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(about a year ago)
I want a Sunday kind of love, a kind of love that lasts past Saturday night...
Etta Jame's velvety voice wafted through the air and brought the same warm, summery feeling like a freshly baked apple pie emitting it's intoxicating scent from atop her windowsill in all her pride and glory. The atmosphere was soft and sweet while the symphony of chirping crickets and swaying tree tops assisted in developing the moment of bliss in its purest form. All was calm, even the worlds incessant need to ruin all that is good and euphoric seemed to cease her unrelenting attacks; although odd, I couldn't help but savor the moment my mind morbidly assumed would be short lived.
His gentle, calloused hand held my own within his delicate grasp feeling of warm honey against my cold skin while his available hand held me closer to his body desperately craving the simple feeling of closeness, acting almost as if he'd never experienced the simple luxury before. Meanwhile, his scruffy chin found itself resting comfortably atop my head of chestnut hair while our bodies swayed to the soft beat of the music; my face, rendered a rosy hue of red, buried into his chest as my ears found the beat of his heart far more melodic.
"Kate." His raspy voice hummed in a buttery, sweet tune as the mere sound of his voice never failed to send the same electric feeling down my spine, causing an inadvertent laugh to compete against the music when he felt my body shiver at his words.
"Oh I'm sorry, you want something, Barnes?" I sarcastically jested while shifting my heads positions from a relaxed position to straining my neck up towards him, a playful smirk twisting my lips into a devious smile as the once slow paced song switched to a classic known as Cry To Me from Solomon Burke.
"Why do I suddenly feel like I'm in a scene of Dirty Dancing?" He wisecracked with a titled head and cocked brow towards my lopsided grin spreading from cheek to cheek, which caused the soldiers gut to tingle with a familiar sensation whenever his longing eyes had the privilege to lay upon such a beaming sight.
"Could it be because of the approximately million times I've made you watch it with me? Hmm, couldn't be, it's completely uncorrelated." I teased placing my index finger atop my set of lips curled in contemplation while my body, mainly my hips, mindlessly began to move to the rhythm of the music.
"You're right, couldn't be." Bucky played along with my continual antics as he widened the distance between us in order to engage in a cliche twirl, as he'd properly learned one does during such a romantic moment, but it wasn't cliche to him. No, not at all to the soldier intently watching a head a dark brown hair whipping around in a circle while his ears solely tuned in on the infectious laugh, drowning out all other sounds, spilling from my lips.
The same pair of lips he was now gently pulling in closer for a tender kiss feeling of spring after a long brutal winter, our bodies melting into one another as our lips were now the ones dancing to the beat of the music; the two of us becoming helplessly spellbound by the sweet taste and feeling of each other with not as much as an inch of distance in between us.
