Chapter Six

Bad Decisions

*Bucky's POV*

Steve's been rubbing his temple for a couple minutes now and I'm impatiently waiting for the speech he's going to make. "You did what, Buck?"

"I told her we could pretend it never happened. Look, I don't know what else I was supposed to do. She wouldn't be taken seriously as a journalist if she..." I struggle to find the words for whatever the hell we are...were...could be. Dammit. "...dated her first big interview subject!" I defend my actions as Steve stares at me, deadpan.

"Did she say that? Verbatim?" He questions and finally releases his temple. I grind my teeth together and Steve sighs. "No, she didn't. What the fuck, man?" Worry and irritation rise up in me at Steve's words. "A gorgeous girl kisses you, manages to actually like your dumbass, and you send her away? Damn, you've lost your game in a hundred years."

"I already feel like a prick, punk. Just tell me what to do about it." I specify, shoving my hands in my sweatpants pockets dejectedly. After Steve got home from convincing Natasha not to just kill Jim, although I wouldn't have minded, I told him what happened. He'd immediately sat down at the breakfast table where we both still sit as I wait for him to fix this.

"I think you screwed it up and now you need to fix it." He advises unhelpfully and stands with a heavy sigh. When he passes by me he pats my shoulder. "You don't want to lose this girl, Buck." Steve says before walking into his room and collapsing onto his bed. I can clearly hear the thunk. Groaning, I put my head in my hands, shoving my fingers through my hair like you did hours ago.

"Ugh, shit."

*Catherine's POV*

The ride home is quiet and uncomfortable. First, the cab I flagged down smells faintly like vomit from a crazy night past, but also because I feel slightly like a ditched prom date. Pulling my shirt up over my nose and mouth, I take a deep breath and drown in Bucky's scent. Bar soap, spice, and something bitter swirls in my nose before I realize what I'm doing and drop the fabric. As soon as we reach my apartment I nearly throw the money at the driver before jumping out of the car. I head up to my place and shut the door with a sigh.

"No place like home, I guess." I mutter and lock the door before heading to my couch, grabbing my laptop from under the cushions before sitting down. I do the only thing that really makes sense to me and that I'm good at; I write. Thankfully, I remembered to take the notes from talking with Bucky from his apartment and they're more than enough to get me started. Words usually come relatively easy to me, but no words have ever flown into my mind and through my fingers as quickly as the words to describe Bucky Barnes. I work well into the evening until my fingers ache and I'm about to throw up from all the coffee I've been drinking. Like a drunk sloth, I move my shit out of the way and unfold my couch into my bed, then snuggle down into it. Falling asleep is easy with the smell of Bucky all around me from his clothes but sleeping through the night is a bit harder. My brain keeps me awake, as well as burgeoning nightmares, so when Adrian calls and invites me out; I go.

* * * * * * * *

"You're here!" Adrian shouts as soon as I enter the club, fighting through the throngs of swaying people to reach me and reel me to the bar.

"I'm not going to ditch the person who keeps me alive." I tease and see realization appear on his face.

"Ah, yes. I took the liberty of ordering you a cocktail that tastes like your usual coffee. You're welcome." He says as he hands the glass to me. Eagerly I take it and drink a sip, groaning in ecstasy.

"God, I love you. When are you going to marry me?" I question and he laughs, wrapping an arm around my waist so we don't lose each other.

"Grow a dick and we'll discuss it. Anyways, where is that fine piece of ass you were meeting at the coffee shop? Tell me you've sunken your teeth into him already." Adrian asks playfully, but the mention of Bucky sobers me all too quickly. He notices and his bright smile darkens. "Oh, honey. What happened?" I'm already shaking my head when he asks.

"Not a dish night. Get me drunk, Adrian." I request. His gold eyes search mine, then he nods.

"Yes ma'am." He agrees and smacks the bar, requesting shots for the both of us. The club is loud, dark, and hot, but once I have a couple shots and Adrian pulls me out onto the floor I forget all of it. When Adrian spins me out and a dark-headed man takes my hand, I exchange Adrian for him. Adrian doesn't mind. Soon, he's wrapped around a caramel haired guy with a tattoo peeping out from under the collar of his tank. The man I dance with has long, dark hair and is built like a truck, reminding me of another man I know. His eyes are a deep emerald green that are gorgeous, but I can't help but wish for blue. Although, when he invites me to go out with him I follow. We end up in the alley beside the bar with our tongues down each other's throats. He's a good kisser, though I'm sure mine are sloppy and lack finesse. Strangely, I feel nothing. No spark, no heat, no anything. I press my hands against his shoulders and he stops, looking at me quizzically.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I can't do this." I tell the poor guy and it takes a minute for the words to sink in before he backs away.

"Right...okay. Do you need me to walk you anywhere? To your car, back into the club?" The stranger asks me kindly and it shocks me, so I just shake my head. He nods once and walks right back into the club, leaving me in the dark alley. Sighing, I head to the parking lot to find Adrian's car is gone.

"Aw, damn." I murmur and look at the street. This club is surprisingly out of the way and it took an extra ten bucks to get my taxi to drop me off here. There's no way I'll get another. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck." I chant before diving into my bra and fishing out my phone. Scrolling through the contacts I get more and more nervous. There are only two names that I can call and there's no way in hell I'm calling him. Pressing the number and tapping my foot on the gravel, I wait for an answer. I breathe a sigh of relief when he answers. "Steve?"

"Hey, what's going on? Is something wrong?" He asks instantly.

"Not exactly, but I could I ask a big favor?" I question in my sweetest voice. "I, uh, I'm kind of drunk in a parking lot with no cabs. Could you pick me up, please?" As I ask I wince, knowing it's a big favor.

"Drunk?" He asks and his tone is comical.

"Yes, it happens after drinking a lot and not being a super soldier." I sass, grinning when he laughs.

"Thanks. Tell me where you are and I'll be there." He tells me and it warms my heart. I think about it a moment before remembering the address. "Alright, see you soon."

"Wait, wait, wait, Superboy." Silence fills the line as he does exactly that. "Uh, don't tell Bucky." I murmur and once again the line is quiet.

"Too late for that, doll. I'm coming." Bucky answers before the line goes dead. Frowning, I put the phone back into my bra and walk back to the bar doors. Twenty minutes later two motorcycles tear into the place, waking me up from my almost slumber. I squint as a blurry shape makes its way over to me, but don't recognize him until he speaks.

"What the fucking hell were you thinking?" He hisses at me rudely while I continue trying to focus on his face.

"Buck, she's obviously drunk. Take it easy." Steve says as he walks up behind him. I point a shaky arm at him.

"Liar. You shouldn't have brought Mr. High and Mighty here." I think I say, really, everything is fuzzy including my hearing.

"Sorry, you were on speaker when I picked up the phone." He explains and I groan.

"Steeeeeeve. No. No, no, no. You tell people when they're on speaker, Steve. It's a rule, oldie." I enlighten him while he smiles bewilderedly at me.

"God. Alright, you're going home." Bucky states and swoops down, picking me up bridal style out of sheer impatience. I stare up at his face, surrounded by the velvet navy of the night sky, and smile softly.

"I like you." I comment and his stern face softens just a little when he looks down at me. "But you have no clue how to deal with women, do you?" Steve bursts into laughter a little ways behind us as Bucky's eyes widen down at me.

"Steve, shut the fuck up. Head home and I'll take her." He speaks directly to Steve as we reach his motorcycle. He puts me on it and gets on behind me, encasing me in him. Giddy with his closeness, I happily lean back against him.

"You know, this bike makes you like...ten percent hotter." I tell him helpfully and hear him sigh beside my ear.

"You can't move, okay? Stay close to me." He requests and takes my hands, putting them on the handles with his before starting his bike. Honestly, I have no clue why he said it. I have no desire to be anywhere else. Soon we're flying through the streets and my fuzzy brain makes the city lights seem even more like I'm in a blender, but somehow it's pretty. It doesn't take too long before we're back at my apartment and he's carrying me into it. He sets me on my already folded-out bed before looking in all my cabinets before finding meds and a glass. When he comes back over he has a glass of water and Advil in his hands. "Drink. It'll stave off the hangover in the morning." I drink when he tells me, then set the glass on the bedside table. I put my hands on his cheeks and rub affectionately while he crouches in front of me.

"You are such a pretty person." I compliment sincerely before he catches my wrists and pulls them away.

"Pajama's?" He asks and I point to his sweatshirt I had lain over my kitchen chair. Bucky walks over, grabs it, then comes back. Carefully, he slips off my hoochie heels and sets them aside. Then, he slips the hoodie on me. "Can you take your dress off?"

"It zips." I tell him and pop up, swaying a little on my feet. His hands instantly steady me.

"Okay. Turn around and I'll do it for you." He offers and a nervous giggle slips out of my mouth.

"No, no, no. It zips down the front." I lift the sweatshirt and point to the golden zipper all the way down the front. "I can't do it. If I," hiccup, "bend over I'll fall over." My explanation seems to make sense because Bucky huffs and runs a hand through his hair, clenching his fist on the back of his neck.

"Okay. Stay as still as you can." He tells me and holds my sweatshirt up to find the zipper, then once again lets it fall around his hand. Slowly, he unzips my skintight dress, his eyes never leaving mine as the sound of the zipper fills the room. His hand is a constant pressure down my body and leaves my skin feeling like it's burning where he's touched. Finally, it's done and the dress falls to the floor. He gently sits me back on the bed before scooping it up and putting it on the kitchen chair, mumbling something about not even fitting it on his thigh.

"Tired, Bucky." I tell him as drowsiness hits me like a truck. In an instant he's back at my side and pulling the covers down for me. After tucking me in, he pauses for a moment before brushing my hair back with a hand. My eyes flutter closed at the tender movement and claim his hand in mine.

"You're such a fucking troublemaker. Christ." He whispers before planting a kiss on my forehead. I hum quietly, too tired to really respond. I fall asleep with his hand still in mine.