[ He'd gone months and months without settling into his apartment, somehow quietly resistant to letting it become a home, something permanent. The furniture situation is almost comedically sad. And the odds are likely Bucky would've let that go on as long as he could, just dragging his heels and living in this empty limbo — but Daisy had seen his apartment, and that had suddenly cracked open his awareness of what this looked like from the outside. From someone else's eyes. The self-consciousness of it, and knowing that something probably had to change.
And if it's gonna be difficult for them to carve out some alone time on the Bus with all her literal colleagues around, then maybe he's gonna have to spruce up his own home a bit.
Just, y'know. For reasons. ]
doing some home improvement. looks like shit, but at least i'm a bit more of an actual person, i guess. what do you think: +10 points as a functioning adult?
[Any time she gets a text notification she’s always hoping it’s Bucky, and she gets this smile on her face that she didn’t realize was a thing until Jemma pointed it out.
She has to fight back laughter when he sends her a text with a picture of a bed.]
[ If he could dead-eye stare at her in affectionate incredulity for that too-innocent question — as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth — then he would. She knows damn well. ]
realized that someone who literally lives on an actual, honest-to-god plane had a better bedroom setup than i did. decided i didn't want to be showed up like that
anyway. point being, i could do with a housewarming, if you'd ever like to come over. without being chased by terrorists this time. i hear houseplants are customary
[Maybe it would’ve been better for her to have just gone when they were talking, because Daisy spent the next day over analyzing everything.
Still, she kept her word and once he buzzed her into the building made her way up to his door. He mentioned plants but went with vase of daises instead, because yes, she is lame like that.
Her face lit up when he opened the door.]
Hey.
[Does she kiss him or is that weird? She just stands in the doorway, awkwardly holding the vase instead.]
[ At first he's hovering just as awkwardly a foot away from the door, taking her in and unsure what to do — why does this feel so much like he's in high school again, heart in his throat and butterflies in his stomach — but the sight of the vase of daisies is so unexpected, and so goddamn endearing, that Bucky gives a lopsided smile and it breaks through his indecision, sidling him back into motion. He closes the distance and accepts the vase, half-tucking it under an arm while he captures her mouth in a kiss.
It isn't quick or rushed, not just a peck hello. Instead, it's perhaps surprisingly hungry, his mouth hard and insistent against hers, filled with that pent-up energy which comes from having had days now to think about it: savouring the fact that they can do this now, that he's allowed to do this, that they can kiss each other stupid. When they finally break apart, he admits, a little sheepishly: ]
Okay. Yeah. I'd been looking forward to doing that for a while.
[Well, apparently she doesn't have to be one to make that decision. Daisy wasn't stupid, she knew why he had actually invited her over when he showed her a picture of a bed. She also knew there might've been a specific reason as to why he had finally gotten one and it definitely left her with butterflies in her stomach at the mere thought she might've been part of the reason.
Eyes still closed, Daisy inhales shakily once she can actually breathe again. That was a lot more intense than their first kiss and it left her feeling dizzy and wanting more.]
Can't say I haven't been thinking about this since that night on the plane.
[Swallowing thickly, Daisy opens her eyes up just enough to make sure he hadn't left her before she leans back in to kiss him again, leaning up and into him with one hand cupping the side of his face.]
[ Of course she has, just like he has, but Bucky still can't help that smug little grin and she can feel him smiling against her mouth as she kisses him again. His free hand lands somewhere at the small of her back, fingers splayed gently against her spine as he leans in deeper to the kiss. It is so very, very easy to be distracted by Daisy Johnson.
So easy, in fact, that when there's the flicker of tongue between them, he almost loses his grip on the vase. He has to suddenly break away with a muttered Shit, his motions startlingly quick as he catches it again before it can smash on the floor. He holds the vase carefully, with both hands now, sheepish. ]
Okay. Uh. This needs a good home.
[ There's not that many surfaces to choose from; it's the kitchen counter or the one endtable in the living room, and in the end he chooses the latter, setting the vase right in the center. It is now the one lone piece of decoration in the entire room. The mattress itself is lined up in the far corner beneath the windows and close to the balcony door, sheets carefully tucked in (you could practically bounce a coin off it, some military habits still stick), with a stack of novels and a notebook piled next to it. Still a sad sight, but at least it's an improvement from sleeping on hardwood. He's getting there.
And. It suddenly feels so stupidly blunt and telling when the bed is right there, without even the benefit of a door or a bedroom that he'd have to lead her through at some point. The elephant in the room. He's barely accustomed to anyone seeing this apartment at all, let alone sending a daring text which had been the closest thing to a Bucky Barnes Booty Call™. So he fidgets, a finger tapping against the endtable, before he looks back at her. ]
[Feeling him smile, she can’t help but smile back as she laughs.]
Don’t let it go to your head.
[She’s close to wrapping her arms around him when she feels him jerk away and for a second she thinks she’s done something wrong until she realizes he’s almost dropped the vase.
Maybe it’s a good thing he’s focused on that for now, it gives her a second to think about what the hell has happened in the last 24 hours. Letting out a breath, Daisy licks her lower lip as she moves her hair away from her face.
For a guy who hasn’t kissed in close to a century, he definitely hasn’t had a hard time remembering how to. Watching as he looks at the bed, Daisy can see he’s hesitant and she really doesn’t want to push it. Even when he had basically implied as to the reason he invited her over here, and she definitely wouldn’t have come if she wasn’t ready.
Still, it’s been an even longer time for him than it has her.]
[ He's moved over to the kitchen, rummaging in the fridge and the cupboards to check on the stock. ] I've got a sixpack of Brooklyn lager, and some whiskey if that's more your speed.
[ He's already taking out the whiskey and a glass for himself; Bucky drinking beer is a ridiculous sight, thoughtlessly slamming it back like it's water, so liquor is just more expedient. He wishes he weren't this rusty and this nervous, but it's sort of inevitable when it's been this long. It's almost easier once they're already kissing; it's all those moments in-between and finding the right words where he trips over himself. And, like, how is he supposed to stand and what is he supposed to do with his hands right now? He leans against the counter a little awkwardly, setting out their drinks. His metabolism undercuts the effectiveness of the alcohol, but maybe it can loosen him up just a little, summon up some of that liquid courage. ]
[Unlike him, Daisy can get drunk. While she's not against taking the edge off this awkwardness, she's not about to get shit faced and ruin the chance she has here. Stepping over to where he set out their drinks, Daisy takes what she assumes is hers.]
Thanks.
[For a moment she just holds it, as if she's going to say something before thinking better of it and taking a sip of the whiskey. At least she manages to mask a wince? It's not the best she's had, but it'll do.]
So, uh--
Where'd you go to get the mattress?
[God, that was so stupid. As soon as she asks it she regrets how stupid of an ice breaker that was.]
[ While she just cradles her drink, Bucky slugs his back gracelessly, and then immediately starts to pour himself a refill (that metabolism). And he surveys her over that bottle, an eyebrow arched skeptically.
Daisy. That really was a stupid question. But he indulges her: ]
I kept seeing ads on the subway for this thing called Casper, like the ghost, I guess? So I scheduled a nap test and went to try out the mattresses. Lay down in the store in these fake little bedrooms. I dunno what's so special about them, but it felt fine, so I bought one. Carried it home.
[ The employees at the store had asked if he'd wanted delivery, or a second person to help him carry it, but then Bucky had just grabbed the box and walked out without missing a beat. ]
Anyway. It doesn't really matter.
[ Banking sideways, a different question to try to fill up that silence a little: ]
What other furniture do you think I should get? If you had total free rein to decorate this place.
[Her eyebrows shoot up in amusement when he casually explains he carried a mattress home.]
I would’ve loved to have witnessed all the looks you must’ve gotten.
[Daisy takes another sip before placing her glass down on the counter, knowing she should stop before she drinks too much and makes an fool of herself.]
I don’t think I’m the best person to ask for home decor ideas. I lived in a van before I started living on a plane, so—
[Daisy crosses her arms over her chest protectively, fighting the urge to ask him what it is they’re doing. Are they just going to keep dancing around the reason he invited her over?]
What are we doing?
[Well, so much for that.]
We both know you didn’t invite me over for advice on how to spruce up your place. If you changed your mind—
[ And oop, there it is. A flicker of surprise flits across Bucky's face, unaccustomed to having people call him out on his shit quite so bluntly; although thank god for it, because otherwise he'd have danced circles around this all night. ]
I, uh— I didn't change my mind. I just don't really—
[ His head ducks downward, awkwardly, and there's a sudden bashfulness that seems to settle over the man like a shroud. He really hadn't wanted to admit this, but it's sort of unavoidable if she's to have any understanding of why Bucky's being an awkward weirdo. ]
Not to make it weird, but I don't really do this sort of thing. It's been a while. [ Beat. ] Like, a while. And I'm not really sure what the norms are like in this day and age, either. So if I don't... really know what the next steps are, that's— that's not on you, that's on me.
[That was not the answer she was expecting, but now that he’s explained it, it makes perfect sense. She almost feels stupid for not realizing it.]
Oh.
[Maybe it wasn’t the right time to smile, but she can’t help it, it’s endearing. Rounding the counter, Daisy reaches for his glass to set it on the countertop if he’ll let her.]
It’s like riding a bike.
[Daisy bites her lower lip to keep from laughing at a joke that just came to mind, instead reaching for his hand and pulls him in the direction of the bed.]
And you’ll be happy to know anatomy hasn’t changed in 80 something years.
[Maybe her math is off, she never claimed to be good in school.]
[ It's like a tether, a lifeline, as Daisy takes his hand. Relief unclenches a vise in his chest and he snorts a small laugh at her reassurance. ]
Thank god, here I was thinking everyone had grown a second set of arms or something—
[ Because he simply put cannot stop from joking around, even as she's walking backwards and leading him across his own apartment. Bucky trails after her, and as they get closer to the mattress he feels his own anticipation wiring tighter.
She'd been the one to lean in and kiss him first, back on the Bus. He can talk a big game, but when it comes to crossing this particular line, Bucky is skittish, nervous, shy in a way that he finds almost frustrating (once upon a time he had known how to do this, and he hates how distant it's become—).
But he had managed it at the front door — so what difference does it make, he tells himself, just being a few feet away on the other side of the apartment? So he reaches up and his right hand catches Daisy's jaw, running his thumb across the line of her cheek; until he leans in, draws her face closer to his, and kisses her again.
Daisy is more daring than he is, fingers snaring in the neck of his shirt, dragging him towards her. She plants herself on that mattress, and after a moment's hesitation, Bucky joins her, sprawls over her while the kiss turns hungrier. The room is dark enough, the main source of light coming from the kitchen on the other side of the apartment, that it feels like they're disappearing into muted shadows even as their hands tug at their clothes — there's Bucky's hesitation when she gets him shirtless again, the way he's so careful to only touch her with his right arm, to not be too rough with superstrength that's bound to bruise. But the muscle memory does eventually come back to him: remembering what to do with his hands, his mouth, his body, and how to use it for something better than violence.
It is, in the end, a pretty good mattress.
Those tightly-made sheets wind up rumpled by the end of it, the pair of them tangled in the covers, Daisy's chin propped against his chest as it rises and falls with his steady breathing — he catches his breath annoyingly fast, yet another serum side-effect — while his finger runs circles along the curve of her bare shoulder. ]
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→ text.
And if it's gonna be difficult for them to carve out some alone time on the Bus with all her literal colleagues around, then maybe he's gonna have to spruce up his own home a bit.
Just, y'know. For reasons. ]
doing some home improvement. looks like shit, but at least i'm a bit more of an actual person, i guess. what do you think: +10 points as a functioning adult?
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She has to fight back laughter when he sends her a text with a picture of a bed.]
Wow.
...Is that just in the middle of your apartment?
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...don't they?
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What made you decide to finally get a bed?
[As if she doesn't have a clue as to why he could possibly want one.]
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realized that someone who literally lives on an actual, honest-to-god plane had a better bedroom setup than i did. decided i didn't want to be showed up like that
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Not all of us can afford apartments, show off.
Have you tested it out yet? Firm enough?
[🙃]
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haven't got an official verdict yet. could maybe do with getting a second opinion on it
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A reply which she was hoping for.]oh
you want mine?
[
Such a shit.]no subject
hmmm now that you mention it, i dunno, i was thinking maybe the cute brit from the lab
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[ He just had to tease in revenge. ]
anyway. point being, i could do with a housewarming, if you'd ever like to come over. without being chased by terrorists this time. i hear houseplants are customary
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[Not even two seconds later.]
I happen to be free tomorrow night. That work for you?
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i'm always fr[ Don't be a loser, Buck. ]
yeah, more than fine. stop over whenever.
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[Maybe it would’ve been better for her to have just gone when they were talking, because Daisy spent the next day over analyzing everything.
Still, she kept her word and once he buzzed her into the building made her way up to his door. He mentioned plants but went with vase of daises instead, because yes, she is lame like that.
Her face lit up when he opened the door.]
Hey.
[Does she kiss him or is that weird? She just stands in the doorway, awkwardly holding the vase instead.]
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[ At first he's hovering just as awkwardly a foot away from the door, taking her in and unsure what to do — why does this feel so much like he's in high school again, heart in his throat and butterflies in his stomach — but the sight of the vase of daisies is so unexpected, and so goddamn endearing, that Bucky gives a lopsided smile and it breaks through his indecision, sidling him back into motion. He closes the distance and accepts the vase, half-tucking it under an arm while he captures her mouth in a kiss.
It isn't quick or rushed, not just a peck hello. Instead, it's perhaps surprisingly hungry, his mouth hard and insistent against hers, filled with that pent-up energy which comes from having had days now to think about it: savouring the fact that they can do this now, that he's allowed to do this, that they can kiss each other stupid. When they finally break apart, he admits, a little sheepishly: ]
Okay. Yeah. I'd been looking forward to doing that for a while.
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Eyes still closed, Daisy inhales shakily once she can actually breathe again. That was a lot more intense than their first kiss and it left her feeling dizzy and wanting more.]
Can't say I haven't been thinking about this since that night on the plane.
[Swallowing thickly, Daisy opens her eyes up just enough to make sure he hadn't left her before she leans back in to kiss him again, leaning up and into him with one hand cupping the side of his face.]
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[ Of course she has, just like he has, but Bucky still can't help that smug little grin and she can feel him smiling against her mouth as she kisses him again. His free hand lands somewhere at the small of her back, fingers splayed gently against her spine as he leans in deeper to the kiss. It is so very, very easy to be distracted by Daisy Johnson.
So easy, in fact, that when there's the flicker of tongue between them, he almost loses his grip on the vase. He has to suddenly break away with a muttered Shit, his motions startlingly quick as he catches it again before it can smash on the floor. He holds the vase carefully, with both hands now, sheepish. ]
Okay. Uh. This needs a good home.
[ There's not that many surfaces to choose from; it's the kitchen counter or the one endtable in the living room, and in the end he chooses the latter, setting the vase right in the center. It is now the one lone piece of decoration in the entire room. The mattress itself is lined up in the far corner beneath the windows and close to the balcony door, sheets carefully tucked in (you could practically bounce a coin off it, some military habits still stick), with a stack of novels and a notebook piled next to it. Still a sad sight, but at least it's an improvement from sleeping on hardwood. He's getting there.
And. It suddenly feels so stupidly blunt and telling when the bed is right there, without even the benefit of a door or a bedroom that he'd have to lead her through at some point. The elephant in the room. He's barely accustomed to anyone seeing this apartment at all, let alone sending a daring text which had been the closest thing to a Bucky Barnes Booty Call™. So he fidgets, a finger tapping against the endtable, before he looks back at her. ]
You want a drink?
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Don’t let it go to your head.
[She’s close to wrapping her arms around him when she feels him jerk away and for a second she thinks she’s done something wrong until she realizes he’s almost dropped the vase.
Maybe it’s a good thing he’s focused on that for now, it gives her a second to think about what the hell has happened in the last 24 hours. Letting out a breath, Daisy licks her lower lip as she moves her hair away from her face.
For a guy who hasn’t kissed in close to a century, he definitely hasn’t had a hard time remembering how to. Watching as he looks at the bed, Daisy can see he’s hesitant and she really doesn’t want to push it. Even when he had basically implied as to the reason he invited her over here, and she definitely wouldn’t have come if she wasn’t ready.
Still, it’s been an even longer time for him than it has her.]
Uh yeah, sure. What do you have?
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[ He's already taking out the whiskey and a glass for himself; Bucky drinking beer is a ridiculous sight, thoughtlessly slamming it back like it's water, so liquor is just more expedient. He wishes he weren't this rusty and this nervous, but it's sort of inevitable when it's been this long. It's almost easier once they're already kissing; it's all those moments in-between and finding the right words where he trips over himself. And, like, how is he supposed to stand and what is he supposed to do with his hands right now? He leans against the counter a little awkwardly, setting out their drinks. His metabolism undercuts the effectiveness of the alcohol, but maybe it can loosen him up just a little, summon up some of that liquid courage. ]
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[Unlike him, Daisy can get drunk. While she's not against taking the edge off this awkwardness, she's not about to get shit faced and ruin the chance she has here. Stepping over to where he set out their drinks, Daisy takes what she assumes is hers.]
Thanks.
[For a moment she just holds it, as if she's going to say something before thinking better of it and taking a sip of the whiskey. At least she manages to mask a wince? It's not the best she's had, but it'll do.]
So, uh--
Where'd you go to get the mattress?
[God, that was so stupid. As soon as she asks it she regrets how stupid of an ice breaker that was.]
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Daisy. That really was a stupid question. But he indulges her: ]
I kept seeing ads on the subway for this thing called Casper, like the ghost, I guess? So I scheduled a nap test and went to try out the mattresses. Lay down in the store in these fake little bedrooms. I dunno what's so special about them, but it felt fine, so I bought one. Carried it home.
[ The employees at the store had asked if he'd wanted delivery, or a second person to help him carry it, but then Bucky had just grabbed the box and walked out without missing a beat. ]
Anyway. It doesn't really matter.
[ Banking sideways, a different question to try to fill up that silence a little: ]
What other furniture do you think I should get? If you had total free rein to decorate this place.
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I would’ve loved to have witnessed all the looks you must’ve gotten.
[Daisy takes another sip before placing her glass down on the counter, knowing she should stop before she drinks too much and makes an fool of herself.]
I don’t think I’m the best person to ask for home decor ideas. I lived in a van before I started living on a plane, so—
[Daisy crosses her arms over her chest protectively, fighting the urge to ask him what it is they’re doing. Are they just going to keep dancing around the reason he invited her over?]
What are we doing?
[Well, so much for that.]
We both know you didn’t invite me over for advice on how to spruce up your place. If you changed your mind—
I get it. I’ll understand, I just—
Want to know.
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I, uh— I didn't change my mind. I just don't really—
[ His head ducks downward, awkwardly, and there's a sudden bashfulness that seems to settle over the man like a shroud. He really hadn't wanted to admit this, but it's sort of unavoidable if she's to have any understanding of why Bucky's being an awkward weirdo. ]
Not to make it weird, but I don't really do this sort of thing. It's been a while. [ Beat. ] Like, a while. And I'm not really sure what the norms are like in this day and age, either. So if I don't... really know what the next steps are, that's— that's not on you, that's on me.
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Oh.
[Maybe it wasn’t the right time to smile, but she can’t help it, it’s endearing. Rounding the counter, Daisy reaches for his glass to set it on the countertop if he’ll let her.]
It’s like riding a bike.
[Daisy bites her lower lip to keep from laughing at a joke that just came to mind, instead reaching for his hand and pulls him in the direction of the bed.]
And you’ll be happy to know anatomy hasn’t changed in 80 something years.
[Maybe her math is off, she never claimed to be good in school.]
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Thank god, here I was thinking everyone had grown a second set of arms or something—
[ Because he simply put cannot stop from joking around, even as she's walking backwards and leading him across his own apartment. Bucky trails after her, and as they get closer to the mattress he feels his own anticipation wiring tighter.
She'd been the one to lean in and kiss him first, back on the Bus. He can talk a big game, but when it comes to crossing this particular line, Bucky is skittish, nervous, shy in a way that he finds almost frustrating (once upon a time he had known how to do this, and he hates how distant it's become—).
But he had managed it at the front door — so what difference does it make, he tells himself, just being a few feet away on the other side of the apartment? So he reaches up and his right hand catches Daisy's jaw, running his thumb across the line of her cheek; until he leans in, draws her face closer to his, and kisses her again.
Daisy is more daring than he is, fingers snaring in the neck of his shirt, dragging him towards her. She plants herself on that mattress, and after a moment's hesitation, Bucky joins her, sprawls over her while the kiss turns hungrier. The room is dark enough, the main source of light coming from the kitchen on the other side of the apartment, that it feels like they're disappearing into muted shadows even as their hands tug at their clothes — there's Bucky's hesitation when she gets him shirtless again, the way he's so careful to only touch her with his right arm, to not be too rough with superstrength that's bound to bruise. But the muscle memory does eventually come back to him: remembering what to do with his hands, his mouth, his body, and how to use it for something better than violence.
It is, in the end, a pretty good mattress.
Those tightly-made sheets wind up rumpled by the end of it, the pair of them tangled in the covers, Daisy's chin propped against his chest as it rises and falls with his steady breathing — he catches his breath annoyingly fast, yet another serum side-effect — while his finger runs circles along the curve of her bare shoulder. ]
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poss wrap on them bein' cozy? :>