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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[from_the_outside]

Sharon makes a slightly grumpy sound and mumbles into the pillow, then surfaces, blinking bleary eyes at him. They don't clear right away, but the smile that comes to her lips when she sees him is as sweet as it is drowsy.

"Morning," she agrees, tired. "Sleep okay?"

[nerves_of_ice]

That smile warms him from the inside out, and he answers it with a gentle one of his own. "Uh-huh. You?"

[from_the_outside]

"Like a rock."

She doesn't even remember dreaming. "You're very comfortable."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Glad to hear it." He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, brushing his fingers over her cheek.

"Want to sleep a little longer? Or do you want me to make coffee?"

[from_the_outside]

"Coffee sounds good," she says. She can always nap later, while she's trying to figure out what to do with herself once he leaves.

Sharon shifts in the puddle of blankets. "I can make it."

[nerves_of_ice]

"I don't mind. Unless you'd rather I didn't poke around your kitchen too much," he amends, with a hint of ruefulness.

[from_the_outside]

"I really don't think you'll unearth any deep dark secrets of mine in the kitchen," she says, amused even though her voice is still gritty with sleep. "But you're my guest, so I should make the coffee."

Sharon leans to kiss his shoulder. "But you can come keep me company if you want."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Okay." Bucky cups the back of her head with his hand and leans in to kiss her good morning.

[from_the_outside]

She kisses him back, then smiles. "Well, I wasn't going to subject you to my morning breath," she teases. "But..."

One more kiss, and then she starts pushing her way out of bed. "Any particular way you like your coffee?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Black's fine," he says, rolling to his feet and starting to gather his clothes. "I'm a simple guy."

[from_the_outside]

"Oh yeah?"

Simple guy, complicated past.

And present, really. She tugs on a pair of soft pajama shorts and a tank top and waits for him before heading back out into the living area of her apartment.

The coffee maker lives under a cabinet by the sink; she grabs the carafe and begins filling it with water. "Are you hungry?" she asks. "I don't have a lot here, but there's some cold cereal, or I could scramble some eggs."

[nerves_of_ice]

He leans against the counter, watching her. "What do you usually do in the morning?" he asks. "What would you do if I wasn't here?"

[from_the_outside]

"On a Saturday? Still be sleeping, probably."

She pours the water into the coffee maker, then pulls out the canister that holds the grounds and measures some into the filter. "Coffee. Go for a run, maybe. Or do some errands. Potentially get called in to work."

[nerves_of_ice]

Bucky narrows his eyes. "You don't eat breakfast?"

[from_the_outside]

"Um..."

Does she? She's never hungry when she first wakes up, and then work usually takes over immediately after. "I'll make a shake sometimes after going for a run."

[nerves_of_ice]

He lets out a long, slow sigh, and walks over to wrap an arm around her from behind, gently. He tips his head against hers and murmurs into her hair, "Would you eat if I made you something?"

Not that he's any great shakes as a cook, but eggs he can manage without burning them. Probably.

[from_the_outside]

"Would I eat if you made me breakfast?" she asks, trying to wrap her mind around the mental image. "Sure."

She tips her head back, trying to look at him, amused and touched at the same time. "Trying to make sure I don't starve?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Maybe," he drawls. "Sounds like you might need a little help on that front."

He lets her go and wanders over to investigate the fridge. "How do you feel about scrambled eggs and toast?"

[from_the_outside]

"Just toast is fine, if you want to make it easy. And I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself, you know," she says, turning to watch him move across her kitchen. "I do it every day."

[nerves_of_ice]

"I know that, it's just..." He trails off there and turns back to look at her.

"Would you rather I didn't?"

[from_the_outside]

"No," she says, immediately. She's teasing, but he isn't, and she drops it quickly, not wanting to hurt his feelings. Sharon pads barefoot across the kitchen floor and puts her arms around his waist, squeezing him briefly.

"I'm just teasing you, baby. I think it's sweet. I'd love it if you made something."

[nerves_of_ice]

He puts his arms around her in turn and smiles down at her.

"Okay. Just thought I should be sure. After all, I'm interrupting your routine."

[from_the_outside]

"My routine could stand a little interruption," she promises, then reaches one hand past him to open the refrigerator and take out the milk, leaning up to kiss him as she does.

[nerves_of_ice]

He kisses her back, then catches the fridge door and reaches for the eggs. It takes a little searching to find the bread and a skillet, but eventually he's set up in front of the cooktop.

[from_the_outside]

The coffee burbles, nearly ready, as he's setting up. Sharon watches with open interest and a little amusement. "Old school, huh?" she asks, her smile twitching.

Somehow it's just never occurred to her to toast bread in a pan. She reaches down two mugs, then searches out her sugar and a half-empty canister of cinnamon as she waits for the coffee to finish.