verb.
To fall back under pressure. To shrink back physically or emotionally.
noun.
The kickback of a gun upon firing.
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It takes a stubborn mind to cling to their humanity when the world seeks to strip it away.
It takes a desperate soul to reach f...
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It was so difficult, not to talk about it. Everything that had been said and everything that remained unspoken.
He hadn't let her go. Not until her eyes had began to grow heavy, as they swayed gently in the middle of the bar. Until her head had begun to slide from its position on his chest, where he held her so securely in his arms. She hadn't wanted to let go, but her loosening muscles and long, slow blinks made the decision for her.
Gentle, strong hands had guided her through the familiar motions of locking up the bar. Fingertips pressed lightly to her back had steadied her as they climbed the stairs together, all the way to her front door.
She had wanted to ask him to come in, to stay, just to have him nearby. To have his warm, reassuring presence as close as possible – but she knew he would have refused. They had to be careful.
Still, he had smiled at her, the expression tinged with sadness and something deeper that she didn't dare put a name to. He had slowly brushed his knuckles over her cheek as he had done downstairs, watching as she had leaned into the touch as if she were starved of it. He had murmured his goodnight, and a promise that he would see her in the morning. He was always so careful to let her know that he would come back, after the one time he hadn't.
And then she had been left alone – to collapse into her empty bed and stare up at the ceiling, unsure of whether she wanted to laugh or cry. To smile because she had spent an evening locked in the arms of the man she was crazy for, because he had all but told her outright that he felt the same way – or to sob out her heartbreak and anger at her past self for ensuring that they could never act on those feelings.
In the end, she managed a little of both before she fell into an exhausted sleep.
They didn't speak about it the next morning, but what they had said still hung in the air like an echo that wouldn't fade. It was present in the way Bucky's casual touches felt more intimate – in the way he laid his hand on her back as he leaned over where she sat at the breakfast bar sipping her coffee, or how his eyes followed her as she scrambled around the room getting ready for work. It was enough to almost let Kat believe that there were ways they could still express how they felt, without giving in to a level of intimacy that could cost them everything.
It would have been so easy though, as Bucky handed Kat the keys to her bike, his fingers closing around hers and holding her there for a second so they could just look at one another, it would have been so easy to press up onto her toes and lay a light kiss on his lips.
She didn't, of course. But she thought about it.
"See you later?" She managed to breathe out after a second of staring vacantly at his lips, feeling him squeeze her fingers gently before releasing them. It wasn't what she had wanted to say, the words didn't mean enough.
"See you later." He agreed with an affectionate smile. Another little promise that he'd be there, and another smile that stayed with her throughout the morning.
