James observed the place too, but not before he saw how much you were enjoying yourself already, your face showing "I can't believe we're here right now!" as you looked everywhere.

"We should dance," He spoke loudly as it was hard to be heard over the live band. You gave him a shy look but were grinning from ear to ear. You responded in the same volume as him, "Maybe later. I wanna feel this place out first."

"Good call," He said and smiled, then watched the other clubgoers dancing on the dance floor. Your drinks were served. "I promise I'll have only one," He said, referring to his glass of Tom Collins. You shook your head and encouraged him to drink as much as he wanted. "Are you kiddin' me? No." He put his hand over yours that was holding your glass of Shirley Temple. "I need the release but I can't drink more with you present, ok? Need to look out for you, darlin'." You gave him a worried look. "It's ok. We came here to go dancing, not get shit-faced. Don't worry." He gave you a reassuring nod, squeezed your hand, and smiled at you again. "Come on, let's take a sip and hit the floor, yeah? We ought to do what we came for, doll!"

You took a few sips of your drink and giggled excitedly as he offered his hand. You felt every burden get washed away the moment you stood up taking his hand. You danced the lively jazz songs in a series until you broke a sweat, then finally sat at your table again. James called a waiter.

"Hey, man, can you get us some water?" James asked the waiter over the loud music, and then asked him to come closer to whisper, "Oh, and could please hurry? My lady's parched from all the dancin'. Thanks." He grinned as he watched you drink your glass thirstily. "What'd I tell ya, doll, huh? It's fun, ain't it?" You let out a hearty laugh as you nodded to his statement.

"Uh-huh." You looked around while fanning your face with your hand. "Thanks for bringing me here tonight, Barnes. I didn't know you were so fun to go clubbing with!"

He gave you a longing gaze with a little smile. "You never asked. Besides, I didn't go where you probably did." You shot him a look as you noticed him not mentioning Steve, even though he probably knew you were with Steve all those times. "I always went to places like this."

"What do you mean? Steve and I always went to speakeasies."

"Yeah, but the places you went to were probably lame." He said, chuckling. "Steve knew the popular places, doesn't mean they were the best though."

"Alright, alright. I see what you mean. This place feels more...prohibited." You giggled together, referring to the prohibition era. The food arrived as the the live band took a break and an instrumental quartet took their place. You continued talking, eating, and drinking and also observing the clubgoers. You haven't had a cocktail, even a non-alcoholic one since you got pregnant, or done anything remotely fun, so you immersed yourself in the experience. Nothing else mattered except that you were in the club with James. You were safe. Nobody around judged you or told you what to do.

When the band came back on stage, they were tuning their instruments as a host took the microphone and greeted the whole place.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have been graced tonight by one of the best voices of jazz -please welcome! Miss Ella Fitzgerald!"

"Oh my god!" You and James said in unison, your jaw dropping in surprise as you looked back and forth to the stage and James, both of you clapping excitedly. The crowd cheered and clapped at the announcement. "I can't believe she's here!!! Did you know???" You asked him excitedly, his head shaking as he chuckled.

"No! I'm just as surprised as you are! Aren't we lucky?" You nodded at him as you gave him an incredulous expression. The trumpets and horns started playing a playful melody while Ella Fitzgerald danced onstage before the microphone. As percussions picked up, people started getting on the dance floor again.

"You can say that again! Oh my god, I think I'm gonna cry, Bucky!" You grabbed his hand and squeezed it with excitement. He caught his breath and sighed as he smiled at you but you were too excited to notice his gaze. He squeezed your hand back and pulled it a little across the table to catch your attention.

"Can I have this dance, wife?" You blushed at hearing him call you that. You went back to the dance floor and started dancing to the lively song. A couple of songs after, the band started playing "Do I Love You?" and everyone on the dance floor settled into slow dancing. James put one hand on your hip, pulling you gently against him now as you put your arm over his shoulders. "I can't believe we're slow-dancing...to Ella Fitzgerald...in a club." He let out a hum of approval as he smiled. "Thanks for bringing me here, Barnes." You gave him a genuine, appreciative smile and then rested the side of your face against his. "Thanks for comin' with me, darlin'. Wouldn't have been twice as fun without you." You hummed in agreement.

James suddenly chuckled to himself, which made you pull back to face him.

"What's so funny?"

"You didn't even notice it." "What? Something on my face?" You panicked a little, lifting your hands to check on your face, your hair, and your dress. James gently chuckled then softly took your hands and put your arm back where they were, the gentle action making you calm down.

"Relax, darlin'. You look perfect." He motioned for your waist to sway with him again. These silent and gentle commands had you blushing unknowingly. You started swaying with him again, but your unanswered question was still written on your face.

"You finally called me 'Bucky'." He let that hang in the air his eyes glued on yours. It was hard to tell if he was blushing because of the alcohol, or the dancing, or because of what he just told you, but he looked different this time. Not the same way when you danced at your wedding, or when you danced in his kitchen. "Want me to stop?" You asked softly. He chuckled as he shook his head and gently kissed your knuckles. "No...I want to hear it again. Let me hear you call me that again, sweetness." He kissed the back of your fingers this time and then gently placed them back on his nape and let his hand rest on your back. "Bucky," You said softly. He blushed as his lips curved upward. "Darlin'," he whispered in response as you kept swaying with him to the song. "You know you're so gentle and kind?" You said softly, just thinking about all the things he's been and all the things he's done to you and for you. He pulled you in just a little bit closer against him, his gaze on you longing and warm, as if there was something he's always wanted to say to you.

"You know you're so beautiful?" Silence hung in the air again, but it didn't feel awkward. The silence with him never felt awkward or tense, you realized. Something felt different this time. You kept his gaze and let the music in the background cover you in the moment and space that seemed to exist only between you and James.

"What are you thinking, Bucky?" "Do you want an honest answer?" You nodded. "Promise you won't get weird?" "As long as it isn't weird...I promise." You vowed, smiling as you expected a ridiculous answer that might make you laugh. "I'm thinking...how much I wish my eyes could look at your face and focus on every part of it all at once." "What?" You chuckled as you asked, and then realized he was serious as he simply smiled on one corner of his lips, his gaze still fixed on you. He whispered your name as he pulled you in closer, your forehead almost touching with his.

"Can I kiss you?" You drew your breath in and felt a wave of heat rushing into your cheek. You didn't want to say no, but you didn't know how to say yes. The next thing you knew, you felt his soft lips on yours. The kisses were as slow as your dancing, as tender as the way he held you, and as warm as the smile he always showed you. It felt as if...everything suddenly made sense.

As you paused to take a breath, you smiled at each other, then you laughed softly as you noticed his usually pink lips were now plum-colored. "You have my lipstick on your lips." "Want me to put it back on yours?" You laughed again and kissed some more. When the kiss was finally over, you rested your cheek against his, your thoughts slowly pulling your gaze away from what you were looking at.

"Bucky?" "Yeah?" "Do you regret anything?" He didn't answer right away but pulled his head back to face you and looked at you intently, now cupping the side of your neck. "No. Do you?" It took you a while to ponder the answer to your question. "Yes..." "What is it?" He asked as his hand cupped your cheek now. You thought of it lots of times. It's not the baby's fault that you got pregnant. But apart from the heartache and betrayal that Steve left you with, he also left you something heavier.

"I regret ever having sex with Steve." "Hey...doll. Look...I get it. He's bad in bed," he joked, then gazed at you with concern. "Look...He's a douche for not wearing a rubber. For not thinking of you first." He sighed and shook his head. "I may have a regret of my own." "What?" "Not asking you out before he did," He confessed. You snorted in disbelief. "Shut up...you're not saying..." "You know what I'm saying, dollface." He paused. "Now, before your mind wanders to a million things, can we go back to dancing, please? Ella Fitzgerald ain't singin' here to have you talk about regrets or bad sex." You chuckled together and slowly danced again. More people filled the bar as midnight drew near.

You danced your hearts out until you felt thirsty, and only took short water breaks and quick bites, before going back to the dance floor to make the most out of it. You were tired, but you didn't want the night to end until it had to. The live band once again played a slow song with Ella Fitzgerald on the microphone. James took the chance to slow dance with you again. As he noticed that some clubgoers started leaving, he knew it was getting late and the bar was probably already closing soon. Slow dancing with him felt like something you're already used to at this point and you no longer felt awkward having him this close to you. Pulling you away from your thoughts, he called your name.

"Hmm?"

"Can I hold you like this a little bit longer?" His voice was soft and a little bit cautious, but you felt the warmth coming from his touch. You nodded softly and then closed your eyes and rested your head on his shoulder, savoring the moment as the evening melted away like a distant dream.

***

Another week later, James was still in no luck at finding a new job anywhere. Meanwhile, the atmosphere at the telephone company also changed for you. Brock Rumlow hadn't changed his behavior towards you, although he stopped insisting on inviting you to lunch. But you could always feel the way he stole glances from you or when he passed by your desk. You knew he wasn't hiding that he coveted you despite being a young, married woman. Not to mention a pregnant one at that. To make matters worse, he called you to his office one day and had one of the worst conversations you've ever had to be in.

"I know that you don't love your husband, Mrs. Barnes. I know about the whole setup between your families. Whose father that baby you're carrying is and why he is not your Mr. Barnes," He stated, not minding any professional boundary or even an ounce of respect for your personal life. You pulled your chin up to remain steadfast despite any violent urge surging in your hands.

"I can take care of you, sweetheart. I know your financial situation. Your husband isn't going to make it in this city. And you shouldn't have to work. But I can make it all go away. All those problems...the uncertainty of the future..." he makes a gesture of his fingers pressed together and spreading outward, mimicking an object disappear. "....go away. All you have to do, of course, is divorce your husband." You raised an eyebrow at his appalling, indecent proposal.

"Of course, he will be taken care of. His family too. And he will be sent back to school, where he belongs. I'm sure your parents won't have a problem with who your groom is as long as he can provide for you."

"Wow," you scoffed. "I've had it with your advances, Mr. Rumlow. Urging me to divorce my husband so you could step into my life is where I draw the line. My husband was right about you. You men with power. You think you hold the world in your hand and you can buy off anyone with your money."

"What I'm offering you is help, Mrs. Barnes. This is your only way out." He stood up and walked around his desk toward you until he's standing behind your seat, closing the space between you two, making your heart beat loudly against your chest. You were frozen down to your toes as your breath picked up. The hair on your back standing as you felt his hands on your shoulders. "Look, I am a problem-solver. I see a problem, and I immediately think of a solution," he stated nonchalantly as he massaged your shoulders. You couldn't take his hands on you anymore so you stood up all of a sudden and faced him, red painted all over your face, your nostrils fuming with anger and humiliation combined.

"Call it what you want, asshole. I'm not divorcing my husband." You took a step to leave, but he blocked your way and in a quick motion, pushed you back against his desk, trapping you between his hands as he keeps his face close to yours, you could smell his scent - cigarette, and a smell of alcohol you couldn't point out, both bringing up bile from your stomach, but you tried to ignore that and focused on the danger you felt was closing in. You spotted a letter opener from the edge of the desk earlier and managed to grab it the moment he pinned you to the desk.

"I always get what I want, Ms. Barnes. And you are just making it difficult for you and your husband by resisting me like this." You felt every ounce of disgust and discomfort, but more than that, you feared he was pushing against your boundaries further and taking what isn't his. You've had enough abuse, disrespect, and mistreatment from the men in your life. First your father, then Steve. Then now, your boss. You've stayed silent long enough. You've obeyed others long enough. And this man wasn't to be obeyed, believed, or followed. You clenched on that letter opener and pointed it on the side of his stomach just below his rib.

"I don't care what you know about me and my family or my marriage with James, but if you don't let me go right now, I will stab you with this dagger. My knee is just below your balls and I won't hesitate to kick you where it truly hurts, Mr. Rumlow ." You emphasized his name to give him the last amount of respect you were going to show him. He huffed in surprise and pulls away, rubbing his bearded chin as he walked back around his desk, still standing behind it.

"I'll give my notice to Mr. Fury." You dropped the letter opener back to his desk and mustered all your strength to walk out of his office as quickly as you could, fearing he would suddenly grab you or lock the door. But he didn't, and you got out safely and headed to the nearest bathroom to breathe and cry and get yourself together. As soon as you calmed down, you washed your face and went back to your desk to compose your final notice on the typewriter. Before the day ended, you handed your notice to Mr. Fury and told him of the incident in Mr. Rumlow's office, making it reasonable for you to quit effective immediately.

When you got home, you showered to wash off the intense interaction between you and Rumlow. Losing the job wasn't even the worst part of it. It was becoming harder to live and become part of the world you were in. You rubbed your stomach as you let the water rinse your head and hopefully your thoughts. It was right that you quit. You couldn't be in any more stressful, or worse, frightening situations. It wasn't good for the baby, you thought. When you finished showering, you curled up in bed in your robe and didn't even bother drying your hair anymore. The traumatizing day made you feel more tired than you already were, and you fell asleep. James came home and found you sleeping on his side of the bed. He didn't bother turning the lights on, allowing the city lights to illuminate the room through the window. He wondered if you've eaten since you got home as he noticed you didn't follow your usual routine. He stepped into the room and knelt beside the bed. He whispered to wake you up, gently brushing your hair away from your face. As you opened your eyes and saw him, you furrowed your eyebrows, confused and disoriented from your slumber.

"Hey, sleepyhead...Slept well?" He asked softly, his blue eyes fixed on you. You pulled yourself up and sat on the bed, then pulled him in for a hug as tears suddenly streamed down your eyes. "Hey...what's wrong, babydoll?" The nickname made your heart stop for a little bit, but all the crying in the office bathroom wasn't enough and you couldn't contain every emotion in your heart any longer. "I've never seen you cry like this before." His voice remained soft as he rubbed over your back in the hug. "Come here."

You hummed in question and before you knew it, he has his hands under your knees and one arm on your back, carrying you bridal style for a moment so he could sit on the corner of the bed and sat you on his lap, carefully pulling down the hem of your robe to cover your legs and thighs, as if to protect you from being exposed. Then he looked at you with concern, his eyes studying every small detail of your damp face as he gently wiped your tears as they come. "What happened, babydoll? Talk to me." He insisted, but his tone was gentle. With a little bit of hesitation, you told him everything that transpired that day, certain details in your story making him clench his jaw and hold you tighter in his lap.

For some reason, it felt safer and easier to tell him everything in the dark. Despite the noise of the city outside, being in his arms that moment felt like nothing else existed. He rubbed over your back as he listened to you, his gaze fixed on the floor as he was probably imagining what happened as you told him the story. When you ended the story with you quitting your job, he finally looked at you again, his deep, blue eyes containing so much thought, you wished you could hear the words.

"I hate that you had to endure all o'that. Wish I'd been there to protect you, babydoll," His words filled with simmering anger in his tone, only softened by the call of his new nickname for you. "But I'm proud of you. Standing up for yourself like that. And threatening a perverted old man with a fucking dagger?" You laughed together as you sniffled, wiping your tears and snot with the hem of your robe's sleeve. James continued keeping hair away from your face very gently as he gazed at you warmly and appreciatively.

"My brave fucking wife." "I told you I could handle myself." "I never doubted you could, darlin'." He smiled and fixed your robe, closing its cleavage as it began to open a little bit, and that's when you noticed his bruised hands. "Did you get into a fight?" You quickly grabbed his hand and observed his wounded knuckles, then cupped his jaw to look at his face in the light. You noticed he has been hiding it all this time.

"Bucky. What happened?" He hesitated, but put his hand over yours, still cupping his jaw. "I was ambushed just a couple blocks from 'ere. Rumlow's doing too." Worry drew across your face as you looked for more bruises in his body, or worse, a knife wound or anything like that.

"We should call the police. They can't do this to you." "But they already did. They warned me that they have the NYPD controlled. Like a fuckin' mafia, if you ask me." He shook his head. "No point in that, doll." Silence hung in the air as your mind raced, thinking about possible solutions or what your next step might be. But nothing came to mind.

"Looks like New York ain't safe for us anymore, Bucky." A sharp exhale escaping your breath at the realization. "I'm sorry. I feel like this is my fault. It's my fault we don't have jobs anymore. It's my fault we're here. That you're here, instead of living your life as you should be. Fuck, it's my fault you got beat up." You stated in a breaking voice as you cupped his jaw and noticed his face was nearly broken, but mostly bruised. He was probably holding in the pain as he didn't once let a grunt escape his lips. He held your wrist gently as he shook his head.

"Doll face," He said, calling your attention. "It wasn't your fault, ok? I let them beat me up. Figured they'd leave us alone if I let them think they beat me. Doesn't mean I let them go unscathed though." He pulled a satisfied smirk as his tongue drew a figure on the inside of his cheek. "Fucking bastards." Then he turned his attention to you.

"But hey...don't talk like that anymore, ok? None of this is your fault, babydoll. It's time you stopped blaming yourself for everything that's happened. I hate it when you do that." He held you closer on instinct as he wiped away the remnants of your tears across your cheeks. He gazed at you with warmth. Suddenly, you've become too aware that this is the first time you've sat on his lap. And the first time he's held you this close, too. Ever since the speakeasy, you noticed you've grown closer in more ways than one. At this realization, you suddenly noticed that the way he held you in his gaze right now was the same as when you were dancing that Friday night. It burned from his eyes, flowed from his gentle touches, and enveloped you whenever he held you close like this. His musky scent now more raw than all the times he took you dancing was pulling you in. You noticed that things have changed. At this moment, his presence alone fanned the embers inside you, waking an ache you once thought has numbed.

Before you knew it, you felt his warm, soft lips kissing yours, his light stubble brushing against your chin. You arms wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him in a little bit closer. Desire started pooling between your thighs as you shifted on his lap. It wasn't hard to notice the shift in his pants too, which made you pull away from the kiss for a moment. The both of you panting as you rested your forehead against his, his eyes gazing between your eyes and your lips.

"You ok, babydoll? I-I didn't mean to take adv-" You put a finger over his lips before he could finish his sentence. "You weren't." But you couldn't tell him that despite how well your relationship is with him, a certain thought was beginning to haunt you these past few days. The lines have started to blur. Until now, you were certain that your heart belonged to Steve. Somehow, you thought this was going to be a temporary setting. You had no idea where that came from. James wasn't a temporary replacement for Steve. Were you secretly hoping for Steve to come back and take you with him?

"I'm not expecting anything," he reassured you, as if he read on your face that you were worried he was expecting you to have sex with him, but god, did he hope you would let him kiss you again.

"Want me to stop?" You gently shook your head, earning a smile from his bruised, yet still handsome face. "Tell me what you want, babydoll. I need to hear it from you. I'm not about to do anything we didn't talk about first." You've never heard anyone say anything like that to you. It wasn't entirely romantic, but it took your breath away.

"Kiss me again, Bucky." He smiled again at your calling his name, and you wondered if he felt any pain on his face at all.

"I'll be gentle. I'll go only where you let me." He kissed you again, this time more softly and loving, his hand gently grabbing the roots of your hair above your nape, earning him a very soft moan from you. His lips kissed through your cheek, then your jaw, and then finally, your pulse point in your neck, making you hold him closer and pant even more. His hold felt different. His touch has always felt different. But you couldn't quite place what it was. A moan escaped your lips as he licked and suckled on your neck.

"Mm, knew you'd like that," he whispered teasingly as his hands caressed your body. "You have no idea how tempting you are to me right now, babydoll." He pulled away a little bit to look at you again, keeping his lips so close to yours.

"Promise, I'm not trying to tempt you." You chuckled together and exchanged more kisses for a while. He held you so close and when you let him kiss your neck, you felt like he was going to undress your robe with the way he was kissing and licking.

"Fuck, you don't even have to try, babydoll." His tongued-kisses felt sinful, and you could feel how much he's holding himself back. If you knew men, you knew they would take what they wanted when you let them. At least that's how Steve was. He never held back from his desires. But James, on the other hand, you could feel his desire from the way he touched you and kissed you that he was holding back. Instead of undressing you, he squeezed the robe on your back with one hand, and the spot on your thigh dangerously close to your butt with the other.

To assert his restraint, he gently redone the tie on your robe for you and gave you one long, final kiss on your lips before he pulling away, making the kissing finally end. For now.

It was his turn to take a shower and you took that time to heat some leftovers you had from the previous night. James went to the dining table to join you for dinner. You talked about some memories from school, the both of you thankful that none of those had Steve. It was never discussed, but Steve's name became taboo between the two of you.

You shared a large slice of apple pie you bought from the bakery down the street the day before as you discussed what to do next. You barely had any money saved yet and the money you received from your parents for getting married could only get you by, not far.

"So what, are we going back to Red House?" He asked, watching you process everything as you kept your eyes fixed on the plate. Then you looked at him, worry etched on your face. "I don't wanna go back to my parents. Or yours." Your voice breaking at the thought. He moved his chair to get closer to you and took your hand gently.

"Doll face," he said softly. "I'm sorry we got us in this jam." He tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. Then, as if he just had an idea, his eyes lit up. "I'll help you with the dishes, but first I gotta make a quick call." He rushed to the living room and grabbed the telephone receiver and then dialed a number.

"Who are you calling?" You said from the dining room. He was going to respond, but the other end of the line picked up. You wiped your hands on your apron and walked across the kitchen toward the hall and watched him make the phone call. Who could he have called at 8:30 PM that's so important?

"Ma?" He paused. "I...I messed up Ma. Can we stay at Gramma's?"

To be continued in

Chapter Eight - The Buchanan House

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seashellrosekitty · 1 month ago