trigger warning: references to self-harm and suicide that may be offensive or upsetting to some readers
trigger warning: language that may be offensive or upsetting to some readers
trigger warning: mild sexual content that may be offensive or upsetting to some readers
Marjorie's POV
"Will you tell me about what happened with Sofi now? Please?"
She shook her head, hiding in his shoulder again. "Don't wanna," she muttered.
"Please?" he requested, shifting to the more sexy tone she couldn't resist. Bucky rolled over to his back so Marjorie was laying on top of him, his fingers gently pressing into her waist. "Please, Doll?"
Marjorie narrowed her eyes. "No, I'm not falling for that." She struggled to sit up, but his arms restrained her.
"Please?" he purred, sliding his nose across her neck. His hands lowered to her hips.
"No," she said as he gently pecked her neck, leaving a warm trail of kisses. "I refuse."
Bucky growled into her neck, his teeth grazing her more sensitive skin. "What will make you change your mind?"
She racked her brain, then grinned. "I'll only tell you if you tell me what you have been saying in Russian, what you previously refused to translate."
Bucky scowled. "You're awfully annoying for such a small person," he complained.
"I'm not short," she corrected, "you're tall."
"Fine," he growled. "I've been saying–" he broke off into rapid Russian.
"In English."
Sighing, he unwillingly said, "Well, I call you 'Delicious' a lot."
Marjorie's cheeks tinted pink. "Really?"
Bucky frowned, embarrassed. "You are, so, yeah." He nibbled at her bottom lip to demonstrate.
"What else?" She knew there was more; he often said full sentences.
"You first," he argued.
Well, she had promised. "Sofi found about these–" Marjorie held up her wrist "–the cuts, I mean."
"Did she react badly?"
The damage Sofi had inflicted to her mind had Marjorie wanting to deny the fact, but... "You first."
Bucky glared. "Really?"
"Yes," she sang.
"...Mostly that you're beautiful." He was withholding, she could tell.
Two could play at that game. "Then, yes, I suppose she did react badly."
"What exactly do you mean by that?"
Marjorie smiled mysteriously; it barely took a second for him to understand. "Come on, Doll," he complained, "it only makes sense in context. And how do you expect me to remember everything that I said?"
"Do you expect me to remember exactly how she reacted?"
Bucky scowled at her. "That's different."
She patiently waited.
"Is there anything else you would be willing to trade for?" he offered.
Marjorie thought about that. Bucky really didn't want to tell her. It must be really embarrassing, if it was worse than calling her 'Delicious.' And there was something else she wanted from him... "Alright," she decided. "You could kiss me."
"That's easy," said Bucky, surprised at her request. "I would do that anyway."
She shrugged. "It doesn't hurt so much if I'm distracted."
Bucky gently pulled her face towards his, and pressed their lips together. He traced her lips with his tongue, begging for entrance. She happily obliged and met her tongue with her own, stroke for stroke.
Bucky groaned slightly in her mouth and nibbled at her lips. His hands tightened on Marjorie's hips and crushed her closer to him.
"Does this get an answer?" he asked against her skin.
"Yep." Her voice was wobbling slightly and she felt warm and flushed on the inside. "Umm, she was mad that I had been... you know... almost the whole time we were dating, and then she broke up with me."
"She was mad," asked Bucky doubtfully, "and broke up with you? Does she not understand self-harm at all?" Marjorie got the sense this was a rhetorical question. "But what did you mean yesterday, the thing about asking you to kill yourself?"
She cringed. "That's not exactly what happened."
"Then what?" But he sensed her reluctance. "Do you want me to distract you again?"
Marjorie hesitated. "Yeah, if you don't mind."
"Umm–" it was kind of difficult to talk with his lips crushing against hers, but Marjorie managed "–She said 'Go kill yourself if that's what you really want.' And that she didn't care."
Of course Marjorie could quote her word for word. It wasn't the kind of thing that was easily forgotten.
Bucky made an angry noise. "So, that is exactly what happened." His hands automatically tightened on her hips.
"Um, oww."
"Oh, sorry," he muttered, immediately letting go of her. Marjorie was glad for her healing: Bucky didn't seem to realize how tightly he held her, and would be devastated if he knew he had hurt her enough to make a mark. Besides, it didn't really hurt that much, and he didn't do it intentionally.
Bucky had his 'I'm going to kill somebody' face on, and Marjorie worried whether she should have downplayed more. "You okay?"
He gauged her expression. "How much are you against me killing Sofi?"
She frowned. "No. Absolutely not."
"What if I promise not to drag it out too long?"
"No! You can't kill or torture Sofi."
Bucky scowled. "What about psychological torture?"
"No," ordered Marjorie. "No torturing, psychological or not."
He sighed. "Fine–" Bucky sounded exasperated, like he didn't understand why she was being so difficult "–I won't kill and/or torture Sofi." There was a short pause, like he was thinking hard. "What about in self-defense? Can I retaliate if she tries to fight me?"
She rolled her eyes. "That's not going to happen. Sofi hates physical exercise."
"But—"
"No buts," she said sternly. "This conversation is over. Okay?"
"Fine," he grumbled. "Was there anything else important about the Sofi breakup?"
Marjorie pondered this while he trailed butterfly kisses down her neck. "I guess she was already mad at me." Rightfully so.
"Why?"
"I missed a date because I went on a job with Wade," she winced. She had slipped back into the mercenary dialect—'job' rather than the more military 'mission' of the Avengers. "And also the killing-people thing."
"You used to go on missions with Wade?" Bucky seemed impressed with this. He had apparently translated 'job' into 'mission', most likely the military dialect was used with Hydra in addition to the Avengers.
"Only when he asked me–" she wanted to explain that it sounded way more cool and bad-ass than it was in reality "–it really wasn't a big deal. I didn't do much."
"But what do you mean, 'the killing-people thing?'" he asked.
She fidgeted uncomfortably. "Sofi didn't like the killing part of Wade's job. She didn't know about mom, but she knew roughly what the jobs entailed."
He considered that. "But... I thought Wade only took the missions where he would only kill criminals and such?"
"He does," said Marjorie, startled. "But Sofi doesn't really care why. Isn't it still killing, anyway?"
"No... the reasoning has to count for something, right?"
She shook her head in disagreement. "No, Sofi was right: I'm a bad person."
Bucky scoffed. "You're not a bad person. You're much more virtuous than me, and most other people."
Marjorie rolled her eyes. "Anything Winter did doesn't count. You were controlled, you didn't have a choice."
"I was in the army before Hydra, you know. World War Two—that involved quite a lot of killing people."
She struggled for a counterpoint. "You were drafted, though."
His eyes narrowed. "Steve wasn't drafted. What about him?"
Steve was one of the most innocent and good people she had ever met. "That's different."
"How?"
She couldn't come up with a coherent reason.
"And Natalia," added Bucky, "and Clint. Sam, Bruce, and Tony. They've all killed people."
Marjorie could argue with his logic without inculpating her friends. Tricky.
He sensed her surrender. "See? You're a good person," he cooed. Marjorie let him hug her to his chest. "Sofi was wrong, you can't judge yourself so harshly. You are a good person."
In that moment, protected and warm in his arms, she could almost believe him.