Soft Robotics ✧ Bucky Barnes

(on[1.15]);

"Of course not, I'm not an animal."

"Garden trowels aren't even phallic."

"I'm not arguing with you, doll."

"Okay. Well, that's all."

"You came to tell me you don't want me to penetrate you?" he asked. He said it so flatly that I knew he wanted to laugh. I understood that about him now.

"No, I came about my dream. I wanted to make sure she's okay."

"She?"

"Um, it. The orchid."

"Is the orchid you, Grace?" he asked, exasperated.

"No."

"Did you have a sex dream about me?"

"No!"

"It's okay if you did."

"There wasn't a dream!" I admitted finally. "I wasn't even asleep. I just lied to your face."

"So you're not here to check on your orchid."

"No. Yes. I don't know."

"I'm not a psychologist, but it feels like you're here about the penetration thing."

"I'm leaving," I said.

"No, don't," he said, finally letting out the short laugh he'd been suppressing. He stood aside to open the door wider. "Come in. I missed talking to you like this while I was gone."

I entered hesitantly, following behind him as he sat down on the couch. I sat on the opposite side, as far away as I could get. I tried not to think about the last time we'd been on this couch.

"I missed you," he admitted, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "I was thinking about you the whole time we were gone."

I tried not to look at him, even though he was watching me carefully.

"You could have called, then. All I wanted was a text, even."

"Come here?" he asked instead of answering. He sat up to offer me space.

My stomach flipped. Hesitantly, I got up onto my knees, taking his hand. I let him guide me onto his lap, my legs stretched out onto the couch.

He looked tired. My hand reached up to stroke his jaw, completely of its own accord. His face was a little scruffier than the last time I'd been this close to him. He turned his head and kissed my palm, and I dropped my hand back into my lap.

"How'd your finals week go?" he asked.

"Not bad. It's over now," I told him. "I have a break for a bit."

"That's great, doll."

I shifted and moved my hand onto his left shoulder for balance. Then I felt him roll that same shoulder ever so slightly, like it was hurting and I might have bothered it. I frowned. "Are you sore?"

He clearly hadn't intended for me to notice. "A little. Don't worry about it."

"From the mission?"

"Some from the mission. Sometimes it just hurts late at night."

"What does?"

"You know." He hesitated. "Where it attaches."

"Show me?"

He shrugged in agreement and pulled his shirt off. My breath hitched at the sudden intimacy. His size was more apparent now than ever, all hard lines and muscle definition. I felt small on his lap.