You know, you're really taking the shine off the whole 'jaunting across the stars' thing. [ Bucky's nose wrinkles, amused and barely serious. ] In general— Was space full of wonder or full of nightmares or kinda both?
[ If this movie is anything to be believed, it's both. He still wonders what it's like out there, too. Never got the chance to leave the planet like some of the other superheroes had. ]
[ She grins at his comment, her heart feeling lighter for his presence and good humor. This evening would have been very different if she'd just gone straight back to her own apartment alone. ]
Kinda both, just like here. [ Glancing over at him, her smile softens. ] But the wonder is pretty damn great.
Are you asking me to arrange a field trip, Sergeant Barnes? [ Her eyebrows raise for full teasing effect, but then she laughs. He really is adorable. ] Because I could probably do that. We could go visit Fury's super-secret space station.
[ Bucky jolts, now fully distracted from the film as he props himself up on his elbow and swivels, the better to turn and stare at her. Half-laughing: ]
Wait, you— look, you can't just keep offhand dropping shit like "Fury's super-secret space station". Of course I want to go visit a super-secret space station, what the hell. This better not be a joke, because I am entirely down for a field trip.
[ A beat, a small ripple in his easy demeanour like an accidental skip in the record. ]
As long as he, uh. Doesn't hold any grudges about the whole "trying to assassinate him" thing.
[ Daisy had maintained that SHIELD didn't have anything against him despite all the ruin left in his wake, but Bucky still suspected some agents were more wary of him than she was — and then, Fury hadn't just been accidental collateral damage either. He'd been a specific target. The director may have faked his death, but the two sniper rounds through the wall and into his chest had been real. ]
[ Oh no, he's being adorable again. Her heart aches in that exquisitely painful way that makes her want to do something supremely stupid that neither of them is ready for, so she pushes those pesky feelings aside as best she can and focuses instead on reassuring him. It is a totally valid concern, and she can guess at how much these things bother him — a whole lot more than he ever shows. ]
I mean, he may not want to have brunch with you, but he's also just not much of a Brunch Guy in general. [ But this deserves more than just a flippant joke, so she lets the humor fade away for the next part. ] If Coulson and I vouch for you, it'll be fine.
[ But she can't just leave it at that, so her tone perks up again as she informs him: ] So before our field trip, you'll just have to meet my dad. Easy.
Oh, is that how it is? We're at the meeting-your-parents stage?
[ His voice is already warm, but before she can panic or think she overstepped, he adds, ]
I'd love to. Like I said, I've only heard good things.
[ Those bloodstained trading cards in Steve's hands. They'd left an impression. He'd told Bucky about it during those long months on the run, when he'd been filling his friend in on everything he'd missed, on the origins of the Avengers and that initial battle which had brought them all together. Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea, in heroes. Well, it's an old-fashioned notion. ]
[ Phil Coulson believes in people. Period. And if he believes in you, until you give him a reason not to, he will stand in your corner and cheer you on through every hardship. He's already made it clear to Daisy that Bucky is counted in that circle now. (He's made a few other things about Bucky pretty clear too, reading between the lines of how Daisy talks about the reluctant hero, though she's not about to share that part with Bucky himself.) ]
You know, you're racking up quite the social calendar, Sergeant Barnes. [ Oh yes, the teasing is back. ] Meeting my best friends, meeting my dad, movie nights and a field trip... I don't know how you'll fit in your weekly Saving of the World.
If by "racking up a social calendar", you mean "cribbing from yours". [ It was a thing he was faintly self-conscious about. It paled in comparison to all the far more visceral guilt he carried around, but it was still there like a small but annoying pebble in his shoe: the awareness that he'd been trailing along on Steve's coattails, then Sam's, and now Daisy's. The only friend he'd picked up on his own initiative and in his own time had been Yori — which meant a disaster, a ticking time bomb, before that inevitably imploded. ]
How do people even make friends these days? Like, genuine question. I can barely remember how I did it before the army, and the world's such a different place compared to the '30s anyway.
[ It's something she's thought about a lot over the last few years, whenever the loneliness set in and she just wanted someone to have a damn cup of coffee with who didn't expect her to be anything but herself. Someone who knew how much of a mess she was and didn't judge her for it.
She watches the TV without really seeing the movie, only vaguely paying attention to the comedic dialogue between the characters. ]
I think hobbies might be a thing people bond over? [ Not that she has a lot of those either... ]
I took art classes with Steve, once upon a time, but I mostly did it 'cause the models were pretty. He was the artist between us. I did used to box a lot at the YMCA, though— maybe I gotta find a local gym...
[ He's never really gotten the chance to ponder this question aloud with someone before, although it's been haunting him for a while, so it's oddly nice to have someone to brainstorm with. How to exist as a person outside of work, outside of duty? ]
[ Because the models were pretty. Oh, the shit she's going to give him for that later. What a typical guy reason for doing something. ]
A gym could be nice. There are a few in the city that are openly welcome to those of us on the enhanced spectrum. [ It's become a thing in the past decade, ever since heroes and vigilantes became known entities who were splashed across social media and news outlets. Some of the businesses wanted the publicity, others just wanted to support the people helping protect their city. ] I can get you some names, if you're interested.
Seriously? Yeah, that would be great. The main reason I've never really signed up anywhere— [ or at least one of the reasons, ] is 'cause I didn't want to, y'know, walk in and then commit grievous property damage. Steve broke more than a few punching bags. I didn't know businesses had branched out these days.
It sounds nicer than freaks of nature or abominations, which are some of the less clever names people use for us.
[ Especially Inhumans. Somehow, Captain America got a pass but the genetically different were despised and hunted. Those first few years after the world found out about them were pretty bad... and now there's hardly any of them left. But that's too heavy a subject for now. ]
And, you know, you're always welcome to use SHIELD's gym if you want to really let loose. We don't mind if you break something, it gives the science team a new problem to solve on how to keep our equipment durable and functional.
[ He shouldn't be surprised that people say such bigoted shit about people like Daisy with her powers, and yet it's a bitter pill anyway, learning that. Weirdly enough, he's actually managed to be pretty removed from that whole side, since he doesn't know that many people with ingrained abilities. Wanda, maybe. He opens his mouth, almost says something, but then bites down on it. Bucky's mouth purses, but he follows her usual tack and asks a question just out of curiosity instead. ]
I don't think I ever asked— are there any other 'enhanced' operatives in SHIELD? Or is it just you?
There are others. Mack's wife, Yo-Yo, is an Inhuman, and my sister is too. She joined up a few years ago. Some of the satellite offices have people with abilities, and we've got a few other LMDs like Coulson.
[ Another yawn overtakes her and she lifts a bruised hand to cover her mouth. She's starting to feel the effects of the medication, the pain in her arms beginning to lessen and everything feeling a little fuzzy around the edges. It's a good feeling, certainly a hell of a lot better than the constant throbbing ache from before. ]
When Bucky glances back at the screen, distracted, he realises he's completely lost track of what's happening in the movie. But that's fine; he'd already assumed that's where they would wind up, and that they can just restart it next time when they're not both hopped up on painkillers. ]
You can rest up if you need to. Don't worry about it.
[ Gentle permission to close her eyes, to doze off, to not have to fight for wakefulness any longer. ]
[ As soon as she has 'permission', her body begins to feel heavy and her eyes just don't want to stay open. She blinks a few times, trying to fight it, but then she remembers who is laying next to her. Bucky. A man she trusts and feels safe with, who won't judge her for this moment of physical weakness. So she gives in, closing her eyes and snuggling into the cushions a little more. ]
Jus' for a little while... [ The murmur is soft and slightly slurred; she's already drifting off into the blissful sleep of exhaustion. ]
[ A wan smile flickers across his face as he looks down at her. As she drifts off, he settles down even lower against the pillows and turns the volume lower on the TV: not fully silent, but enough that the music and voices drown into a low soporific hum. He usually falls asleep with it on, anyway.
His metabolism's still strong enough that it takes a while before the side-effects finally kick in. It comes on slowly: he's half-paying attention to the movie, still awake but drowsing, but that sleepiness keeps gnawing at the edges of his focus, nipping and dragging him down. In the end, it's a relief to just close his eyes and let go.
Normally Bucky is a terrible sleeper. He's only relatively recently gotten used to the softness of an actual mattress again, and he's usually awake and sweating in the middle of the night, tangled in his sheets. This time, though, the meds and the pain and the exhaustion just knocks him right out. At some point, the radiators come on with a noisy clang and he does wake up then — but just enough to blink blearily across the room, realise the woman beside him is still asleep, breathing deeply, and he reaches for the throw blanket from the bottom of the bed and drapes it over her. They've both just fallen asleep on top of the sheets, but his body runs hot enough that he's a human radiator himself, blazing with warmth.
And then that exhaustion comes in like a boulder and Bucky rolls over, buries his face in the pillow, and passes out again.
By morning — dawn light starting to spill through the windows, he doesn't even have curtains — they've somehow managed to burrow into the bed enough that he's wedged up against her, a leg entangled with hers, Daisy's head against the crook of his bare shoulder, close to the slow rise-and-fall of his breathing. ]
[ Daisy never sleeps well. A light sleeper, she's either constantly woken by some noise or another, jolting awake and ready to defend herself in an instant, or she's gasping from one of the wide assortment of nightmares that rotate through. Failing to save the world, loved ones dying, being tortured... It's always a great start to the day.
But not this day. As sunlight tumbles through the curtainless window, she takes the slow route to wakefulness — one she hasn't taken in a long time. For the first time in who knows how long, she feels warm and safe and rested, though her mind is still more than a little fuzzy from the pain meds. Maybe that's why she doesn't notice at first, her aches still cushioned by the pills and that feeling of safety wrapping her up like a blanket.
Speaking of: when did she get a blanket?
Giving a quiet almost groaning sigh, she shifts slightly, moving just a little closer to the warm body she's been using as a pillow. And then she goes still, wondering if he's awake yet and if he's noticed... this. She can feel it now, his heartbeat and breathing, the closeness of his warmth sinking into her tired, broken bones. And their legs. How exactly had that managed that one?
Slowly rising further into wakefulness, she stays quiet with her eyes still closed, not ready to let go of his warmth and closeness just yet. This moment won't last forever and she wants to savor it for as long as she can. And when she senses him waking, quietly, still drifting in the half-awake moment, she offers: ]
[ He wakes up after Daisy, but just barely: it was that shift, the unaccustomed sensation of someone else in his bed, her squirming closer. And he remembers just enough of tucking her in that he doesn't jolt at the presence, doesn't immediately try to untangle himself and then panickedly yeet himself out of the bed. He cracks open an eye instead and squints at her in the morning light. ]
Yeah, uh, no problem.
[ This should probably feel more awkward than it does, right? This is the first time anyone is waking up in Bucky Barnes' bed in... jesus, some eighty years. It's an inconceivable stretch of time. But somehow it doesn't feel strange or uncomfortable: he's just drowsy, and maybe thinking about how he needs to catapult himself into the bathroom to spare her the morning breath, but just— having her here is nice. Having the company is nice.
Not having the nightmares for once. Is nice. ]
I didn't really want to kick you out into the cold at 2am.
[ He shifts slightly — his right arm is half-asleep under Daisy's weight, so he readjusts, moves it a little higher so it's more slung over the pillows and her shoulders rather than trapped beneath her. Absolutely nothing happened between them, but he's hopelessly aware of how close she is now, and how normally waking up with someone else means an entirely different context than just dozing off on painkillers.
[ It's weird to be so calm about waking up like this. Or rather, it's weird that she doesn't feel weird about it at all. Because that is weird, right? Usually, people spring apart in situations like this, mumbling awkwardly and refusing to look at each other. But nothing about this feels worthy of that sort of reaction.
Maybe it's that she already feels so close with Bucky, like they're soldiers who have actually been in the trenches together rather than near-strangers who are still just getting to know each other. And really, that's what this sort of life does to a person. Whoever you were before, you instantly become connected to the people who have been through similar experiences, even if you never talk about them.
Those are the thoughts that tumble through Daisy's mind as she finally emerges that last little bit through the clinging haze of sleep. It's rare that she gets to wake up like this: slowly, without the panic of a nightmare or rush of a sudden mission. It's nice. She wishes she could wake up like this more often. ]
Surprisingly, yeah.
[ Shifting back just enough so she's not laying quite so much on as him next to him, she blinks at him with still sleepy eyes. She can still feel the warmth radiating off of him, and their legs are still tucked together like puzzle pieces, but she can't bring herself to feel anything but comfortable and content. ]
[ Maybe he shouldn't have let that admission slip out, but— they both know that they both suffer nightmares and that they don't sleep well. They've already talked about it. It's not especially a surprise.
His dog tags are strangling him a little with the angle he's wedged against the pillows, so Bucky fishes them out, tugs them loose so they're back to their customary spot on his chest rather than wound tight around his neck. And then he lets his head fall back against the pillows, looking up at the ceiling so he's not staring right at Daisy's face from a few inches away, looming too-close. They're going about this all backwards, but in a way — he ponders — maybe falling asleep together doesn't have to be a big deal. It's just that human companionship, that soothing presence. Like a comfort blanket or a stuffed animal.
Buck, do not tell the cute girl that she's like a stuffed animal.
Instead, he takes a stab at trying to explain it, which backfires almost immediately but then he desperately tries to course-correct a second later. ]
I think I've missed sleeping with— I mean, not like that— I've missed falling asleep with someone else in the room. The army, or a full house when I was a kid. Hasn't been like that in a while.
[ Her eyes follow his hand as he moves the dog tags, her gaze lingering on those raised letters as he settles again. The question lingers on her tongue, begging to be asked, but she's not sure it's the right time. Besides, she can guess well enough at the answer, so does she really need to hear him say it?
There's no stopping the amused grin as he stumbles over his own words, and the smile stays firmly in place as she responds. ]
I know what you mean. It's been weird living on my own. I used to live on the Zephyr with my team, and before that, I was on base. I could recognize the way everyone felt and it was... It's different now that I'm in a building full of strangers, even if they are all SHIELD agents.
[ The only time she feels anything close to the level of comfort she's had over the last few hours with Bucky has been when her sister or Coulson has stayed with her, and those visits are always far too short. ]
A building full of SHIELD agents? [ He shoots her a sidelong look, sneaking a glance. For a moment he's not sure if she's talking about her home or her workplace; but granted, those lines are pretty blurred anyway. ] So, wait, is that a setup like— company housing or something? SHIELD owns the whole building and rents it out to its employees?
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[ If this movie is anything to be believed, it's both. He still wonders what it's like out there, too. Never got the chance to leave the planet like some of the other superheroes had. ]
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Kinda both, just like here. [ Glancing over at him, her smile softens. ] But the wonder is pretty damn great.
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Wait, you— look, you can't just keep offhand dropping shit like "Fury's super-secret space station". Of course I want to go visit a super-secret space station, what the hell. This better not be a joke, because I am entirely down for a field trip.
[ A beat, a small ripple in his easy demeanour like an accidental skip in the record. ]
As long as he, uh. Doesn't hold any grudges about the whole "trying to assassinate him" thing.
[ Daisy had maintained that SHIELD didn't have anything against him despite all the ruin left in his wake, but Bucky still suspected some agents were more wary of him than she was — and then, Fury hadn't just been accidental collateral damage either. He'd been a specific target. The director may have faked his death, but the two sniper rounds through the wall and into his chest had been real. ]
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I mean, he may not want to have brunch with you, but he's also just not much of a Brunch Guy in general. [ But this deserves more than just a flippant joke, so she lets the humor fade away for the next part. ] If Coulson and I vouch for you, it'll be fine.
[ But she can't just leave it at that, so her tone perks up again as she informs him: ] So before our field trip, you'll just have to meet my dad. Easy.
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[ His voice is already warm, but before she can panic or think she overstepped, he adds, ]
I'd love to. Like I said, I've only heard good things.
[ Those bloodstained trading cards in Steve's hands. They'd left an impression. He'd told Bucky about it during those long months on the run, when he'd been filling his friend in on everything he'd missed, on the origins of the Avengers and that initial battle which had brought them all together. Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea, in heroes. Well, it's an old-fashioned notion. ]
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[ Phil Coulson believes in people. Period. And if he believes in you, until you give him a reason not to, he will stand in your corner and cheer you on through every hardship. He's already made it clear to Daisy that Bucky is counted in that circle now. (He's made a few other things about Bucky pretty clear too, reading between the lines of how Daisy talks about the reluctant hero, though she's not about to share that part with Bucky himself.) ]
You know, you're racking up quite the social calendar, Sergeant Barnes. [ Oh yes, the teasing is back. ] Meeting my best friends, meeting my dad, movie nights and a field trip... I don't know how you'll fit in your weekly Saving of the World.
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How do people even make friends these days? Like, genuine question. I can barely remember how I did it before the army, and the world's such a different place compared to the '30s anyway.
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[ It's something she's thought about a lot over the last few years, whenever the loneliness set in and she just wanted someone to have a damn cup of coffee with who didn't expect her to be anything but herself. Someone who knew how much of a mess she was and didn't judge her for it.
She watches the TV without really seeing the movie, only vaguely paying attention to the comedic dialogue between the characters. ]
I think hobbies might be a thing people bond over? [ Not that she has a lot of those either... ]
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[ An accidental echo of her own thoughts. ]
I took art classes with Steve, once upon a time, but I mostly did it 'cause the models were pretty. He was the artist between us. I did used to box a lot at the YMCA, though— maybe I gotta find a local gym...
[ He's never really gotten the chance to ponder this question aloud with someone before, although it's been haunting him for a while, so it's oddly nice to have someone to brainstorm with. How to exist as a person outside of work, outside of duty? ]
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A gym could be nice. There are a few in the city that are openly welcome to those of us on the enhanced spectrum. [ It's become a thing in the past decade, ever since heroes and vigilantes became known entities who were splashed across social media and news outlets. Some of the businesses wanted the publicity, others just wanted to support the people helping protect their city. ] I can get you some names, if you're interested.
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[ Bucky snorts, though, at the phrasing. ]
'Enhanced spectrum'. Nice way of putting it.
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[ Especially Inhumans. Somehow, Captain America got a pass but the genetically different were despised and hunted. Those first few years after the world found out about them were pretty bad... and now there's hardly any of them left. But that's too heavy a subject for now. ]
And, you know, you're always welcome to use SHIELD's gym if you want to really let loose. We don't mind if you break something, it gives the science team a new problem to solve on how to keep our equipment durable and functional.
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I don't think I ever asked— are there any other 'enhanced' operatives in SHIELD? Or is it just you?
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[ Another yawn overtakes her and she lifts a bruised hand to cover her mouth. She's starting to feel the effects of the medication, the pain in her arms beginning to lessen and everything feeling a little fuzzy around the edges. It's a good feeling, certainly a hell of a lot better than the constant throbbing ache from before. ]
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When Bucky glances back at the screen, distracted, he realises he's completely lost track of what's happening in the movie. But that's fine; he'd already assumed that's where they would wind up, and that they can just restart it next time when they're not both hopped up on painkillers. ]
You can rest up if you need to. Don't worry about it.
[ Gentle permission to close her eyes, to doze off, to not have to fight for wakefulness any longer. ]
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Jus' for a little while... [ The murmur is soft and slightly slurred; she's already drifting off into the blissful sleep of exhaustion. ]
no regrets
His metabolism's still strong enough that it takes a while before the side-effects finally kick in. It comes on slowly: he's half-paying attention to the movie, still awake but drowsing, but that sleepiness keeps gnawing at the edges of his focus, nipping and dragging him down. In the end, it's a relief to just close his eyes and let go.
Normally Bucky is a terrible sleeper. He's only relatively recently gotten used to the softness of an actual mattress again, and he's usually awake and sweating in the middle of the night, tangled in his sheets. This time, though, the meds and the pain and the exhaustion just knocks him right out. At some point, the radiators come on with a noisy clang and he does wake up then — but just enough to blink blearily across the room, realise the woman beside him is still asleep, breathing deeply, and he reaches for the throw blanket from the bottom of the bed and drapes it over her. They've both just fallen asleep on top of the sheets, but his body runs hot enough that he's a human radiator himself, blazing with warmth.
And then that exhaustion comes in like a boulder and Bucky rolls over, buries his face in the pillow, and passes out again.
By morning — dawn light starting to spill through the windows, he doesn't even have curtains — they've somehow managed to burrow into the bed enough that he's wedged up against her, a leg entangled with hers, Daisy's head against the crook of his bare shoulder, close to the slow rise-and-fall of his breathing. ]
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But not this day. As sunlight tumbles through the curtainless window, she takes the slow route to wakefulness — one she hasn't taken in a long time. For the first time in who knows how long, she feels warm and safe and rested, though her mind is still more than a little fuzzy from the pain meds. Maybe that's why she doesn't notice at first, her aches still cushioned by the pills and that feeling of safety wrapping her up like a blanket.
Speaking of: when did she get a blanket?
Giving a quiet almost groaning sigh, she shifts slightly, moving just a little closer to the warm body she's been using as a pillow. And then she goes still, wondering if he's awake yet and if he's noticed... this. She can feel it now, his heartbeat and breathing, the closeness of his warmth sinking into her tired, broken bones. And their legs. How exactly had that managed that one?
Slowly rising further into wakefulness, she stays quiet with her eyes still closed, not ready to let go of his warmth and closeness just yet. This moment won't last forever and she wants to savor it for as long as she can. And when she senses him waking, quietly, still drifting in the half-awake moment, she offers: ]
Thanks for the blanket.
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Yeah, uh, no problem.
[ This should probably feel more awkward than it does, right? This is the first time anyone is waking up in Bucky Barnes' bed in... jesus, some eighty years. It's an inconceivable stretch of time. But somehow it doesn't feel strange or uncomfortable: he's just drowsy, and maybe thinking about how he needs to catapult himself into the bathroom to spare her the morning breath, but just— having her here is nice. Having the company is nice.
Not having the nightmares for once. Is nice. ]
I didn't really want to kick you out into the cold at 2am.
[ He shifts slightly — his right arm is half-asleep under Daisy's weight, so he readjusts, moves it a little higher so it's more slung over the pillows and her shoulders rather than trapped beneath her. Absolutely nothing happened between them, but he's hopelessly aware of how close she is now, and how normally waking up with someone else means an entirely different context than just dozing off on painkillers.
And yet. It still doesn't feel strange. ]
You sleep okay?
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Maybe it's that she already feels so close with Bucky, like they're soldiers who have actually been in the trenches together rather than near-strangers who are still just getting to know each other. And really, that's what this sort of life does to a person. Whoever you were before, you instantly become connected to the people who have been through similar experiences, even if you never talk about them.
Those are the thoughts that tumble through Daisy's mind as she finally emerges that last little bit through the clinging haze of sleep. It's rare that she gets to wake up like this: slowly, without the panic of a nightmare or rush of a sudden mission. It's nice. She wishes she could wake up like this more often. ]
Surprisingly, yeah.
[ Shifting back just enough so she's not laying quite so much on as him next to him, she blinks at him with still sleepy eyes. She can still feel the warmth radiating off of him, and their legs are still tucked together like puzzle pieces, but she can't bring herself to feel anything but comfortable and content. ]
What about you?
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[ Maybe he shouldn't have let that admission slip out, but— they both know that they both suffer nightmares and that they don't sleep well. They've already talked about it. It's not especially a surprise.
His dog tags are strangling him a little with the angle he's wedged against the pillows, so Bucky fishes them out, tugs them loose so they're back to their customary spot on his chest rather than wound tight around his neck. And then he lets his head fall back against the pillows, looking up at the ceiling so he's not staring right at Daisy's face from a few inches away, looming too-close. They're going about this all backwards, but in a way — he ponders — maybe falling asleep together doesn't have to be a big deal. It's just that human companionship, that soothing presence. Like a comfort blanket or a stuffed animal.
Buck, do not tell the cute girl that she's like a stuffed animal.
Instead, he takes a stab at trying to explain it, which backfires almost immediately but then he desperately tries to course-correct a second later. ]
I think I've missed sleeping with— I mean, not like that— I've missed falling asleep with someone else in the room. The army, or a full house when I was a kid. Hasn't been like that in a while.
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There's no stopping the amused grin as he stumbles over his own words, and the smile stays firmly in place as she responds. ]
I know what you mean. It's been weird living on my own. I used to live on the Zephyr with my team, and before that, I was on base. I could recognize the way everyone felt and it was... It's different now that I'm in a building full of strangers, even if they are all SHIELD agents.
[ The only time she feels anything close to the level of comfort she's had over the last few hours with Bucky has been when her sister or Coulson has stayed with her, and those visits are always far too short. ]
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yrs to wrap?
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