[oom] I'm right here beside you

[from_the_outside]

 Sleep is a joke.

It's not just the intel that she stays up sifting through, blue light straining her eyes; it's not just the coffee she drinks, trying to keep her brain sharp and her thoughts on track. 

It's time.

Minutes that slip away, that she can't get back. Hours that tick ponderously past. She lies alone in her bed and can't close her eyes because if she does, if she sleeps, it's another night gone, another night closer to the day Bucky goes back under and –

So she stays up and works. 

It means that when she waits for him in the morning to come find her before they meet with T'Challa and the others, her skin is pale and translucent and she has that sick feeling of an all-nighter, fatigue poisons running rampant through her bloodstream – but she has a list of observations from her analysis, and two mugs of coffee kept warm on the credenza: one pale with milk and sugar, the other black and as strong as her little coffee maker could handle.

Comments

[nerves_of_ice]

She doesn't believe him. She thinks it's inevitable, he realizes; that there's no way around it, and she's preparing herself to deal with it. With Fury.

He doesn't argue with her. She's done so much to try to make this a nice night. He's not going to let Fury's ghost spoil it.

(Nor is he going to stand by and just let it happen if it comes down to it, but they'll see how tomorrow goes.)

Instead, he stays quiet for a bit, watching her watch the sky above them. Eventually, he murmurs, "Are you warm enough?"

[from_the_outside]

"Mm."

She rolls her head to look over at him. "It's a little cool."

Not bad. But enough that she might get the other throw, eventually. "We could go inside, but it's a beautiful night."

Like almost every night has been, here. But she doesn't think she'll ever get used to it.

[nerves_of_ice]

"It is," he says, but he's looking at her, not the world around them. "Beautiful, I mean."

Bucky smiles, and starts to get to his feet. "Let me go get the other blanket."

[from_the_outside]

She follows him up with her eyes, tipping her head back to smile at him. "Okay."

But she doesn't just sit there while he's up; she shifts and begins collecting and re-capping the containers of food, tucking them back away into the pack before refilling his cup and hers with the wine.

[nerves_of_ice]

It doesn't take him long to make his way to the hut and back, the purple-and-smoke throw neatly folded and thrown over his shoulder. "Here," he says, on seeing what she's doing. He leans down and shifts the pack to the side before pulling the throw free and starting to shake it out.

"Hold on to the wine so I don't knock it over," he advises, a little ruefully.

[from_the_outside]

She dutifully leans forward and steadies the bottle and two cups, then grins at him.

"Ready."

[nerves_of_ice]

He sends the throw billowing outward with a snap of his wrist, then quickly sits down beside her before it finishes settling back to the ground and pulls it over them.

"There. Better?"

[from_the_outside]

"Better," she agrees, shifting close to him and handing him his cup before tugging the throw a little more securely over her shoulder. He throws off body heat like a furnace – must have something to do with that super soldier metabolism – and within moments it's as cozy under the throw as it could be by a fireside in winter.

She shakes her head and leans up to press a kiss to his neck and another to his cheek before pulling back again, a mischievous light in her eyes. "Much better."

[nerves_of_ice]

He smiles and touches his cup to the one she's holding as he leans his shoulder against hers. "I'm glad."

[from_the_outside]

"I did bring a couple of games," she says, after a long period of comfortable silence, where she braces her free hand behind his back and shifts to sit on her hip so she can set her head on his shoulder.

"But they'd be better on the table."

And this, with the starlight and the candles and him steady and warm beside her, already feels just about perfect.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Eventually," he replies. Bucky turns his head to touch his lips to her hair. "There's no rush."

[from_the_outside]

"Okay," she says, peaceably.

There isn't a rush, because he's not going to send her back to the Citadel tonight. He's not going to make excuses and push her away. "You can have a little more time before I destroy you in Jenga."

[nerves_of_ice]

He slants a suspicious look at her.

"In what now?"

[from_the_outside]

She just laughs and sets her head back against his shoulder.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Okay, be that way," he says, amused. "I'll find out eventually."

[from_the_outside]

"Yes, you will," she says, still grinning to herself as she takes a sip of the wine.

Board games and picnics; they seem like such childish things but right now she's sure she wouldn't trade them – or sitting here with him – for the best restaurant or the greatest party in the world.

[nerves_of_ice]

The moon rises above the trees and starts on its arc across the sky while they sit there, lazily finishing the wine and entertaining themselves with wandering conversation. Eventually, Bucky sets his empty cup aside and makes sure the throw is tucked neatly around Sharon as protection from the passing cool breezes over the lake.

[from_the_outside]

She smiles at him, and smiles at him, and smiles at him until she's nearly forgotten her worries over Fury, over the procedure, over the op, and as he tucks the blanket around her, she scans the night sky, making up increasingly ridiculous constellations until he laughs.

It's not like any date she's ever been on, but maybe that's what makes it so perfect.

[nerves_of_ice]

He tugs a lock of her hair as she teases him, then leans in to kiss her. "Creative," he tells her, when the kiss breaks. "Very funny."

[from_the_outside]

"What?" she grins, and kisses him again. "You've never heard of the 'Southern Salamander'? I thought you were supposed to be worldly."

But he's right there to kiss, so she leans in and does it again, tugging the blanket around both their shoulders as she wraps her arms around his neck.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Worldly's one thing. Gullible's another."

He slips his arm around her waist as she holds on to him there under the stars, and kisses her back.

[from_the_outside]

She can't even blame it on the wine when she winds up in his lap, pressing herself as close as possible, her hands in his hair and his smile against her mouth.

Not that she won't try, if he points it out.

[nerves_of_ice]

He doesn't seem inclined to point out anything of the kind, as he lets out a low groan and draws her closer when she settles against him. He draws a quick, deep breath, then kisses her again, otherwise letting her set the pace.

[from_the_outside]

The pace she picks is slow and deliberate: deep, sweet kisses that linger on his mouth and against his cheek and along the line of his throat, stubble biting at her lips.

There's nobody around them for miles and the night is dark and quiet, the only sounds those of small nighttime insects and the gentle lap of lake water against the shore and the little noises she makes when his arm tightens around her.

[nerves_of_ice]

She's more intoxicating than any alcohol could ever be.

He tips his head back as she kisses along his neck, giving her easier access. He'd give her anything she wants, he thinks, as his arm settles around her waist, his hand curving over her hip.