The Boss [COMPLETED]

Avenged

Bucky led you into his apartment, not commenting on the mess he had to guide you through. Or maybe he didn't even notice. Between you and Danvers rushing around to get ready and leave, you hadn't exactly kept things neat and tidy. But maybe he knew that was the reason why there were random pieces of clothing knocked off the coat rack, pieces of paper on the floor from when you were trying to find more weapons and emptied all the drawers. Maybe Danvers had already warned him somehow. Maybe he knew you had been here running around like a tornado.

Maybe he just didn't care.

He just led you to the bathroom, turning the taps on for the bath, never letting go of your hand. He reached for the bottom of your top, but hesitated, and looked you in the eyes, as if he could silently ask for your permission.

Turns out that he could, because you nodded. He gently lifted your top, waiting for your arms to lift as well so that he could take it off, chucking it to the side. Then his hands were on your hips, and he was pulling you round, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bath as it started to fill up. He bent down, pulling your shoes off, then your socks. Slowly. Carefully. As though a quick movement would scare you away. His hands briefly grazed your calf as he moved up to the waistband of your leggings, pausing when your hands covered his, and brought them up for you to look at properly.

His knuckles were split, bleeding, and red. They matched his face, where blood had now dried on his split lip, his temple, and the side of his nose. You couldn't stop yourself from running a finger over the cuts, with Bucky tensing his jaw to stop himself flinching away from you. Your hand ran down his neck, to his chest, to the buttons on his shirt. You could feel him breathing deeply underneath your palm. Your fingers wrapped around the first button, ready to undo it, when you both heard a knock from the front door.

Bucky's head snapped to the sound, and you saw him exhale with gritted teeth. He stood, carefully prising your fingers from his body.

"Get in. I'll be back." He whispered as he pressed his lips to the top of your head, and then disappeared from the room.

Suddenly, the hot steam in the bathroom felt suffocating. You weren't sure what had been interrupted, but you knew it had been heading somewhere back towards something you had been craving for weeks.

You rid yourself of the rest of your clothes, feeling pissed off now, and stepped into the warm bath, turning the taps off now that the water was high enough. Reaching to the windowsill you grabbed some of the bottles, smelling each one until you found one that you liked, pouring some of it into the bath and swirling it around until bubbles formed in the water.

It had been a while since you had a bubble bath. But somehow Bucky knew it was exactly what you needed. You leaned back, closing your eyes, and tried to process everything.

Your father was an abhorrent person, inside and out. You had known that for years. He may have deserved what Tony did, but there was still something miserable about the fact that you had now lost both your parents. That he had just been killed. Something heartbreaking about how he had just lied to you about your mother all this time, telling you she'd had a car crash, but knowing he was the reason she was dead.

Your mother didn't deserve a single thing she'd gotten. She may have had an affair, but she should have never settled for your father. She deserved so much more. She shouldn't have had to pay the price for his heinous coping mechanisms. She had been murdered for following her heart, and you had spent all this time grieving her death in completely the wrong way.

You never could have imagined Tony shooting a gun, let alone at your father. He'd always had a soft spot for you, sure, but you always assumed Tony was loyal to Adrian through anything. You wondered what Tony was going to do now, whether he'd never step foot back in this world, whether he would stay in touch with you. Whether he regretted shooting his closest friend, or whether he finally felt as though your mother had been avenged.

You wondered how many people were left standing in Adrian's organisation. You and Danvers had culled about half of them on your way in, but you wondered whether Sam, Clint, Steve, and all the others had killed the rest, or tried to recruit them.

You thought about what Bucky said. How he'd never let anything happen to you. Even if you wanted nothing to do with him. You thought about the fact that he'd gone to the house in the first place, just to save you. How he left Nat's that morning without saying anything. You had a sudden memory pop into your head of when this all started, with you and him standing in his kitchen, his hands on your face, telling you that he wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened to you.

You opened your eyes.

You'd also run back to the house, when you thought he was in danger. Even after everything, you still couldn't stand the thought of him being hurt. Of you not being able to see him again. He'd brought you back here. He said he was bringing you home.

Your thoughts were halted when the bathroom door opened. Bucky stepped in, his jacket and shoes now gone, and his face clean of blood. When you looked down, his hands were cleaned up too.

You swallowed before speaking, sitting up a little, the bubbles clouding around you.

"Who was it?" You asked.

"Tony." He replied simply, making your eyebrows raise in shock. "I'll talk to him properly in a couple of days."

"About what?"

He just breathed quietly in response and stepped closer to the bathtub, sitting carefully on the edge, his hand coming to your face to brush some hair away from your eyes.

"We don't have to worry about Adrian anymore." He decided to say, a soft tone to his words that softened the blow of him admitting that your father was dead, even though you knew it anyway. "But I need to talk to Tony about what's going to happen next."

You nodded, not quite sure how you felt about the fact that Tony was so willing to work for another Mob family so quickly. But then again, it didn't really surprise you. Tony usually threw himself into his work whenever shit hit the fan. It was how he coped. You wondered if he had asked Bucky about you.

"He said he's going to call you in a few days to talk." Bucky continued. "If you want."

"I'm not sure." You admitted, but you felt a little warm and happy that Tony wasn't just going to drop you from his life. "I'm not sure if that is what I want. Right now anyway. It's...a lot has happened today."

"What is it you do want?" Bucky asked, and you took a second to just look at him before answering. You realised he still had his hand on your face, resting on your cheek, his bright blue eyes waiting for your answer. Any answer you were willing to give him.

And there was only one way you could think of answering at that moment.

You sat up a bit more, reaching your hands out to the buttons of his shirt, taking you both back to the moment before Tony had knocked on the door. The moment where you were pretty sure he was thinking the same thing as you. His eyes were locked on yours, clearly not caring that your wet hands were getting his shirt damp.

You undid the button.

His hand left your face and flew to your wrist, stilling any more movement. His eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up.

"Luka.." He breathed. "We..."

"Did you mean it?" You asked, leaning slightly closer to him. "You said you'd never let anything happen to me. Did you mean it?"

"Until the day I die." He replied quickly, as though he never even had to think about it. His eyes were focusing more on your lips now.

"Then please..." You whispered. "Stay."

He took a breath.

Then he surged forward, and kissed you.