for sylvie

[semi_stable]

[From here.]


“Yes, an actual bed,” Bucky says with a genuine laugh of his own, spurred on by lovely sound of Sylvie’s own laughter. He finds himself wanting to make her laugh again and again.

They get dressed and the blanket disappears back from wherever it came, and the walk back to Bucky’s building is pleasant and calm, even if he does feel anticipation rising in his belly. Sometimes she makes him feel as if he’s on fire, her and Loki both. He hasn’t felt like this since he was just a dumb kid whose only concern was trying to figure out which girl at the dance hall might let him under her skirt.

Once they make it into the building and inside the elevator, Bucky hits the button for his floor and then stands next to her with his hands behind his back, trying not to touch her, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he wants to so much that he’s afraid that he won’t be able to stop once he does.

Comments

[semi_stable]

The vulnerable tone to the question resonates with him, like his own feelings have been reflected back at him, which is something that seems to happen often with Sylvie. They're so alike in some ways, so different in others, but they get each other.

"No," he says with quiet conviction, shifting up onto his metal so he can look down at her, resting his good hand against the center of her chest, thumb sweeping back and forth as he smiles down at her, hair spilling over his forehead. "I really don't want you to leave. I want to get you breakfast."

[the_variant]

She doesn't quite smile, but something changes in her eyes and Sylvie nods. "Then I'll stay." She wants to. It isn't only that she's staying for him, but because she doesn't want to leave. She's comfortable and content and she's had a lovely night.

She doesn't want to go.

"But now you've built up the expectations," she continues, finally breaking into a smile. "I'm going to expect this breakfast be impressive."