He's been a wreck all week. The nightmares are getting worse. Full-blown flashbacks, missing pieces that he wishes would just fall away into oblivion. He can't handle waking up alone anymore. Bucky has been seeing Shannon for a week now, meeting for lunch and coffee. He buys her a single rose and smiles as she turns pink and sniffs at it. She's so pretty.
Yesterday, she asked if he wanted to have dinner tonight since she had a night off from the restaurant. She offered to cook for him. They could watch a movie and get to know each other in a more personal setting. Bucky doesn't know why he said yes. He knows he's not fully ready, but he wants to prove to himself that he can do this. Next week, he wants to walk into Dr. Raynor's office and tell her that he was able to connect with someone other than a court-mandated therapist for the first time since Steve.
So, he's decided to start taking some steps. Like, today, he bought a couch. It's not great, but it's something. Maybe she'll like it if she comes over.
If they get to that point. He still has the ability to screw this up.
"Okay, where are we putting this couch?" Sam asks as Bucky closes the door behind him and sets it down in the hall. "And remind me why you couldn't do this yourself with that vibranium arm of yours?"
"How do you think it would look if I just carried a couch one-handed down the street?"
"You'd look like an Avenger," Sam replies. "Which is what you are. It's not exactly private information, Barnes."
He crosses his arms over his chest and smiles.
"You know what I think?"
"I'm afraid to ask," Bucky grumbles.
"I think you just wanted some company. Maybe this whole thing with Shannon is softening you up a little, huh? Am I on the right track?"
"No."
His Tinder phone dings and he digs it out of his pocket. A message from Shannon.
Still good for 7 tonight?
He smiles and doesn't see Sam watching him with a huge grin on his face and raised eyebrows.
7 is perfect. Your place, right?
Yep! :) 51st and Oak.
See you in a few hours.
See you, cutie!
His heart almost stops. Cutie. She called him — she thinks he's cute. Bucky rubs the back of his neck and sighs, slipping the phone back into his pocket and trying to play it cool. When he looks up, Sam is sitting on the couch with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyebrows raised.
"What?" He asks.
"Look at you, man! One week and this woman has you absolutely fucked up!"
"I'm not fucked up."
"You bought a couch, man! What's next? A bed? With a box spring and a mattress so you don't have to sleep on the floor like a damn dog?!"
"I like the floor," Bucky mumbles.
"You like to torture yourself," Sam replies. Bucky's mouth sets in a firm line, but he says nothing. Sam sighs. "How many times have you seen her this week?"
"Three," Bucky admits. "Just lunch and coffee. She doesn't work far from here."
"Three times?! You gotten laid on any of these lunch dates?"
Bucky frowns.
"That's personal."
"We're friends."
"We're not friends. Help me move this couch."
"Tell me and I'll help you move this couch."
"...No. I haven't gotten laid yet — there's an art to courtship, Sam. I haven't even given her my phone number yet. We text on this thing."
He holds out the Tinder phone and Sam laughs, shaking his head.
"Have you kissed her yet?"
Bucky looks at the floor and sighs. He doesn't want to screw this up. Shannon makes him laugh. She's nice to him. Much nicer than he deserves. She figured out pretty quickly that most of his Tinder profile was bullshit and set up by someone else. Mostly because he couldn't name a single Rihanna song and told her that his favorite movie was Gone With the Wind — not Godzilla. If Sam ever found out about that, he would never let Bucky live it down. He cried when he saw it in the theater when it came out in 1939. And then he walked right out of the movie and bought a ticket for the next showing.
Sam chuckles and stands up, lifting one end of the couch while Bucky lifts the other. They walk backward into the living room effortlessly and set it down in front of the television. Sam kicks Bucky's blankets and sad pillow out of the way before he flops down onto the sofa.
"Are you seeing her tonight?"
"Yeah. At seven. I'm going to her place. She's cooking dinner."
"Oh-ho-ho-ho!" Sam laughs, clapping and rubbing his hands together.
"What?"
"A woman cooking for you? You'd better give her something in return for doing all of that hard work."
He doesn't want to rush into this. It might just be too much for him. For Bucky, the only times he's touching someone is when he's beating them into a pulp. He knows what he's capable of, what he's done. He knows he has the capacity to cause intense pain and destruction. The last time he was really with a woman was at Stark Expo. It's been so long since he felt warmth like that. His stomach bubbles and works itself into a series of knots. Sam looks up at him.
"You okay?"
Bucky nods, trying not to be sick on himself. Is that what she's expecting? He knows how relationships are supposed to go. It's not like he lost any of those desires over the years. It's just that... it's a lot of pressure. Sam reaches over and claps him on the shoulder.
"Hey, look, man. I gotta jet. But good luck with Shannon tonight, okay? And try to have fun. Let go a little. Maybe kiss her, or at least tell her that you like her. Women appreciate affection."
Bucky nods as Sam drifts out of the living room. He pulls out his phone and opens Tinder.
What kind of wine do you like?
~~~
Bucky approaches Shannon's building with a bottle of Pinot Noir clutched in his hand. The apartment building is much nicer than his. The lobby has marble floors and a plush red carpet. There are pillars. How does she afford this? What kind of restaurant does she work at? Bucky suddenly feels underdressed and takes a deep breath as he approaches the buzzer. There are so many buttons and there's no directory. He sighs.
"Not again with the buttons and shit," he mumbles to himself. The directory is all by last name. He sighs and hears the door open behind him.
"James?"
Shannon appears, as if by magic. Her strawberry blonde hair is curled and she's wearing a black turtleneck and black jeans. There's a shopping bag clutched in her hand. Bucky tries not to stammer.
"Hi. Sorry, am I early?"
"No!" She exclaims. "I sent you a message telling you I might be late. The potatoes I had went bad so I had to pick up more. Follow me."
He walks behind her, watching as she waves to the concierge and turns the corner toward the elevators.
"This is a really nice building," he remarks.
"Oh, thanks. Yeah, I got lucky. There's usually a four-year waitlist for this place, but my best friend was moving out and asked if I wanted to take over her lease. I've wanted to live here since I was a little girl."
Bucky smiles.
"Thanks for cooking. It's not my forte."
"I only cook for people I really like, so count yourself lucky."
He feels the back of his neck get hot and fiddles with the zipper on his leather jacket. Shannon elbows him gently.
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
"I know we've seen a lot of each other lately."
"No, it's good," he laughs. "I've gotten out more in the last week than I have in the last two months."
A look of concern flickers across her face.
"Really?"
"Yeah. I'm sort of an indoor kind of person."
"Indoors is good," she laughs. The elevator dings and she gestures for him to follow her.
Her apartment is cool. Everything is color-coordinated with black and white furniture. There aren't a lot of knickknacks lying around and the place is spotless. They slide their shoes off and she looks at him.
"You wanna take your jacket off?"
Bucky nods. He wore a long-sleeved shirt because he didn't want to risk looking like a weirdo who insisted on wearing his coat indoors. It's not that he thinks the arm is a big deal. He's learned to live with it and it can be really useful at times - but he also understands that it can be a shocking thing to see for the first time. Especially a first date. Bucky slips off his jacket and follows her into the kitchen. It's an open concept design with a full view of the living room and the patio. He sets the bottle of wine on the counter. She grabs it and opens it, pouring them two generous glasses.
"It smells amazing in here," he remarks.
She beams at him.
"I'm making beef wellington."
"I've never had it."
"Mmm!" She exclaims, taking a sip of wine. "Trust me, it's delicious."
"I trust you," he says softly. He looks around. Her fridge is decorated with a million tiny pictures. Bucky walks over to them and picks them up. Parties, work events, all with the same six people. Shannon chuckles.
"Those are my co-workers."
"You're close?"
She nods.
"They're like family."
"Do you not have —" Bucky stops himself and shakes his head. "Probably not the most appropriate topic for a third date."
She laughs and shakes her head. There's something really easygoing about her that draws him toward her. He doesn't know how it's possible for a person to make him nervous and comfortable in the same breath.
"It's okay. I do have family, they just don't live here. My mom was a school teacher and she's been taking a leave of absence to take care of my dad."
"What's wrong with your dad?"
"Dementia."
Bucky grimaces. He shouldn't have asked.
"I'm sorry."
"It's all right. He's doing as well as can be expected. I get to see him every month or so, so that's nice."
Bucky nods and returns to his former spot at the counter, leaning against it. He watches intently as she washes, peels, and chops some potatoes. She's fast. Really fast. Bucky raises his eyebrows and Shannon smirks at him.
"Are you impressed?"
"Yeah. A little," he confesses. "You're good with that knife."
"I'm a professional," she says with a wink. She beckons him over. "You wanna try?"
He takes a sip of wine and sets the glass back down.
"Yeah."
Shannon hands him the knife and he takes her place in front of the cutting board. He feels her walk behind him, his muscles tensing as she reaches forward to touch his gloved hand that's holding the blade. He can feel his neck getting hot again. He feels nervous. It's half Oh, God. A girl is touching me, and half Oh, God, what if she accidentally touches my GIANT METAL ARM?!
Bucky takes a deep breath and hears Shannon laugh, her breath hot on his skin.
"So you want to slice off a tiny bit of the potato on the side — yep. Just like that. Now you've made a base so it doesn't roll away and you don't accidentally chop your fingers off and then just chop the rest of it as fast as you can. But make sure you — holy shit! James! That was amazing!"
Bucky chops the potato with quickness and ease. He sets the knife down and turns around to face her. They're standing toe to toe. She looks up at him and bites her lip. Bucky breathes deeply through the nervousness mounting in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he should take Sam's advice and let go a little. What could it hurt? She clearly likes him. He can see it. Her pupils are dilated and her hands haven't moved from their place on his forearms. He can see her pulse quickening and her chest rising and falling with his. There's so much adrenaline pulsing through him right now that he doesn't really know what to do with or or where to put it except... toward her — in a good way, of course.
He should just kiss her. He should do it. This used to be easy for him.
The oven dings and Shannon's eyes bounce toward it.
"I should —"
"Just a second," he murmurs, reaching out to grasp her face with both hands. He pulls her toward him and stops. Shannon looks confused, breathing quickly. Bucky swallows hard. "I'm going to kiss you."
"I would like that," she rasps.
"Me too." He's temporarily paralyzed. Shannon giggles.
"Are you going to kiss me?"
"I'm working up to it. I haven't done this —"
"What if I kiss you?" She asks.
"That would be — I would like that too."
She reaches up, cupping his face in her hands, and pulls him toward her. Her lips are soft, plush, and he can taste the wine that lingers on her tongue. She kisses him slowly at first, opening her mouth for him so that he can slide his tongue against hers. It's better than he could possibly imagine, but it occurs to Bucky that he hasn't kissed a girl in so long that he's not sure what the hell he's supposed to do. He sort of remembers, but Luckily, instinct takes over and he begins to kiss her back, increasing the intensity. He backs her up against the refrigerator and she moans, her fingers tangling themselves in his hair.
The timer on the oven dings again and they pull themselves away from each other, panting hard. Shannon's face is flushed and she bursts out laughing. Bucky immediately feels a sense of panic flood his body. Inadequacy. Terror.
"That was incredible," she giggles. "Can we do that again? — After I put the potatoes in the oven and let the meat rest?"
He sighs with relief and runs his gloved hand through his hair.
"Yeah. Yeah, definitely."
It feels good to let go.
As Shannon shoves oven mitts onto her hands and goes to tend to the beef wellington, Bucky looks up and sees a flash of red on the balcony. He knows who it is before he even sees Sam's stupid wings and his big, dumb smile. He glances at Shannon as she sets the hot pan down on the stove.
"Where's your bathroom?"
"Oh, uh, down the hall and to your left."
"Thanks."
He waits for her to turn her back to the patio door again before gesturing for Sam to meet him at the bathroom window -- if there even is a bathroom window. There has to be. Bucky walks quickly toward the bathroom and turns the light on, locking the door behind him. Sam is floating outside of the window waving at him. Bucky growls and wrenches it open.
"What the hell are you doing here?!"
"Now I'm spying on you. You got some sugar, man! Congratulations! You're letting go!"
"Would you get the hell out of here?!" Bucky hisses.
"Or what?" Sam asks, tilting his head and smiling. "What are you gonna do if I decide to just crawl on in here and invite myself to dinner? I can be very charming."
Bucky folds his arms across his chest.
"I will go to your house and I will lick every single bagel I know you bought at that coffee shop the other day."
Sam glares at him.
"Okay," he replies, nodding. "I will see you there when you figure out how to use Google maps, you ancient shithead."
"I want you to turn around and fly the hell away!" Bucky hisses. "You are ruining this!"
"I'm not ruining anything! But you should flush the toilet in the next few minutes unless you want her to come looking for you and find my ass hanging outside of her bathroom window."
Bucky shuts the window and flushes the toilet. He hears Sam yell "BYE!" as he turns and flies away.
"Asshole," he mumbles under his breath as he splashes some water on his face.