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.

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[nerves_of_ice]

“I could have, but I thought that would be rude,” he says, a little dryly - even as something in his gut turns over at the sight of her relief. Then again, why should she trust him? He’s good at disappearing.

He shakes it off and smiles, very slightly. “Sure. I’ll take some of whatever you’re having yourself.” Bucky glance around before looking back at her, his gaze drawn like a compass needle to north.

“Nice place. Really nice.”

[from_the_outside]

"Thanks."

Whatever she's having. Her thoughts go blank for a second, before she remembers a bottle of chilled white wine in the fridge. She moves to the kitchen, tipping her head for him to follow her, and reaches down two wine glasses.

Two. When was the last time she needed to take down two? She's not sure she has, here. "I found an agent to help me get it while I was still in the States. Home sweet home, for now."

She uncorks the bottle with a pop and pours out a measure into each glass, then picks them up and comes closer to him, close enough to have to look up into his face, as she offers it. "Here."

Very softly, she adds: "Thank you for coming."

[nerves_of_ice]

He drifts into the kitchen after her and leans against the counter while she pours the wine. Bucky accepts the glass she offers and lightly touches it to hers, causing a faint bell-like chime.

“Thanks for inviting me,” he murmurs. “I was careful coming in. No one saw me. You’re safe.”

[from_the_outside]

She huffs a faint laugh and sips at her wine. "Good," she says. "Although I'm more worried about your safety than mine."

To be honest, the trust he's showing in her just by showing up – when this could all have been a long con and he could have been walking into an apartment packed full of Task Force agents – leaves her almost breathless. "Oh, and – "

Sharon reaches past him to the paper bag on the counter and draws out the beautiful purple-and-smoke throw, folded nicely. She sets it down on top of the crinkling paper bag and smiles at him. "For later. Don't forget."

[nerves_of_ice]

“You shouldn’t be.” Her entire life could be destroyed if anyone found out - about any of it, he guesses, but especially this. The Winter Soldier, welcomed as a friend?

He shakes his head at the very thought and looks to the throw. Something complex and almost longing passes over his face, and he shifts the wineglass to his left hand so he can touch the fabric with his right before he looks back at her.

“Thanks.”

[from_the_outside]

"And yet I am."

She watches as he reaches to touch the soft wool, the rich colors. "You're welcome," she murmurs, and shakes her head, very slightly, and shifts a little closer as she reaches to set her hand gently at his side.

"It's the first thing I've seen you pick. I couldn't resist."

[nerves_of_ice]

“Is it?” The question is very soft, and he stays still under her hand, his eyes searching hers.

[from_the_outside]

"Yeah."

Aside from the framing of their meetings – Thessaloniki, the Spinnerei – he's had her choose almost everything else. She hadn't quite picked up on the pattern in Greece, but here, when he actually expressed an opinion, it finally clicked. "And it was a good choice, so..."

So she bought it. Because he deserves something nice. Something he likes. And like he said, he's trying to remember how to be a person again. Maybe that includes picking things out for himself.

Her thumb runs very gently over his side before she pulls her hand back again.

[nerves_of_ice]

He reaches to catch her fingers as she lifts her hand, the corner of his mouth quirking up into something wry.

“You’re pretty observant.” He sounds rueful.

[from_the_outside]

"It's part of the gig."

She curls her fingers around his, studying that wry cast to his expression. "What's wrong?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He shakes his head and takes a sip of wine.

“Nothing new,” he says, simply. “It’s all right.”

[from_the_outside]

She's not sure how that could be true, given the look on his face, but she is sure she doesn't want to push.

Maybe she shouldn't have brought it up at all. She nods and sips her own wine, marveling a little that he's here in her kitchen, her apartment, after a month of wondering and worrying.

Her smile crooks, slightly. "Is it cheesy to say this seems too good to be true?"

[nerves_of_ice]

“Not as far as I’m concerned.” He’s acutely aware of the warmth of her hand in his, of her breath stirring the air between them.

“I keep wondering if this is a dream.”

[from_the_outside]

"Me too."

She shifts her hand to lace their fingers together, enjoying the thrill of electricity that runs along her arm and into her chest as she does. "I know you're taking a big risk for me. I just want you to know... I appreciate it."

[nerves_of_ice]

“You’re taking a bigger one. You have to realize that.”

He holds himself carefully still, even as his breath catches for an instant when she twines her fingers with his.

[from_the_outside]

"Not from where I'm standing."

What's the worst that could happen to her? She loses her job, has to answer to the authorities?

He'd get thrown in jail for the rest of his life. And that's the best case scenario.

She tugs lightly on his hand and tips her head towards the squashy, comfortable couch in the living room. "Come sit with me?"

[nerves_of_ice]

Bucky nods, and lets himself be led across the room to sit beside her on the couch.

“It’s nice,” he says again, watching her as though she might vanish at any moment.

[from_the_outside]

"I didn't pick most of it," she admits, curling her legs up beneath her, her knees nudging his leg. "It came furnished."

It is nice, but it's really just a place to sleep. She hadn't been kidding before when she said she didn't have a life outside work. She glances around the room, then runs a light hand over the green throw, now on the back of the couch, then smiles at him. "Better with company."

[nerves_of_ice]

He makes a quiet sound of agreement and sets his wineglass down so that he can reach to brush her hair back from her face.

He does it slowly, carefully, afraid to move too quickly and startle her.

[from_the_outside]

Like in the speakeasy, her breath stops as his fingers touch her face, as he carefully pushes a lock of her hair back. The wine in her glass shivers with the faint tremor than runs through her, and her eyes are huge and dark as she carefully tips her head into his touch.

"That feels nice," she murmurs, unable to look away from him.

[nerves_of_ice]

“Do you know how beautiful you are? How vibrant?” he murmurs. “You bring me to my knees, Sharon.”

[from_the_outside]

Her heart jolts in her chest and she takes a last swallow of her wine before slowly putting the glass aside, afraid of dropping it because she's forgotten all about it, moving carefully so he won't stop touching her. "I don't get what you see in me," she murmurs.

Once the glass is safe, she shifts on the couch, wanting to be closer, setting her hand lightly on his chest. It's incredible, feeling the way his heart races beneath her palm; she marvels that it's somehow the effect she has on him. Her own is galloping like a racehorse; her breath is coming quick and shallow. "You know I haven't been able to stop thinking about you?" she tells him.

Not this whole damn month. Not since Franche-Comté, really. Maybe those thoughts hadn't been quite like this, but he'd been in them nonetheless.

[nerves_of_ice]

“I could say the same thing.” Some might wonder if she’s a danger junkie, a thrill seeker, but he’s run into enough of those to know better. She’s special, wonderful, and he can’t fathom the miracle that she’s allowing him to be here, with her. That she wants him to.

She puts her hand on his chest, and he can feel his heartbeat pick up.

“Yeah? Nothing too bad, I hope.”

[from_the_outside]

“Awful things,” she teases, smiling as his heart beats against her palm.

“Mostly about how dumb you were to have ditched me. But I guess I’ve got egg on my face now.”

She should have texted the number, just in case. Should have reached out, if only to let him know she was still thinking about him.

[nerves_of_ice]

He covers her hand with his. “I’m sorry I left you wondering.”