[oom] the world a cage

[from_the_outside]

This was a bad idea.

She knows it as soon as she steps outside into the cool Brooklyn evening and Bucky locks the door behind them. Her pulse kicks up in her chest the second the lock clicks and she'd give almost anything to tell him she's changed her mind, that she's not going. To slip back inside the apartment and find a safe corner to breathe until this tight spiraling anxiety in her chest loosens.

Instead, she tugs her hood up over her hair and down over her eyes, hating how familiar it is. The hood. The dark clothes. The way every part of her goes on high alert. She hasn't been outside for a full minute and she's already exhausted.

It only gets worse as they go further from the apartment. Brooklyn isn't Madripoor, there are no shadows here where she can hide, no getaway routes she knows like the back of her hand. It's only having Bucky next to her that keeps her from fading back into the darkness and making a run for it, and by the time they get to the meeting spot – a bench along the river in Brooklyn Bridge Park – every nerve is stretched to its limit.

Next time, she's telling Fury just to meet them on a rooftop somewhere.

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[nerves_of_ice]

“You are, you know. My angel.”

He kisses her hair. “And you’re here. Now. With me.”

[from_the_outside]

"Well, somebody's got to keep an eye on you," she murmurs, smiling. "And it shouldn't always have to be Sam."

Angel. After everything she's done, every bad and criminal act she's committed, he still calls her angel. What can she possibly do except try to live up to it?

"I guess we could always swing by the 'local' for dancing," she continues after a second. "Though I haven't been there pretty much since Wakanda, either."

[nerves_of_ice]

“I’ve dropped by a few times,” he admits. “Less since getting back here, but still. We could, if you want.”

[from_the_outside]

"Soon," she says.

It's been a long time since that first visit with him, and if she doesn't love the place quite like he does, she still enjoys it.

Or enjoyed it, anyway. Her smile turns wry. "I admit that I could have used Lucifer's advice on running a posh nightclub back at the beginning."

[nerves_of_ice]

He groans aloud at that and looks down at her.

[from_the_outside]

“What?” she says, laughing at the look on his face.

“‘What would Lucifer do’ is a surprisingly useful train of thought when you’re trying to shadow run a criminal empire and throw great parties at the same time.”

[nerves_of_ice]

“I guess.” He heaves a sigh and holds her a little closer.

[from_the_outside]

“No more,” she promises.

“I’ve thrown my last party as the art dealer, and good riddance.”

[nerves_of_ice]

He’d never even thought about throwing a party, or getting together with - well, anyone, other than what he’s been doing to try to make amends. But after seeing Sam and his family laughing together over the dinner table, he wonders if maybe, some day—

He stores the thought away for later. Much later.

“As the art dealer,” he agrees, and kisses her.

[from_the_outside]

Behind her, the phone shifts to a new song, slow and jazzy as she kisses him back, fingers slipping up the nape of his neck into the shirt hair there.

“God,” she says, smiling when the kiss breaks. “I’m still not used to the short hair.”

[nerves_of_ice]

“I like the way your fingers feel in it, though,” he tells her, as a shiver passes over him from her touch. “Just so you know.”

[from_the_outside]

“I like how it feels under my fingers,” she tells him, and lightly scrapes blunted nails over the tender skin at the back of his skull, all dark-eyed mischief and bitten lower lip.

[nerves_of_ice]

He draws a quick sharp breath and shivers again, then smiles at her.

Slowly, he runs one hand up her back, then back down again, as he kisses her cheek, then the edge of her jaw.

[from_the_outside]

It’s her turn to shiver, humming softly, eyes sliding shut as she tips her head and offers up her jaw and the side of her throat.

“Baby,” she murmurs. “You just wreck me.”

Still. Always. After all this time.

[nerves_of_ice]

“Your skin is like silk.” Each word is a warm whisper of breath against her throat as he kisses her, tracing the line of her pulse with his lips.

[from_the_outside]

"Bucky."

Breathed out into the quiet room, beneath the soft music. Her pulse quickens under the soft, relentless press of his lips. She shivers at the sensation of his stubble brushing over tender skin and presses herself closer.

"I love that you can put both your arms around me again."

[nerves_of_ice]

“You fit so perfectly in them.” He tightens his left arm around her waist, running the fingers of his right hand into her hair and cradling her head when he nips gently at the side of her throat, then works his way down to the spot she likes so well.

“I love feeling you come apart when I’m holding you.”

[from_the_outside]

"I love when you pick me up and carry me around like it's nothing at all," she says, breathless, a small sound tugging in her throat.

She shivers again, then shakes hard when he reaches the sensitive spot at the curve of her neck into her shoulder. "And I love when you do that."

[nerves_of_ice]

He hums a soft sound against her throat, teasing that sensitive spot with lips and tongue until she’s quivering in his arms before he raises his head to look at her, still holding her close.

“I love you. Sharon Carter. My angel. I love you so much.”

[from_the_outside]

Every nerve is fired into life by the time he lifts his head and it's a good thing he's holding her so close – her knees are turning to water.

"I love you back," she says, beyond lost in him, scraping her nails gently through the short hair at the back of his neck. "My sweetheart. Kiss me, baby, I love you so much – "

[nerves_of_ice]

That’s as far as she gets before he answers her soft plea with a deep, drugging kiss, pulling her so close against him that nothing can separate them.

“Love me,” he says, between kiss after kiss. “And let me love you.”

[from_the_outside]

“Yes.” She breathes it into the kisses. She’s drowning in him and she never wants to surface. She grips his hair, wraps her arms tighter around him.

“I’ll love you, baby. Be all mine, I’m all yours.”

[nerves_of_ice]

“I am,” he promises, and kisses her again. “I’m yours. Completely.”

Bucky trails his hand along her spine, drawing the zipper of the pretty red dress down with it.

[from_the_outside]

She's had this dream before, too: the deep, drowning kisses; the soft words; the dress unzipping along her back.

But it's no dream. He's warm and solid and real and the dress loosens against her skin, her back bare under his hand. There's no pretty lingerie this time; she's all bare skin beneath the silk red fabric.

[nerves_of_ice]

He groans aloud, the sound ripped from him at the realization that there’s nothing under the dress but her.

“Baby, you bring me to my knees,” he tells her, trailing his fingers lightly over her skin.