(Inspired by video)
You stood outside of the tiny dance studio of the tower, feeling sad that your injury was keeping you from using it, and feeling anxious because you didn't have an outlet for your stress of not being active on the team. You were feeling a bit worthless lately, despite the reassurances from both Bucky and Sam to the contrary. Even Steve had stepped up, saying that maybe it wasn't totally your fault and maybe he should've been more careful with his aim, when you both knew that you had just gotten in the way.
You decided that the mirror could use a cleaning, and that the bars were a bit dusty, opening the door slowly and making your way in while taking care to not trip over your crutches. Once inside you dropped them to the ground and hobbled to the small bucket of cleaning supplies that you kept, since really none of the cleaners that Tony had hired even knew that this room was here. Pressing an arm against the glass, you used your other to begin to wipe away what you could reach. As luck, or your recent lack of coordination would have it, you began to tip off balance, dropping the cloth to the ground to catch yourself; before you had a chance to grab the bar, Bucky had appeared behind you with strong arms gripping your waist as you fell back into him.
"And what, exactly, do you think you're doing?"
"The mirror was dirty," you replied, trying to sound innocent, "so I thought I'd give it a quick cleaning."
"You thought you'd try to balance on one leg without your crutches and reach over your head without anything to keep you from tipping over when your plan failed miserably?"
"Yeah, sounds about right."
Bucky released you slightly enough to turn you to face him, huffing with disbelief and disappointment when he looked down at you. Even though you knew that he was angry that you would put yourself in this position, you could tell in his eyes that he understood. He wasn't the best at being out of commission when he was on the injured list not so long ago, so he got it; it didn't mean that he was about to like it, however.
"You're ridiculous, (Y/N). Don't you think that risking yourself over a mirror might not be the best idea? If you're so eager to get back into action, this is probably precisely the wrong way to do it."
"I know," you agreed, "but I'm going a little crazy. This stupid leg is taking too long. I usually come down here to blow off some steam, and I can't even do that."
"I'll dance with you."
"I'm not really the best partner right now, Buck. I can barely walk, much less dance."
"I'll hold you, come on," he replied softly, pulling you up so your injured leg was against him with your foot on his, leaving your other able to move with him. "We can do this, right? If it's this important to you, I want to make it work."
"You're too good to me."
"I know," he smirked, "but that's because I don't deserve you and I have to be sure you stick around." With his metal arm around your waist, he gently lifted you slightly off the ground and moved the two of you to the center of the floor. "FRIDAY, how about something slow so I don't drop my girl, but nothing boring, if you don't mind?"
"You're giving her a lot of leeway," you smiled, waiting to hear what the A.I. would select. A few seconds later, the music began and you couldn't have chosen better yourself. Bucky began to sway gently at first, looking down at you with a playful glimmer in his eyes before holding your waist and dipping you back with a soft and lingering kiss against your throat.
When your baby leaves you all alone
And nobody calls you on the phone
Ah, don't you feel like crying?
Don't you feel like crying?
Well here I am my honey
Oh, come on you cry to me.
"Great choice, FRIDAY," you murmured, allowing him to slowly pull you back up, his lips meeting yours. Both of his arms were holding your waist now, with your arms around his neck, both of you swaying together even though he was carrying most of your weight on his own; his movements were so smooth and looked so easy, that if anyone were watching they would never have known.
Naturally, someone was watching. A quick rap of knuckles against the window snapped the two of you from your focus on each other, only to see Sam again, ever the overprotective friend. "Hey," he snapped, his muffled voice barely carried through the glass, "what are you doing? Get off that leg, (Y/N)!"
A low growl built up in Bucky's chest; he closed his eyes for just a moment, gathering himself before releasing you and making sure that you could stand on your own. "Be right back. FRIDAY, could you pause for a sec?"
"Of course, Mr. Barnes."
The smile on his face dropped and he turned towards Sam, who in turn straightened his posture and took on a look of pure fear as he began to back away. "Yeah, you better run," Bucky mumbled quietly to himself, breaking into a near-sprint. It took only seconds to catch Sam, of course, but when he did they were out of sight and all you heard were a few slams and you felt a shake in the floor before Bucky appeared again.
"Okay, now where were we?"
"What did you do?"
"I made it very, very clear to your best pal that he would be an idiot to think that I would do anything that would risk hurting you."
Well nothing could be sadder
Than a glass of wine, all alone
Loneliness, loneliness, it's such a waste of time
Oh-oh yeah
You don't ever have to walk alone, oh you see
Oh come on, take my hand and baby won't you walk with me?
The music began again and his arms were immediately around you just as they were before you were interrupted, but now you were even closer together. Bucky pressed his hips against yours, moving in rhythm and sliding his hand slowly down your thigh to cup it behind your knee, very gently lifting your weaker leg up to wrap around him. "Is this okay?"
"Stop worrying. It's perfect."
"The only thing perfect in here is you, doll."
Your hands rested against his chest as you moved, slowly moving to graze over the ridge of his collarbone with a whisper of a touch, feeling the bounding heartbeat of his pulse as your fingers slid around each side of his neck, and finally into his hair with a gentle grip. With each movement, you peppered his skin with warm kisses, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind and the feel of a shiver beneath your hands.
Bucky's hands were no more still than yours, finding their way under your shirt and lifting it up and over your head when you obliged and released him to lift your arms. His fingertips barely connected to you as they skimmed their way up your body, but the sensation was even more breathtaking than if he had; when you closed your eyes with a low hum and he felt your knees weaken next to him, he decided that maybe this wasn't the place to be. With a quick shift of his stance and a swing of his arm, you were lifted from the ground and fully in his hold.
"FRIDAY," he panted, finding it hard to catch his breath as his heart continued to race, "we're taking this upstairs."