trigger warning: dark themes that may be offensive or upsetting to some readers
trigger warning: sexual content that may be offensive or upsetting to some readers
Marjorie's POV
"Marjorie," Bucky said. "Are you really okay?"
Marjorie had told practically everyone in the tower that she felt fine at least five times already, and had retreated to her room, saying she was tired.
"Yes," Marjorie said firmly. "I'm okay."
And she was. Nothing hurt, and her powers were definitely still there.
She was having more trouble controlling her powers that normal, though. The shadows kept reacting to every small emotion of hers, like they did when she was little. Marjorie couldn't make them stop.
But she was sure it would be better after she rested.
Bucky surprised her by gently pulling her into his lap and loosely hugging Marjorie. "I was so worried about you," he muttered into her neck. "Bruce kept saying that you might not wake up, and I missed you, and I-I didn't even get to tell you that I loved you, and..."
"I love you, too," whispered Marjorie, surprised. That was the first time either of them had said it.
Bucky didn't say anything for a few minutes, but it was the comfortable silence of people who understood and loved each other. Then he broke the silence: "I'm supposed to tell Erik you're awake." He sounded more composed than a few minutes ago.
"Erik? Wait, you told him?" said Marjorie, alarmed.
"Nat did."
Marjorie closed her eyes in dread of what was to come. "Great." Something occurred to her. "You guys met?"
"Yeah," he grimaced.
"How bad was it?"
"Not that bad," he said thoughtfully. "I was hoping the yelling would wake you up."
"Yelling?" asked Marjorie, massaging her forehead, right where the center of the headache was.
"It could have been worse," Bucky said flippantly. "It was mostly just 'stay away from Marjorie' and 'if you hurt her, I'll make you strangle yourself.'"
Marjorie sighed and flopped down on her back on her bed. "Can you tell him to come tomorrow?"
Bucky frowned. "He's not going to like that."
"Just tell him I'm resting," she urged. "Say I have a headache."
"Do you have a headache?" He seemed concerned.
"Just a little bit," she assured. "Nothing major."
Marjorie still couldn't believe that she had missed three days.
Sure, in the long run, it wasn't a lot, but lots of things could change in three days. Anything could have happened.
Marjorie hoped she hadn't missed any Taylor Swift news. She resolved to check Taylor's social media as soon as her headache went away.
Wait...
"What happened to my phone?"
"What?" said Bucky.
"My. Phone."
He stared at her, then rolled his eyes. "It's right here." He handed her her phone.
"My preciousssss," said Marjorie, cradling the electric.
"I don't understand Gen Z's attraction to the digital world," muttered Bucky, eyeing her suspiciously. "I got that reference, though."
Marjorie went back to pondering:
Three days.
Wow.
At least nothing important was scheduled.
But, still. Three days.
She bolted upright. "I just realized," she explained to an alarmed Bucky. "I haven't taken a shower in three days."
~
The timing could have been worse, thought Marjorie as she left the bathroom, staring to braid her still wet hair. At least I wasn't on my period.
She tried not to imagine that particular horror.
"Hi, doll," said Bucky. (Her heart still skipped a beat every time she realized he was in her room. Waiting for her!) "Do you want help with that?"
"With what?"
"Your hair," he said like it was obvious.
Marjorie eyed him speculatively. "Can you braid hair?"
"Yeah, who can't?"
This seemed like a genuine question.
"Sure, you can braid my hair," allowed Marjorie, moving to sit on his lap.
"How's your head?" he asked, the back of his hand brushing her neck.
"Fine," said Marjorie automatically. "Still hurts."
"That's a contradiction."
"No, it isn't."
Bucky's hands were combing through her hair, and it was very difficult to concentrate on the conversation.
"Yes, I'm pretty sure that's a contradiction." Marjorie could practically hear the smirk in his voice.
Technically, it was a contradiction.
Marjorie crossed her arms and made a grumbling sound, leaning against his chest.
"Stay still," Bucky complained. "Also, are you admitting that I'm right?"
"No," snapped Marjorie.
"I think you are," he said smugly. "Do you have a hair tie?"
"Yeah," she said, sliding a scrunchy off her wrist and handing it to him.
"Done," Bucky declared.
He had french braided her hair. Perfectly, one might add.
Where the fuck did he learn to braid hair? wondered Marjorie.
"This is actually really good," said Marjorie.
"Of course it is. I'm good at everything."
"Well, you can do my hair anytime."
"Maybe," he said, kissing her head. "But you should go to sleep now."
"Now?"
Bucky sighed. "It's already nine, and you're still recovering from an injury."
"But I was just asleep for three days," she pointed out.
"Being unconscious is not the same as sleeping!" protested Bucky. "Besides, Bruce said you needed rest. And, you said you were tired. Several times."
"Oh, fine."
"Sometimes, I think you just like being contrary," he muttered darkly.
"You're cute when you're sarcastic," explained Marjorie.
"Thanks?" Bucky sounded like he wasn't sure if this was a good thing. "What else did you want to be doing?"
"Nothing," she said quickly. Bucky's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Hopefully he didn't realize what she had had in mind: a celebratory make-out session, celebrating her waking up from her coma. Preferably without his shirt.
"Anyway, you're going to sleep, whether you like it or not."
"Okay," she agreed.
"Goodnight," he said, kissing her on the cheek. "I love you."
"You're going to say that at every possible opportunity, aren't you?"
"Yes," Bucky said, lightly kissing her. "Now go to sleep."
~
Marjorie blinked her eyes open to the rising sun filtering in through the window.
She felt calm and rested.
Bucky was laying next to her, and, somehow, her hand had gotten under his shirt and was resting on his chest. Marjorie didn't know how it got there, and decided she didn't care; it's not like she was complaining.
Maybe this was a step closer to her Most Important Goal—getting him shirtless.
Bucky was awake, and maybe he had been for some time. He looked fully awake but also completely relaxed.
"Good morning," he said.
"How long have you been awake?" asked Marjorie.
"Not that long."
It was like he had selected an answer that both gave an answer and didn't explain anything. Bucky was good at that, so good that Marjorie thought he did it subconsciously.
"Erik is coming today," Bucky stated the obvious, and sat up.
Marjorie scowled. Now they were no longer touching.
"What's wrong?" He had noticed her frown.
"Nothing," she said quickly.
Too quickly; he was studying her expression with a skeptical look. Damn it.
"Hmm..." he said thoughtfully. "Do you want breakfast now?
Marjorie blinked. "Uh... No???"
"Good." Bucky pulled her to him and pressed his lips against hers.
And then he was kissing her.
Kissing her in a way that made her head spin, her heart race.
Marjorie's body melted against Bucky; soft curves fitting into hard edges.
Their tongues moved against each other in a complex dance; the choreography made Marjorie forget everything but the taste of him, the shape of his body.
And the feeling of his hands on her.
Bucky was sliding his hands up her spine, along her bare skin, filling Marjorie with a strange shivering, fluttering sensation that made her feel like she was slowly dying in the best way.
And he was muttering in some other language against her neck.
Marjorie would make theories as to why he would not tell her what he was saying later. (It was probably either something really weird, something mushy and embarrassing, or something dirty. She would think the last most likely.) But right then she was busy.
Busy leaving a trail of kisses down his neck.
Busy feeling the pain and need of wanting someone so much and them wanting you back.
Giving all of yourself, but always having that horrible voice in your head.
The one that said no one could ever love you.
The one that wondered how long it would take for him to be disappointed and disgusted with Marjorie.
Marjorie hated that voice.
