There isn't nearly enough amber liquid in my glass and the tall bottle next to it only has a couple shimmering droplets dancing down the inside of its thin neck. Despite this, I finish off my glass and sigh.

He's late.

A light blue clock on his nightstand tells me it's a little past two in the morning. Hours past when he was supposed to get here, thus my attack on his black label whiskey. While Bucky's room is sparse, he does have the essentials. An immaculately made bed with black nightstands on either side, a half-kitchen with a fully stocked bar, and a small breakfast table that looks out on the softly glowing city. It looks normal enough, but I know what secrets this room holds.

One small handgun under his pillow, another in his nightstand drawer. Two small knives lay under his mattress on his side of the bed and one the size of my forearm on the other. There's a semi-automatic under the breakfast table I'm sitting at and a few 9mm's hidden behind the bottles in the bar. I'm sure there are more I haven't been made aware of, but I feel no need to snoop. Snooping isn't what I'm here for. I sit up straight at the sound of someone unlocking the door and sigh in relief. Finally.

The door opens and his eyes instantly find me, their bright blue illuminated by a shaft of moonlight slicing through the windows. A heavy sigh leaves his lips as he allows the black duffel bag to slip off his shoulder and drop on the floor beside him while the door falls closed behind him. His eyes move to the bottle next to my arm.

"What..." He starts as those heavy black boots step towards me but make no sound, "have I fucking said about drinking my whiskey?" He asks gruffly before coming to a stop just in front of me, his tall frame dwarfing my own.

My fingers tiptoe across the edge of the sadly empty glass. "Not to." I look back to Bucky's face, now shadowed by a curtain of his hair that's fallen forward from behind his ears. "I figured it was your punishment for being late."

Bucky's hand instantly grabs my chin. "Smart talking too, huh?" The pad of his thumb skims my bottom lip as I stare up at him. "Missed that."

My lips quirk up and his gaze softens. "How'd the mission go?" I ask quietly and a heavy sigh slips from his mouth. With another swipe across my lips, he walks to the far wall and presses a hidden button to reveal a small armory. Slowly and carefully, he starts taking apart the weaponized parts of his outfit.

"Fine. Long." He responds and I stand from my place to move closer to him. I sit on what's usually his side of the bed and just wait. Another sigh leaves him when he turns around, now just in pants, and a black t-shirt. His black and gold arm glints in the moonlight as he walks over to me and allows the obsidian appendage to raise and caress my cheek with the lightness of a feather. "Do you really want to talk about the mission?" He questions and my hand reaches up to bring his to my lips.

I press a feather light kiss to his thumb and his eyes shut a moment. "We both know why I'm here. What do you need?" I answer and once again just wait.

Blue eyes open again and glow silver in the moonlight. "Heat." He answers simply and I nod, keeping his hand in mine and guiding him into the bathroom. He shuts the door behind us as I turn on the faucet as hot as it'll go, then let it run for a bit in the chasm-like tub. Turning back around, I carefully help him undress. Sliding the fabric up his warm, scarred skin and over his head and arms. There are a few new marks from this past mission and his eyes shut as I christen them with a gentle brush of my fingers and lips. I leave him for a moment to plug the tub and let the steaming water start to fill it, then come back and unbuckle his belt. Slow and careful, I slide his underwear off with his pants before tossing the small pile in the hamper. Now there's no remnant of the him from the mission. It's just him and I.

"Where do you want me?" I ask him softly. Everything is soft with him right now, as long as that's what he wants.

His hands rest on my hips over his large t-shirt I stole and he gathers the fabric gently in his fists. "With me." He answers and tugs on the fabric for permission. My arms lift and he slides the fabric up, then off. A soft sigh leaves him as if he hasn't seen me in months instead of just a week. A soft chuckle falls from my lips at his soft sound of objection when I leave him to turn the water off. Next, I wiggle my underwear off and set it with the shirt on the counter. When I turn back around, I gently take his hands in mine before he steps in. Air hisses past his teeth the minute his toe hits the water and I can't keep a smile off my face. "Laughing at me, doll?" He murmurs gruffly and I allow myself to fill the space with the soft sound. He smiles as we release the hold on one another so he can lower himself in.

"Maybe a bit." I admit and snag a washcloth off the rack, tossing it at his face. My eyebrows raise and he leans forward, words not necessary after so long looking after the other. I move behind him and rest my hands on his broad shoulders. His dripping hands lay on top of them as I step into the water and while he hissed, I moan as I sink into the hot silk. Once I'm settled into the water, his hands reach down and gently grasp my ankles to wrap them around him. I lean back and he leans back with me, resting his dark head on my shoulder while my arms wrap around his neck and lay languidly on his chest. My hands snatch the washcloth from the water and just gently rub the heated water over his chest. It's sweltering in the bathroom from the heated water and after a minute, Bucky releases a long, relieved sigh.

This is a familiar pattern with us now. He calls me on his way home from a mission and I wait in his room until he gets back. No matter the time. I ask what he needs and he tells me. After a mission somewhere cold, a place that reminds him of a metal box he was constantly forced into, he'll usually request heat. This is the best way for him to feel it all around him so he knows that this is his reality, that he is himself and I'm here with him. This must've been a rougher mission since he wants me all around him. That's usually when he's afraid of his hands, forgets that they can be tender despite the tenderness he always exhibits with me. Except when I ask him not to.

I lift a wet hand and brush it over his hair, repeating the motion again and again. Dip, lift, brush, dip, lift, brush. Until his hair is decently wet and his hands are now running up and down my legs, thumbs pressing into my calves soothingly with each swipe. I turn and press my lips to his temple before just resting my head against his. A rumble shivers through his chest in contentment and my lips lift against his skin. "This mean you forgive me for drinking your whiskey?" I question teasingly and this time his chest rumbles with laughter.

"Mm, buy me 'nother and I'll think bout it." He responds and I slap his chest in retaliation. "Come 'round." He requests and sits up. Shaking my head, I hold out a hand and let him tug me through the water, slipping past the porcelain edge into his lap. He decides he wants me against him, so he turns me around and pulls me against him just as we were before, but opposite. His hand also slips the washcloth out of my hands and rubs it over my stomach. I rest my head back and lay my arms on his thighs caging me, hands over his knees. A soft sigh leaves me. His long arms can reach more than mine could and he takes time roving around my stomach and chest. "Gonna admit you missed me, doll?" He questions and brushes his lips over my ear.

I scoff. "I always miss you, dumbass. That's why I wait for you." I respond and feel him smile.

"Sometimes I think maybe you get tired of waiting. You tell me if you do, hm?"

I turn and lean to the side so I can see his face. "You kidding me, Barnes?" I question and his brows furrow at my sharp tone. "Do you think I'm some 1940's girl, desperately waiting for her man to get home? If I wanted someone else, I'd get someone else. I wait for you and will continue waiting for you because I don't. Shut the fuck up with that self-pitying bullshit."

He blinks in surprise before a slow, amused smile creeps across his lips. "Won't make the mistake again, doll." He swears and I relax my head back into its place, letting him rain kisses from the shell of my ear to my neck.

"Damn straight."

*A/N*
Romantic baths together are just *chef's kiss* ❤️❤️❤️

Keep reading, lovelies!! :)