Cruel Summer

Chapter 14

A/N: Okay, so this one gets some warnings from some mentioned/implied sexual content. Dr. Mirren sucks.....and I want to be very very clear with all of you—the behavior that takes place in this chapter IS NOT healthy and is NOT okay. It's not meant to be. Meg is a very traumatized individual who lacks a large understanding of what it means to be loved because of her experiences that she's had in Europe. This is reflective of that and it doesn't help when others put their thoughts and two cents in to try and make her feel bad about the whole thing. That being said, PLEASE don't be mad at Meg. This is trained and conditioned behavior that she's trying to break free from but it's not exactly going well. She's going to need YEARS to get better. And PLEASE don't be mad at Bucky either—he's doing his best in a situation that's not fair anyway.

When Meg awoke, it was because of the lack of warmth around her. She tiredly blinked open her eyes, gaze quickly landing on Bucky—who was dressing quickly. It couldn't have been more than 3 or 4 in the morning, and that meant that if he was up, he was getting ready to fly for the day.

"Didn't mean to wake you," Bucky's voice flooded her system like some sort of honey, making her very toes curl in the sheets of her bed.

Her gaze locked onto his form, the way that he was putting on his belt, the way his jacket was already on. There was a somber feeling in the room and she didn't altogether like it. Didn't like having to say goodbye to him in any sort of capacity— and if she had her way, he would have stayed with her in that room for the rest of their lives.

"You didn't," Meg murmured, pulling the blankets around her shoulders more. She wasn't sure why she was self-conscious now—especially considering how biblically he had already known her before the events of last night. And with the events of last night added onto their time together, he absolutely knew her better than anyone else did. "You're flying today?"

"Yeah," Bucky said softly, taking in the sight of her sitting in that bed—in the dim light of the room, hair rumpled and bared, she still looked like some sort of goddess. Nothing quite compared to the sight of waking up to her—and he wished that every morning could start out like this. He wasn't about to admit that he had tucked a few of her letters into his jacket to read later on.

Meg rose from the bed, sheet still wrapped around her. She padded over to him softly, eyes set on him. He seemed to soften even more as she approached him, hands reaching for his face. "You better be careful up there. I think we've got a lot to talk about," Meg murmured.

"No kidding, sweetheart," Bucky smiled, then bumped his forehead against hers. For a moment, they just drank in each other's presence—trying to memorize each line on the other's face and drink in the warmth and safety of being with one another. "This mission, it's a long one."

"Alex mentioned that," Meg replied. "Try not to be too bored without me."

At that, he gave a low laugh—and it reverberated through her stomach and down to her toes, making what felt like butterflies swirl up in her stomach. "I'm sure I'll be plenty entertained with Buck and the guys. I'll be thinking about you all week though."

"Hmm," Meg pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I'll hold you to that."

"Then I'll do my best not to disappoint."

"You never do. You better get going, flyboy. Otherwise everyone will be wonderin' where you're at."

"And we wouldn't want that, would we?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky was quiet as he waited for the fog to lift. He had been in a good mood that morning—really ever since leaving Meg's bunk. He didn't fail to notice the way that Buck gave him a look when he entered the room to hear the mission parameters—and he could only give his friend a slight smirk in response.