Can’t Feel My Face
This request was from my lovely Sabrina @winter–plum. Hope you like it!
“I can’t feel my face,” You breathed out, teeth chattering violently. Your clothes were damp from falling so many times while ice skating (You blamed Bucky for the amount of times you fell; he was anything but graceful on the ice, and bumped into you so many times it was maddening).
Bucky chuckled deep in his chest, tucking you under his arm. His breath fanned against your cheek when he pressed a kiss to your temple.
“You wanna get some hot chocolate, maybe it’ll warm you up?” He suggested, already tugging you in the direction of the little cafe that lay on the corner.
“With whip cream,” you grinned up at him, numb lips ghosting over his jawline, “you always forget the whip cream.”
The warmth that greeted you when you entered the cafe was amazing. Your entire body seemed to melt into Bucky’s side, a relaxed gleam entering your eyes.
He rolled his eyes at you, “Right, right.”
You watched as he approached the counter, everyone inching away from his large form. Your lips twitched with a smile as everyone stared at him, a look of pure awe passing over their faces. You couldn’t blame them; he was all muscle, sharp angles, and hair. You nearly swooned at the sight of him all bundled up in a leather jacket, a sweatshirt underneath, and a hat on his head.
He turned, his large hands dwarfing the cups of hot chocolate. You grinned when he set it down on the table in front of you.
“This was fun, Buck!” You sighed happily, sipping the hot beverage carefully. You could already feel the warmth in your cheeks returning.
“I had fun, too. Ice skating wasn’t as bad as I thought it was gonna be.”
“That’s because I was the one falling!” You giggled, throwing an unopened packet of sugar at him. His laugh made your heart flutter like a caged bird.
A moment of happy, comfortable silence passed before he spoke again, “Feel your face yet?”
“Gettin’ there!” You chirped, taking a long sip of your drink. You absentmindedly began rearranging the sugar and sweetener packets on the table, singing quietly to the Christmas music that played over the cafe’s speakers. When your eyes flickered up to Bucky’s, you found him staring at you. His eyes had gone soft, lips curved into a tiny smile. You quirked an eyebrow at him, silently asking him what he was looking at.
He leaned across the table, a smirk donning his lips. His metal hand was quick to grasp your scarf and tug you closer, lips finding yours and stealing the air from your lungs while painting your cheeks a bright red. He kissed you hard, tangling one hand in the hair at the base of your neck, while the other framed your face. He pulled away only to press his forehead against yours.
After a moment of heavy breathing, he grinned, “Bet you can feel your face now.”