Based on the song of the same name

When I was younger I saw my daddy cry

And curse at the wind.

He broke his own heart and I watched

As he tried to reassemble it.

And my momma swore

That she would never let herself forget.

And that was the day that I promised

I'd never sing of love if it does not exist.

"Hey, (Y/N), you want me to grab anything for ya?" Steve asked, standing up from the expansive couch in the lounge of the tower with an extended stretch of his arms above his head and a long yawn. "I need caffeine or I'll be asleep before we get even halfway through the movie."

"Nah, I'm good. But if you remember, I said we didn't have to do this. You had a tough mission today, Steve, I think you can pass on this."

"Movie night is always Thursday. We can't break tradition now. Besides, you had a rough day too. We both need this." He gave you a fatigued smile, though a hint of sparkle still reflected in his eyes from behind heavy lids. Steve glanced at Bucky, who was sitting on the couch next to you but watching the screen intently. Or, at least he appeared that way.

"Was it bad?"

You had to strain to listen, not sure if you had actually heard him speak or if you had imagined it. "Did you say something, Buck?"

"Was it bad?" he asked again, slightly louder than the first time, but his head was still turned away. "With your parents today? You've seemed really tense since you got back."

Even though his gaze was cast away, you nodded in agreement; you had been tense. You'd been in knots since you got back to the tower to meet up with your friends. Spending time with your parents was work, and frustration, and pain with only the slightest hint of what joy used to feel like. They argued over everything and nothing, sometimes forgetting that you were even there, wrapped up in their own drama and rehashing histories that were long gone. Steve knew how much it bothered you; he was your best friend and had seen it first hand. Bucky was still fairly new to the team, and to you, but despite that he was beginning to find a special place in your heart with each interaction. For a man who had been through so much trauma of his own, he was a surprisingly gentle soul.

"It sucked. But its okay, I'm used to it. Steve usually does a good job of getting me out of there when he sees that I'm about to lose it. I just didn't have him there today, is all," you sighed, jumping slightly when he grabbed your feet and spun you to put them over his lap. He slowly and methodically began to rub them until you felt your entire body begin to relax. "If you keep doing that, I'll be asleep before the old man."

"So what if you are?"

"You'd have to carry me back to my room."

Bucky didn't say anything for several minutes, his gaze still fixed on the images on the screen while his hands continued to work their magic on your feet; his grip changed slightly and moved up towards your calf. "Could I come with you?"

"I'm sorry?"

He finally turned his head to look at you for the first time, opening his mouth to respond just at Steve reappeared. Trying to be quick, he leaned in close to whisper in your ear; holding his head steady, his gaze shifted past you to cautiously watch his friend approach. "Could I come with you?"

But darling,

You are the only exception.

Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul

That love never lasts.

And we've got to find other ways to make it alone.

Or keep a straight face.

And I've always lived like this

Keeping a comfortable distance.

And up until now I have sworn to myself

That I'm content with loneliness.

Because none of it was ever worth the risk.

When the movie ended, Bucky held up his end of the promise, sweeping an arm under your legs and another around your back, carrying you to your room as you slept. You had fallen asleep at movie night many times, and Steve was always your savior from having to drag yourself across and up the tower to your room, but when Bucky picked you up, Steve didn't question it at all.

You woke slightly at the rhythmic motions of walking as he carried you, but you kept your head rested on his chest. You could feel his warm breath in your hair and the curve of each muscle in his arm as he held you. The attention to these details was something you hadn't experienced before, and now you could even feel your heart begin to beat just a little bit faster. Once he reached the door to your room he stopped, not sure how to open it when you were fully in his arms. Smiling to yourself, you slowly reached your arm out and opened it for him.

"I thought you were asleep."

"Have you ever tried to sleep with someone carrying you?"

"Valid point," he whispered, carrying you to your bed and laying you on top of the quilted blanket that covered it. Bucky watched you for a moment as you pulled your legs under and found a comfortable place, waiting to say something until you were settled. "Can I sit with you for a while?" He opened his mouth to say more, but paused for a moment of introspection on what he wanted to say. "No...sorry, no...you should sleep. I'll see you tomorrow, (Y/N)."

"Buck, you asked me if you could come with me, so stay." Your arm reached over and pulled the blanket up on the opposite side of the bed, and you looked at him expectantly. "Come on, sit by me. We can talk until one or both of us falls asleep." He stood silently, looking at you, then to the door, and back to you, clearly displaying his anxiety and uncertainty about the intimate proximity you were offering. He finally and reluctantly moved to slide in next to you, but remained seated against the headboard.

"Is this okay?"

He was keeping a safe distance, but you could feel that he wanted to be closer. "Tell me what's going on. You've never asked to come up here before, so why now? Did something happen?" You rolled over towards him and propped yourself up on your elbow, "talk to me."

I've got a tight grip on reality,

But I can't let go of what's in front of me here.

I know you're leaving in the morning when you wake up.

Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream.

And I'm on my way to believing.

Oh, and I'm on my way to believing.

"It's come to my...attention..." he stammered quietly, purposefully not looking at you, "I mean...I'm beginning to feel...oh, dammit anyway..." He pushed himself up straighter as if he were gathering his strength, his hands now nervously grazing the tops of his thighs. "I don't know what to do with my hands..."

You took the cue to take action, reaching over and grabbing them with both of yours. "Calm down, it's just me." He tried to pull them away for only a split second, but quickly resolved to leaving them where you held them, watching your fingers intertwine with his, both human and metal. "Okay, I'm not good with this emotional stuff, in case you didn't notice. I assume that you aren't either, given how this is going."

"I used to be."

"Then you're already one step ahead of me."

"I like you, (Y/N). A lot," he blurted out, still watching your hands with his. "In everything that's happened over the past few months, and everything with Steve and the team, I've decided that there's really only one thing that I want. One thing that I can't compromise on, and that's you."

"Wow," you said in an almost inaudible tone, looking at him with a surprise that rapidly faded to a calming resole and relief that he made the first move. "In that case, I think its time that I make a very important exception"