She couldn't put finger her on it but there was something magnetic about him. It was kind of how we define aesthetic. Sometimes the things we call aesthetic are abstract, they do not have a prologue or postlude. No boundaries or borderlines, no contents or morals, no definitions or metaphors. No symmetry of any kind. But they are captivating.

Truth is, beauty is an anomaly. It is a rebellion, how something that does not conform to our beauty standards at all, something one wouldn't call conventionally beautiful when looking at the set of defining rules, something absolutely chaotic can still somehow stir our soul and strip away our sleep.

And he was an anomaly. The way he could just stand there absolutely tattered and crestfallen and still somehow look breathtaking.

He drew a distinct line between him and the other avengers. And when he walked out of the thick steam of the shower with his hair damp, she felt herself slipping. And it was dangerous.

She really thought that wet hair suited Bucky, dark damp locks slicked back and not threatening to fall into his eyes for once, it looked elegant on him. And it somehow made him look more poised and deft than before.

And that's what her mind kept debating on as she lead him to the bedroom after offering to blow dry his hair since it was cold. Bucky's gaze was cautious, scanning his surroundings and she assumed it was a force of habit as a trained assassin.

She eased him on the bed and she could sense the evident reluctance in his stance. He was still shivering, presumably due to his fever. She assumed that the fever would tune down in the morning when the medicines start to take effect.

"Mr Barnes, why are you so jittery?" She asked as she searched for the hairdryer in her dressing.

"I don't know -I just-"

"Mr Barnes," she leaned down to hold his hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze, she felt him ease down a little under her touch, "let me give you a little trick to calm yourself down when you feel jittery like this, hm? I used it when I was little."

His blue eyes felt like they were piercing into her soul. He swallowed and then nodded. He looked focused, and it overwhelmed her how he was taking little steps towards trusting her. She could not overlook how he was unknowingly holding her hands firmly in his, his feverish touch burning against her soft skin.

"Alright, first I want you to close your eyes and take a deep breath. You need to release your shoulders and unclench your jaw," She spoke and he followed, "then I want you to imagine a white dandelion drifting through the wind. I want you to observe it's flight, through the cloudy skies, pretty meadows, dusty attics. The tiny furry boy is the most fragile thing you can know, but it's freedom is overwhelming. It is delicate, but it is relentless. It will go wherever the wind takes it, fearless and unrestrained."

It was a little cognitive trick that he was unaware of. She had detoxified his mind using her powers when she made him close his eyes. The dandelion was just a decoy, she was tricking his mind into releasing endorphins with the thought of a dandelion as a little stimulation.

When he opened his eyes, they were clear, his muscles were relaxed and his breaths were even, "I- it. How'd it?" He breathed out, surprise lacing his tone.

"I call it the dandelion effect."

She just smiled and plugged the dryer in, he just leaned forward and let her dry his long dark hair, then use a comb to smoothen them out. She loved how cooperative he was, he didn't resist to anything she offered to do. He simply handed himself over to her and it exhilarated her. Although she did know it wouldn't last long and his lack of resistance was only because of his diminished judgement due to the fever.

When she was done, he looked up at her and smiled in gratitude. A smile that made her insides churn. Every time she detoxified his mind, she felt like she had almost cracked his shell and was catching a small glimpse of the old Bucky underneath. But it would barely last and his mind would be swiftly polluted by the corrupted memories of the winter soldier and hydra.

"Mr Barnes." She yielded to the sudden urge of wanting to talk to the person she saw there for a moment, the uncorrupted Sargent Barnes.

"You don't have to call me that." His lips thinned into a small smile as he light-headedly grazed his thumb against the back of her palms that he still hadn't let go.

Her eyes widened, "so, um, Bucky?"

His face immediately crinkled up into an expression she couldn't exactly pinpoint as to what it was, but appeared to be somehow that of embarrassment.

"No, no, not Bucky." He immediately added.

Her heart fell. She dreaded, she had crossed the line and offended him.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I got ahead of myself. We're not that close, right. Sorr-"

"Gosh, no no no. That's not why I," he immediately interjected, his grip on her hand getting firm, "it's just a bit embarrassing coming from a girl." He looked down at their hands and then returned his gaze back to her, "A pretty girl."

She gulped, he had barely spoken normally to her and he was making her flustered so effortlessly.

"A-Alright. I suppose then, James?" A corner of her lips tilted up into a smile again and he nodded.

The moment, it was so soft.

They way his gaze held her, in such high regard, his hands so gently caressing hers. She was convinced he was a puppy in a human body because his way of opening up was almost identical to that of little Winter.

She smiled and pulled a chair for herself near the bed and eased him down onto the pillow on her bed, smiling as she tucked his hair behind his ear. She knew that if she left now, the spell would be broken and he'd shatter into shards of insomnia and nightmares again.

So her choice was obvious.

She sat on the chair and sifted her hand through his soft perfumed hair and his smile deepened, his head still dizzy with the fever and the soothing neuroelectric waves pulsing in his veins that she was directing at him to keep the nightmares at bay.

"Would you sing again, please?"