Leipzig AU: the choices we make

[nerves_of_ice]

It's a month after Thessaloniki when he slips the unmarked, unstamped postcard in the mail at Sharon Carter's apartment.

(It had taken him the entire month to decide to reach out. He'd spent most of the time burying himself in his self-imposed work and not allowing himself to think about anything other than the mission. Eventually, he'd realized that it wasn't working, and that there was only one way to find out what he now needs to know, even if he can't admit even to himself exactly why he does.)

Of course there's always the chance she'll think it's just an advertisement and ignore it. If she does, he'll try again with something a little more obvious before deciding she's not interested in reconnecting. Still, he thinks she's clever enough to catch it, and to decode the message, which isn't that subtle when it comes down to it: time, place, location.

It takes far less than a minute to pick the lock on the mailbox security panel - two seconds, maybe three, and he's able to pull it open, drop the card on top of her mail, and secure it once more.

Bucky makes his way from her apartment back down the Berlin street quickly and quietly, cap pulled down to hide his face, and disappears into the crowd.

Comments

[from_the_outside]

"I could hang on," she says, amused, half teasing and half not.

Although, honestly, if he doesn't want her doing aerials with mending ribs, he probably won't be so keen on her riding a motorcycle without a helmet.

[nerves_of_ice]

“You could,” he says, slowly - then gives her a quick, teasing smile. “Nice to know you’ve got a backup option, right?”

[from_the_outside]

"I always like a plan B," she agrees, grinning right back at him.

Does she always have one? No. But they're a nice-to-have.

[nerves_of_ice]

The jazz trio begins to file back in from their break and starts setting back up as Bucky tells her, “I hear they can be useful.”

[from_the_outside]

"Rumor has it."

She tips her head towards the band, her smile crooking. "What do you think? Got a few more left in you? Or did you have some other plan for these last forty-five minutes or so?"

[nerves_of_ice]

“I didn’t,” he admits, honestly. “Unless you’d rather walk around for a bit. It’s a nice night.”

[from_the_outside]

"It is," she agrees, and watches him for a moment before coming to a decision. "One more. And then you can walk me to the train station, the long way around. How about that?"

[nerves_of_ice]

“Deal,” he says, smiling. Bucky squeezes her hand and draws her from her seat and back to the dance floor, ready to see what the band comes up with.

[from_the_outside]

The band, refreshed from their break, starts off with an uptempo number that has them swirling around the floor, Sharon pink-cheeked and laughing.

Even without the aerials, she's having the time of her life.

[nerves_of_ice]

He’s adamant about not overstraining her ribs, but that still leaves a lot of room to move - literally - and Sharon’s well able to keep up with faster and fancier footwork. Bucky tosses his hair out of his face and spins her out and back again into the curve of his arm, almost unable to believe this is real.

[from_the_outside]

She makes a mental note to leave the band a significant tip when they leave, because they've been amazing, and this number's no different. She's laughing up into Bucky's face, feeling like she's floating on air as they spin their way around the dancefloor, lithely dodging the one or two other brave couples who have decided to come out.

[nerves_of_ice]

He can tell when the band starts winding up toward the end of the song, and puts a spin on it himself, leading Sharon into a fast set of steps and a spiral that whirls her back to him at the end, ready to pull away with a smile—

—only for the trio to switch it up on him with a transition right into a soft, jazzy tune that’s slow and perfect, and he takes her in his arms instead and moves back into a slower, closer dance.

“One more,” he murmurs. “Just one. Dance one more with me.”

[from_the_outside]

The climax of the song comes and she braces for the end as he spins her into a complicated series of steps –

But then the music shifts and he doesn't let her go, only pulls her into his arms, and she goes willingly to her own destruction, folding herself against him,

She can't think when the last time was that she fell so hard and so fast for someone – maybe never. All she knows, as she sets her hand at the nape of his neck and leans her temple against his cheek, is she doesn't want it to end. "I don't want to let you go," she murmurs, her heart beating fast with exertion and nerves.

No matter what he says, she knows there's still a chance that this will be the last time she sees him, and if that's what happens, she's not ready to be done.

"Come with me tonight."

[nerves_of_ice]

As close as they are, he knows there’s no way for her to miss the shiver that runs through him at her soft invitation, the way his arms tighten around her.

A better man would find a way to play it off lightly, to try to keep her from asking something she’s certain to regret.

A better man wouldn’t be here risking her like this in the first place. He’s not a better man. Maybe he never was.

“Sharon,” he whispers. “Sharon. Are you sure?”

[from_the_outside]

His arms tighten around her and he shivers against her and her heart skips and fumbles in her chest, painful, when he says her name.

And asks that question, like she isn't more sure about him than she's ever been about anything. Has been since she rolled the dice and put down her gun in France and came out of that cottage unscathed. "I'm sure."

This close, she murmurs it low, into his ear, as her arm tightens, holds him closer. "Come with me, Bucky."

[nerves_of_ice]

He turns his head a little towards her, breathing in the scent of her hair, taking in every nuance of her tone.

She’s sure, she says, and god, he wants to believe her - has to believe her.

“How can I say no?” he murmurs, with a soft breath that might be a laugh. “Okay. If you want me, you’ve got me. I’ll come with you.”

[from_the_outside]

A rush of heat floods through her at his agreement, and she can't stop her smile as it flickers in and out of life. "Good," she tells him. "Because there's no 'if' about it."

The only thing that's kept her at even a slight remove is the knowledge that there are other people here. Her voice is very soft, almost a whisper. "You have to know I want you."

If it hadn't been obvious before, it surely is now, when she's pressed up against him and she's tried to find small ways to touch him all evening.

[nerves_of_ice]

He keeps his hold on her correct - close, but correct, for public - but traces small circles with his fingers across her back, slow and deliberate.

“You have me,” he promises. “Or will. I can’t stop thinking about you, Sharon. Even though I shouldn’t.”

[from_the_outside]

Just that light touch is almost enough to bring her to her knees. She shivers in his arms and lets her fingertips brush along the edge of his shirt collar, where his hair falls against the nape of his neck. "Shouldn't," she murmurs. "I shouldn't, either."

As if what they were doing before wasn't enough to implode her career, her life, this – this could ruin it.

And she doesn't care. The last thing she wants is for everything to go back to the way it was before Franche-Comté. "But I don't care."

[nerves_of_ice]

Sensation runs through him with a jolt at the feel of her fingers on his skin. He’ll never know where he gets the willpower to lean back and smile at her, his eyes dark with desire he can’t speak.

“Want to get out of here?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

[from_the_outside]

Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are dark as she looks up at him, and her mouth goes dry at what she reads in his expression.

"Like you wouldn't believe," she says, her smile flickering back into life, crooked and anticipatory.

It's amazing how quickly she can go from never wanting to leave to needing to get out of here as fast as they can.

[nerves_of_ice]

He turns her around in one last slow circle, bringing them to the edge of the dance floor.

“Get your things,” he tells her. “Wait for me by the door.”

It won’t take him long to settle up, and he only needs a few moments more than that to make sure the way outside is clear.

[from_the_outside]

Back at the booth, she folds up the paper bag that contains the two woolen throws and her receipt and tucks it into her tote, then shoulders her bag.

She doesn't go right to the door; she stops first by the band and leaves a generous tip, smiling as the musicians wink at her. "Thank you," she tells them, and then heads to stand by the door, waiting.

For her date. Just the thought gives her a little thrill.

[nerves_of_ice]

He returns from the other end of the room, having detoured briefly through the kitchen and alley, and comes to meet her with a slight smile.

“Ready?” he asks, reaching to open the door back into the main bar.

[from_the_outside]

Sharon settles the strap of her tote a little more firmly on her shoulder and smiles at him. "Let's go."

She precedes him through to the main bar and then out into the clear, crisp night, where she breathes deep of the slightly chilly early spring air.

It doesn't do a damn thing to cool her off, especially not when she looks back over and up at him. "Train?" she asks. "Or bike?"