Cruel Summer

Chapter 35

A/N: We've still got a few chapters to go before this whole thing wraps up....but man, i sure love this little family i've created! Thoughts??

Chapter Text

It was quiet back in the room—where Meg had completely cleaned the place up and was patiently waiting for Bucky to exit the shower and the bathroom. She wanted to protect him, wanted to take care of him, wanted him to know how much she loved him and had truly missed him—it felt like the aching and gaping hole in her chest was finally starting to mend.

Marge had offered to watch Flo for the night—not that Meg particularly minded that fact. Bucky had a lot to catch up on with his daughter, but Meg was his wife . And they hadn't even had much time before he had left, before he had been burning up in reaching Germany.

Meg's mind was tangled in all sorts of knots by the time that the door to the bathroom opened up—and Bucky just leaned in the doorway, eyes set on Meg sitting on the bed. She seemed to be sorting through more letters and he surely had questions about that. But God , the sight of Meg just sitting there domestically made him want to just run away with her and Flo to some remote place in the country and never leave.

"I bet you missed having hot water," Meg said, finally looking over to where he stood in the doorway. His hair was still dripping slightly and the pajamas that they had scrounged up for him were softer than any of the clothes in the Stalag had been. But things still felt— off .

"Not as much as I missed seeing my wife," Bucky murmured.

A soft smile crossed Meg's features and she got up from the bed. She crossed the floor in a few steps, sinking into Bucky's arms and clinging to him like he was some sort of ghost that she was afraid would disappear in her very arms. For a moment, the silence just settled around them like the dust after an explosion would.

It was a comforting blanket that soothed the both of them down to the core. "I missed you," Meg's voice came out sounding all sorts of emotional—and she hadn't entirely meant to do that.

"I know baby, I know," He murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Meg pulled away from him, hands going straight to his face so that she could look him in the eyes. Bucky's eyes were devoid of warmth— he was tired as hell and they both knew it . Something had wrecked him while he was over there and he finally knew what life had been like for Meg in some small part—all those years away from everything and all hope. On the bench and sidelined.

Her hands were like a heatbed of warmth, seeping into him like sunlight and keeping him grounded and in the moment. She touched him delicately and beautifully, like he was some sort of stained glass or something meant to be worshiped as she looked at him with those damn Bambi eyes .

"I'm never letting you go again," Meg said in a soft tone.

At that, he nearly crumpled against her— because Meg was the feeling of home and safety and security and warmth and she was everything to him . "I'm not going anywhere," Bucky promised quietly.

"Let me take care of you?" Meg led him by the hand over to the bed—but there was nothing inherently sexual at the moment. And it wasn't until he was sitting down that he even realized what she wanted to do. Her hands worked on his shoulders, ebbing against the tension like some sort of heavenly ministrations. He had almost forgotten what it was like to be touched by someone with gentle hands.

Meg may have been war but she was all healing in Bucky's eyes.

The tension slowly began to melt off of his shoulders. She murmured patterns against his back, softly tracing and occasionally pressing butterfly light kisses to his shoulders. He relaxed into her grip, almost feeling like he was some form of jelly.