[ It's rare for Daisy to be certain about something in her personal life. When it comes to her work, she's steady and confident, sure of where she stands and what she's capable of. With relationships, it's... harder. Friends, pseudo-parents, significant others, there's almost always some fear and doubt weighing on her in the early months, and sometimes even after years have passed. But with Bucky, for right now, she feels like she's on solid ground. She knows her own emotions and she has a pretty good idea of his. So no, this might not last, but she's at least able to savor this moment of just being with him and knowing she can finally show her affection the way she's been wanting to for months.
It's a nice kiss, not hurried or pushing for too much. She feels like each touch between them is a conversation rather than a demand for more. Leaning in to meet him feels comfortable and without expectation, and being able to reach up and gently frame his face with her hands feels like a gift. When she pulls back to catch her breath, she stays close, stroking her thumbs across the beard he keeps so neatly trimmed. ]
You're a good kisser. Can't read that in the history books. [ She's teasing, of course, her voice warm with affection. ]
Oh, jesus. Could you imagine if it was in the books? Talk about awkward.
[ Bucky ducks his face into her touch; he often seems to react like a cat, skittish about touch but then he leans into it for more once it’s there. After a moment, paring back some of his own vulnerability and honesty, he adds: ]
I’m rusty, so it’s kind of a miracle if I pulled that off. You can probably guess, but like, I haven’t done this in a while. A relationship. Not since, literally, World War II. So if I get anything wrong— because things have changed since the last time I knew how to do this, or because things haven’t changed but it’s been long enough for me— so if I fuck up— I’m just saying, please feel free to tell me. And if I’m… off, it’s not you, it’s… that.
[ A beat, and then one more card on the table: ] I kind of hadn’t really thought I’d ever get to this place again with anyone. So. Bear with me.
[ Every time she touches him, Daisy watches for some sign that Bucky isn't okay with it. For all that she knows of his past, there's so much she doesn't know about how that trauma has affected him; she can only guess at where the minefields lay. It's a relief whenever he allows it, even more so when he encourages it.
She drops her hands to his shoulders as he speaks, then slowly to his chest so she can better feel his heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Comforting. It doesn't take long at all for her to decide where this conversation needs to go. ]
We both have a lot of shit we're dealing with — the cards are kind of stacked against us in that regard. But if we both do the work to just talk to each other... We can maybe have a chance at making this work. So that goes both ways: If I say something, do something, or if I don't when I need to, then you tell me. Deal?
[ It’s surprisingly hard. It’s so fucking hard to verbalise what he wants and needs when he isn’t even certain of it himself; when, starting with the war, he’d already grown used to burying it six feet deep and simply smiling over it; and in all the decades since, he hasn’t been allowed to have an opinion. A preference. To explore what he wants. To even attempt a relationship with another person. He hadn’t existed for anyone except his masters for so long, and now that those strings have been cut, he’s trying to remember what it feels like to try.
So Bucky takes a deep, rattling breath, but then he nods. ]
[ Smiling with genuine happiness, she moves her hands to his against her thighs, loving every damn second of being able to touch him like this. To be close and know that it's okay now. She'll still always look for signs of it being too much, but now there's the hope of there being times when it's not enough. (She's looking forward to the latter.) ]
So, birthday boy. What do you want to do now? It's not that late, we could watch a movie or I could show you how to use your new toy. Or if you're hungry, we could get something that's not just alcohol and sugar — though, we are adults, so that is a perfectly acceptable dinner.
[ Is she still grinning like an idiot? Absolutely. Does she care? Not one bit. This is a feeling she could really get used to. ]
[ All of those options sound wonderful. Bucky considers it, weighing each of them in his mind, but there’s an irrepressible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It’s hard to bite it back whenever he’s around her: the warmth and light and kindness that Daisy just radiates, constantly, all the time, just by her very presence. ]
Can I say “all of the above”? Because, like, how about we order in some takeout, you show me how to use this doo-dad, [ did he really just say the words doo-dad, ] and then we can watch a movie with dinner.
Which kind of sounds like a perfect, chill night. Like, I couldn’t have asked for any better for my birthday. Thank you.
[ Steve, maybe. He misses Steve. But in lieu of that, Daisy’s still managing to help patch up those wounds. ]
[ It's strange to feel this happy. So much of Daisy's life has been full of pain and loss that if she stops to think about this warmth of emotion, it'll feel like some sort of surreal dream. Though, her dreams usually lean toward nightmares, so even that isn't an apt comparison. This is the stuff of pure fantasy, somehow more wildly incomprehensible than even the existence of aliens had been.
But it's real. This is her life. She's falling for a man who says "doo-dad" with a straight face and she wouldn't change that for anything in the world. ]
It does sound perfect, doesn't it? [ Her smile is radiant as she gives his right hand a gentle little squeeze. ] You're welcome.
[ A few moments pass and then she moves her hands to pat his knees, signaling that they need to get on with things or they might just sit there all night staring into each other's eyes or something equally lovestruck ridiculous. Which she wouldn't necessarily mind, but they can save that for another night. Tonight, they have other plans. ]
Okay, you pick where we order from. I'm good with anything except the super sketchy burger place down the block.
[ She might be willing to do just about anything for Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, but even this superhero has her limits. ]
Wait, it’s sketchy? I’ve had some of the burgers and I think they’re fine. Then again, I could probably eat nuclear waste and survive.
[ Lead stomach, another one of the small benefits of that super-serum. But Bucky’s grinning, half-joking, and then slipping out of bed to go check the kitchen. There’s a stack of takeout menus stuck to the fridge with magnets; which still doesn’t bode well for his actual meal skills, he doesn’t do much cooking here, but it does make the place feel more lived-in. And particularly with Daisy’s additions, this sad apartment is starting to look and feel more like an actual home.
It’s good. It’s gonna be good. This time last year, he had nothing — but between Daisy and Sam and his stupid goddamned therapist, his life is slowly starting to settle into the semblance of something he doesn’t actually mind living. ]
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no subject
It's a nice kiss, not hurried or pushing for too much. She feels like each touch between them is a conversation rather than a demand for more. Leaning in to meet him feels comfortable and without expectation, and being able to reach up and gently frame his face with her hands feels like a gift. When she pulls back to catch her breath, she stays close, stroking her thumbs across the beard he keeps so neatly trimmed. ]
You're a good kisser. Can't read that in the history books. [ She's teasing, of course, her voice warm with affection. ]
no subject
[ Bucky ducks his face into her touch; he often seems to react like a cat, skittish about touch but then he leans into it for more once it’s there. After a moment, paring back some of his own vulnerability and honesty, he adds: ]
I’m rusty, so it’s kind of a miracle if I pulled that off. You can probably guess, but like, I haven’t done this in a while. A relationship. Not since, literally, World War II. So if I get anything wrong— because things have changed since the last time I knew how to do this, or because things haven’t changed but it’s been long enough for me— so if I fuck up— I’m just saying, please feel free to tell me. And if I’m… off, it’s not you, it’s… that.
[ A beat, and then one more card on the table: ] I kind of hadn’t really thought I’d ever get to this place again with anyone. So. Bear with me.
no subject
She drops her hands to his shoulders as he speaks, then slowly to his chest so she can better feel his heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Comforting. It doesn't take long at all for her to decide where this conversation needs to go. ]
We both have a lot of shit we're dealing with — the cards are kind of stacked against us in that regard. But if we both do the work to just talk to each other... We can maybe have a chance at making this work. So that goes both ways: If I say something, do something, or if I don't when I need to, then you tell me. Deal?
no subject
So Bucky takes a deep, rattling breath, but then he nods. ]
I’m shitty at this but, yeah, I’ll try. Deal.
no subject
[ Smiling with genuine happiness, she moves her hands to his against her thighs, loving every damn second of being able to touch him like this. To be close and know that it's okay now. She'll still always look for signs of it being too much, but now there's the hope of there being times when it's not enough. (She's looking forward to the latter.) ]
So, birthday boy. What do you want to do now? It's not that late, we could watch a movie or I could show you how to use your new toy. Or if you're hungry, we could get something that's not just alcohol and sugar — though, we are adults, so that is a perfectly acceptable dinner.
[ Is she still grinning like an idiot? Absolutely. Does she care? Not one bit. This is a feeling she could really get used to. ]
no subject
Can I say “all of the above”? Because, like, how about we order in some takeout, you show me how to use this doo-dad, [ did he really just say the words doo-dad, ] and then we can watch a movie with dinner.
Which kind of sounds like a perfect, chill night. Like, I couldn’t have asked for any better for my birthday. Thank you.
[ Steve, maybe. He misses Steve. But in lieu of that, Daisy’s still managing to help patch up those wounds. ]
no subject
But it's real. This is her life. She's falling for a man who says "doo-dad" with a straight face and she wouldn't change that for anything in the world. ]
It does sound perfect, doesn't it? [ Her smile is radiant as she gives his right hand a gentle little squeeze. ] You're welcome.
[ A few moments pass and then she moves her hands to pat his knees, signaling that they need to get on with things or they might just sit there all night staring into each other's eyes or something equally lovestruck ridiculous. Which she wouldn't necessarily mind, but they can save that for another night. Tonight, they have other plans. ]
Okay, you pick where we order from. I'm good with anything except the super sketchy burger place down the block.
[ She might be willing to do just about anything for Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, but even this superhero has her limits. ]
thaaaat’s a wrap
[ Lead stomach, another one of the small benefits of that super-serum. But Bucky’s grinning, half-joking, and then slipping out of bed to go check the kitchen. There’s a stack of takeout menus stuck to the fridge with magnets; which still doesn’t bode well for his actual meal skills, he doesn’t do much cooking here, but it does make the place feel more lived-in. And particularly with Daisy’s additions, this sad apartment is starting to look and feel more like an actual home.
It’s good. It’s gonna be good. This time last year, he had nothing — but between Daisy and Sam and his stupid goddamned therapist, his life is slowly starting to settle into the semblance of something he doesn’t actually mind living. ]