Cinnamon Rolls

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   Willow was half asleep and had almost stopped listening to Lulu. She was sitting on the couch, and Bucky was laying across the couch, with his head in Willow's lap. Willow was playing absentmindedly with Bucky's hair while Lulu talked. 

 "Willow, are you even still listening to me?"

"What? Yeah."

 "Really, what was I talking about?"

"Ummm, your last mission where you ended up unconscious in Mexico."

"I was talking about that like six minutes ago. Hey, want to see something funny?"

"Sure."

 "Alright. BUCKY, wake up!"

 "Wha?" Bucky muttered sitting up, his hair sticking haphazardly up where Willow had been running her fingers through it. 

 "Bucky, do you know who Miley Cyrus is? Or what Twilight is?"

"Ummm, no. Not really, sorry."

 "Hahaha! See, he's so innocent," Lulu grinned, ruffling her curly auburn hair.

 "Oh, my precious russian cinnamon roll, so innocent," Willow laughed.

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 Later that night, Bucky rolled over in bed and stared at Willow. "What was Lulu talking about earlier?"

  "Nothing important," Willow giggled. "You really are my precious little cinnamon roll, aren't you?"

  "I guess so," Bucky said quietly. 

   Willow kissed Bucky's forehead, and ran her hand down his cheek, "My precious little cinnamon roll, to good for this world." Willow's words were full of laughter, with just a hint of sadness.


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