#auprofessor!buckyxofc

[fanfictionaries]

Love and Academia Ch.9 - Cold Beer and Crossed Lines

Pairing: AU Professor!Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Swearing, smut, NSFW/18+ only, mentions of death/violence/suicide, Angst

Author’s note: A little attraction. A little flirting. A little Clint. A whole lot of Bucky and Emily!

Also: Holy cow! 5.5k words?? Longest Bucky chapter and longest chapter I’ve ever written on anything to be honest. 

And as always, I do not currently have a beta reader so please excuse any larger issues. It’s just little ol’ me!

***

It should be illegal for cookies to taste this delicious. It should be even more illegal for the person who baked them to look so delicious. Bucky watched Emily as she took that Friday afternoon to tidy the lab. A group of visiting middle schoolers had spent the better part of the afternoon with them, learning about science, plants, and ecology and now the room was in shambles. Not that it was very clean to begin with. He had no idea why, but a universal truth existed about ecology labs – they were always a mess. Perhaps it was the lack aseptic technique required for their experiments. It might also have to do with the exorbitant amount of time they spent in the field, their camping materials, hiking boots, and lab equipment almost always coming back caked in mud. Nevertheless, you’d never find yourself in a spic and span ecology lab. The concept was practically an oxymoron.

Still, the mess the middle schoolers left was quite impressive and as his diligent graduate student, Emily had volunteered to clean up and put everything back into place. He watched her through the office window that looked out into the rest of the lab. Her hair was down today the long golden strands cascading down her back in thick waves. If he focused hard enough, he could just remember the silky, soft feel of it threaded through his fingers. She wore the same pair of baggy, paint-covered jeans as the day he walked into his office to find her dancing amongst the piles of Dr. Erskine’s book. They were high-waisted, synched tight at her small waste by a belt, but hanging loose everywhere else. It wasn’t until she bent over to pick something up that he could see the outline of her perky ass and full thighs. Currently, she was on her tiptoes attempting to place a large fluorescent light on top of a cabinet causing the bottom of her shirt to ride up and reveal the creamy skin of her ribcage. God, did she have to wear such little shirts? Not that he thought it would make much of a difference. The girl could probably come to school in a parka and he’d still get an erection watching her.

He didn’t know when the line of propriety in his mind had been crossed, but he was currently miles past it with no intention of turning back. The best he could do at this point, would be to come to a screeching halt and take five where he was. However, that was a little hard to do when everywhere he went, there she was. When he taught his classes, she was there. Sitting in the front row, idly doodling in her notebook, pen flipping in her delicate fingers, long legs crossing and uncrossing over each other. Often times, he found himself losing his concentration mid-sentence, too focused on the way Emily’s lips wrapped around the end of her pen. Even in the seemingly sweet solitude of his lab she was ever present. It didn’t matter what day or what time, she was there. Headphones on, working diligently at her desk. Dr. Erskine hadn’t been kidding when he said she was a hard worker. The amount of time she spent grinding away at her work bordered on unhealthy – bordered on his work ethic.

He had an excuse of course. He was using his work as a distraction. He always had. When Jenny Haver broke up with him his first year of graduate school, he locked himself in his room and didn’t come out until two weeks later, a full PhD proposal written to perfection. Is that what Emily was doing too? Avoiding something? Using her work as a distraction? He couldn’t imagine what it would be. She always seemed so happy and bright. Every morning, she swept into the lab like an early spring breeze, fresh and invigorating. Often times the day didn’t feel like it began until he saw her smile. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone. Even himself. She was his student. What he was experiencing was simply a basic case of carnal attraction. It was biological. Unavoidable.

“Hey, Dr. Barnes.” His wandering mind was brought back by the woman in question, standing in the doorway of his office. Despite their more relaxed relationship, she still kept her distance whenever she could, and she still insisted on calling him by his professional title. Probably for the best.

“Emily, what can I do for you?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light and friendly and free of any hint that he had been ogling her moments before.

“I’m taking off early today. I wanted to let you know, I’ll have the rough draft for my introduction to you by Monday,” she said, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“Yea sounds good. Any fun plans for the weekend?” He wished he could pretend that he’d only asked to be polite, but truthfully, he wanted to know more about her. He needed to.

Emily rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, “Oh yea. Major fun. That is, if working all weekend is considered fun. I’ll be swimming in it.”

“Whoa there, someone better real you in before you get too out of hand,” Bucky said dryly, joining in on the joke.

“I know, an absolute menace to society.”

“The worst.”

They smiled at each other, finding a soft comfort in their banter. It was not the kind of joke that brought you to audible laughter. Instead, it filled you with a warmth and fondness that stuck with you. The thought of it possessing the ability to make you smile for days, months, even years.

“What, um, what about you?” Emily asked, shifting her weight and leaning against the doorframe.

“Oh, well I’ve got midterm grading to do. I might meet up with Steve for a few beers.” Bucky didn’t actually have plans with Steve, but he found himself making up the detail on the spot. The need for his life to seem less boring taking over momentarily.

“Oh fun…so it looks like you liked them.” Emily pointed towards the plate of almost finished cookies on his desk.

“Yea, they’re delicious,” he complimented, watching as Emily chewed her bottom lip as her gaze focused on the plate of snickerdoodles. She appeared to be deep in thought, the contents of it becoming clear when a dusky blush began to spread across her cheeks.

Clearing her throat, she snapped out of her trance and pulled her eyes away from the plate of delicious treats, making an effort to look anywhere but him. Realization flooded through Bucky, his mind wandering back to their texts from the previous night. Apparently, the exchange hadn’t been as one sided as he thought. He hadn’t meant for the text to sound so sexual when he sent it. Truthfully, it was a case of mistype, having forgotten to tack on the ‘s’ at the end of the word cookies. It wasn’t until the text was sent that he realized his mistake and how it might be construed. He thought about sending a follow up text immediately to correct it, but something had stopped him. Some sick, depraved part of himself wanted to know how she’d react. Emily in a whole was an enigma. Ever since their truce, he’d tried to spot any hint of the confident, sexy, bold woman he’d met that night at the bar. Something to prove to himself that it was her raw sexual prowess and the memory of it that weakened his resolve. However, that version of her had since been seen again. Instead, in its place was a sweet, intelligent, and sarcastic woman. A little shy. A little quiet. Funny. He didn’t know how to justify that in his mind. How to justify his attraction to that version of her in his mind.

“Well, have a good weekend,” Emily said softly, disappearing from his doorway before Bucky even had the opportunity to respond.

He sighed, burying his head in his hands and taking a deep breath before raking his palms over the rough stubble on his cheeks. He needed a distraction. Something entirely graduate student free. His thoughts wandered to his lie about hanging out with Steve. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.

Picking up his phone, he opened his recent call list. Mom. Mom. Mom. Sister. Steve. Clicking on Steve’s number, the phone rang.

“Hey Buck, what’s up?” Steve’s voice asked from the other end, the screams and shouts of little kids sounding from the background.

“Hey Stevie, I’m not bugging you at work, am I?”

“No, no. We’re on our second recess of the day. I’m monitoring. What’s up?” he asked again.

“Just wanted to see if you were free to grab dinner and a few beers tonight. There’s this place near my house I’ve been wanting to try,” Bucky said, leaning back in his chair.

“Yea—” Steve’s answer was cut short by a loud screech somewhere on his end “—Jackson, stop. Put that down!” Bucky heard Steve scold; his voice more distant as he spoke to the children around him. “Yea. That sounds good. Just text me the place and time and I’ll meet you ther—Martha, that’s not how we talk to our friends.”

Bucky laughed, accustomed to half conversations with Steve when he was at work.

“Alright punk. I’ll see you tonight.” He hung up, not bothering to wait for a response. He knew he wouldn’t get one. When Steve was around his kids, they dominated all of his attention. He lived for those kids, every one of them. Just looking at the impressive cut of Steven Grant Rogers, you’d never think that his life’s calling was wiping snotty noses and teaching the ABCs. But one conversation with the human embodiment of a basket of yarn, you very quickly realized that he wasn’t fit for much else. Allegedly, and while Bucky had seen the pictures he still wasn’t fully convinced, Steve used to be just a sprig of a thing. Barely over five feet tall and a buck twenty soaking wet. He had told Bucky years ago in college that he’d hit a growth spurt halfway through high school and taken up weightlifting to stop getting his ass handed to him every day. But secretly, he believed the real reason behind his impressive growth in mass was to be able to one day lift his entire kindergarten class with one arm. He’d personally seen his best friend hold up ten giggling five year old’s dangling from a single arm like little monkeys.

No, tonight would be good. An extra-large pizza split between them both and one too many beers was just what the doctor ordered. Maybe a game or two of pool if they had a table. If not, he would be perfectly content with bullshitting and talking about the old days. This was just what he needed to clear his mind of Emily.

Four hours later Bucky was walking through the side entrance to Goody’s still reeling from the conversation he’d had with his mother. She wanted him to come home for thanksgiving. He did not. Let the argument commence. He loved his mother. He really did. And he knew she meant well. He really did. But he also hated her inability to respect his boundaries. He really did.

As he entered the small pizza joint and bar, he was pleased to see a few decent and empty pool tables in the far corner. Spotting Steve already sitting down at a table, two beers and giant steaming pizza before him, Bucky headed towards him.

“Got here early so I ordered for you,” said Steve, standing up to pull Bucky into a brief hug. Bucky slapped a hand on his friends back before pulling back and looking down at the pizza. Extra-large meat lovers. Extra cheese.

“Aww darling, my favorite. You remembered,” Bucky teased, sitting down and taking a large sip of the lager. Setting his pint glass down, he reached forward and grabbed a piece of pizza, the cheese stretching with a perfectly melted consistency.

“Well you know, I wanted to try the alfredo pizza they had, but someone refuses to eat anything but the most testosterone filled, artery clogging pizza.”

Bucky shrugged, taking a large bite of his slice and speaking through the pizza as he chewed, “Hey man, why bother with anything but perfection?”

“Well I can’t argue with that logic,” laughed Steve, grabbing a slice himself.

“Oh, my mom wanted me to tell you that she got your card,” Bucky remarked, remembering his mother’s parting request right before he ended their call. Every year Steve sent out a card with a picture of him and his new group of kids to all his family, that list seemed to include his parents.

“Oh great! How is Winni?”

Bucky sighed, “She wants me to come home for thanksgiving. I told her I was spending thanksgiving with your family. By the way, can I come to thanksgiving?”

“Yea, you’re more than welcome Buck,” Steve laughed before taking on a more serious tone, “Are they all still on your case for moving?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” He rolled his eyes, taking another swig of his beer. “Mom figures I should have stayed after everything with Diane. But, fuck, the last thing I wanted to do was be closer to her and all those memories. Plus, her and my sister still baby me over the whole thing. I’m a grown man. I don’t need their coddling. It’s been almost a year and a half.”

“I get that. Took nearly two years for Mary and my mom to stop trying to take care of me after Peggy left me. Nearly lost my mind, but they finally got the memo that I was okay. Are you…okay that is?” Steve asked, leaning forward on the table, eyebrows raised in concern.

Bucky had to think for a moment. Was he okay? For months he had felt consumed by the emptiness Diane’s departure from his life had left. The world had felt so bleak. He held so much anger towards her. For leaving. For giving up the way that she did. But now, things felt different. He didn’t know when it had happened but waking up in the morning no longer felt like a chore.

“Yea, I think I am,” he answered truthfully, finding realization and catharsis in the statement.

“Good. Good, man. I’m really happy to hear that Buck.”

They shared a brief smile before Steve’s morphed into a mischievous glint, “So does that mean you’re ready to get back out there?”

Bucky snorted, shaking his head, “Let’s just take this one step at a time, alright pal? But speaking of dating, how are things going with you and Natasha?”

Bucky watched as the smile on Steve’s face widened, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

“You dog. That good?”

“Better. I uh…yea. Definitely better.”

Bucky laughed, taking another bite of pizza. Well, at least one of them was getting laid. He was happy for Steve. Even during his entire relationship with Peggy he’d never seen him so smitten.

“There she is!” A chorus of cheers and greetings flowed through the air from the bar behind him. Bucky didn’t think much of it until he heard the sound of a familiar voice.

“I know. I know. Maria had me in the basement doing inventory.”

Turning in his chair, Bucky was surprised to see Emily, standing behind the bar, chit-chatting with a group of older men and women. So much for a night free of his graduate student.

“Where have you been girl? We haven’t seen you in forever!” asked the patron near the end – an older woman with greying hair and kind eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry! My day job has been kicking my butt lately. But, it will all be worth it once I graduate,” Emily laughed, leaning against the bar top.

Bucky watched her as she interacted with the group. She seemed comfortable. At ease. The group must be regulars.

A throat clearing pulled him away from Emily and back to Steve, who looked at him smugly, “I could use another beer. Why don’t you run up to the bar and grab me one Buck?”

Bucky nodded, downing the rest of his and standing, “I’ll be back in a sec.”

“Uh huh, sure. Take your time man.”

Walking up to the bar, Bucky watched as Emily’s gaze passed over him and then doubled back, a smile spreading across her face.

“I guess you weren’t lying when you told me you were a bartender,” he said, setting his and Steve’s empty glasses down on the bar top. Emily raised an eyebrow, leaning forward on her elbows.

“Half-truth Dr. Barnes. Graduate student most of the time. Bartender sometimes.”

“I don’t suppose the sometimes you’re a bartender, you could call me Bucky?”

Emily breathed deeply, scrutinizing him through squinted eyes, “No, I don’t think I can.”

“Oh, come on. I don’t have any leverage as your advisor for you to change your mind?” Bucky asked mischievously.

“That sounds an awful lot like abuse of power Dr. Barnes—" Emily replied, a similar mischievous glint in her eye “—Now, what can I get you?”

“What do you recommend?”

“Can’t go wrong with a Caribou Slabber,” Emily stated resolutely, grabbing two pint glasses from the shelves behind her.

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it. Two of those and uh, two waters.” Bucky pulled his wallet from his pocket and leaned against the bar, rubbing at the rough stubble on his cheeks as Emily poured his beers. Emily laughed, a small light thing.

“What?” asked Bucky.

“Watta,” Emily repeated, imitating his accent crudely.

“It’s not that thick,” Bucky defended himself good naturedly.

“Whatever you say Brooklyn.”

Bucky laughed, the sound of the nickname rolling off her tongue made something tug in his chest. Shaking it off, he pulled out some cash and placed thirty dollars on the bar top in exchange for their drinks.

“Keep the change.”

“Thanks,” said Emily, “Say hi to Steve for me. Let me know if I can get anything else for you.”

A few hours later Bucky found himself in an aggressive game of one-pocket. Many hours spent in their dorm hall rec room had resulted in their shared skill at pool and they had a bad habit of getting a little competitive.

“Is that the best you can do?” Steve taunted when Bucky made his second scratch of the night.

Bucky sighed, standing up straight and taking a large gulp of Caribou Slabber. She really did have good taste in beer. “Shut up punk. I taught you how to play. Remember?”

“And now, the student has surpassed the teacher—” Steve shrugged, watching as Bucky eyes diverted towards the bar for the hundredth time that night “—okay. What’s going on?”

“What?” Bucky asked, feigning innocence and stupidity.

“Oh please. You can’t stop looking over at her. Is there something going on?”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not. She’s not even over there right now!” Bucky scoffed.

Steve rolled his eyes, letting out a curt mhmm. Bucky knew he didn’t believe him. He was no stranger to Steve’s ‘I know best and you know nothing’ look. But he was telling the truth. Nothing was going on between him and Emily.

“Whatever. Believe me. Don’t believe me. I’m going to take a piss—” he propped his pool stick against the side of the table “—and if I come back and you’ve moved any of those balls, I’m coming for you punk. Don’t even try it! I’ve got that table memorized!” Bucky called out behind him and he headed towards the back of the bar where the restrooms were located.

Rounding the corner, he was stopped abruptly by the sight of Emily with some guy. Crowding her space, the man stood only a few inches above her looking frustrated. Emily’s posture was closed off, her arms crossed in front of her looking away from him and at the doors to the restrooms. He should have turned away. It was none of his business. But something kept him planted in the stop, moving forward a few inches to listen in.

“See, this is what I’m talking about Em! You won’t open up to me. You never would! I mean, I mess up once and now you won’t even talk to me.” Interesting.

“Mess up? Mess up? Clint, you did the one thing, the one thing, I explicitly told you not to do!”

“I know. I know. But I promise it will never happen again. Just give me a chance! Couples get past this sort of thing all the time,” Clint pleaded, placing a hand on her arm that Emily promptly shrugged off.

“I can’t Clint. I told you how important faithfulness and honesty were to me. I made that explicitly clear at the beginning of our relationship and you agreed. You agreed and you still slept with Sharon! I mean, how long has it been going on?”

The man was quiet. Bucky’s stomach dropped. He should walk away. He should really walk away.

“How long Clint?” Emily asked again, this time her voice a little weaker.

“A year and a half.” Bucky might not have been sure he had heard the answer correctly if it wasn’t for Emily’s boisterous reaction.

“A year and a half?! Are you kidding me Clint? Almost our entire relationship? God. I can’t even look at you.” Emily turned to walk away, but Clint caught her by her forearm, yanking her back and against the wall. “Ow!”

“Em don’t walk away. Listen to me! I can explain!”

“Let go of me Clint,” Emily said through gritted teeth.

“No, not until you listen to what I have to say,” Clint responded, desperation and anger evident in his voice.

Bucky, no longer able to watch the exchange, stepped forward, “Hey, back the fuck off man. She told you to let go.”

The coupled looked towards him as he stalked down the hallway, anger seething through him. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

“Listen buddy, this isn’t any of your business,” said Clint in annoyance.

“Like hell it is—” Bucky grabbed Clint by the shoulder and pulled him away from Emily, before turning to her “—are you okay Emily?”

“You really don’t have to do this,” Emily said to Bucky. But the way her posture relaxed, and her arms opened from around her body said differently. She was relieved he had stepped in.

“Do you know this guy Em?” Clint asked, stepping forward.

Bucky swept around, placing himself between Emily and Clint. He towered over the man, using both his height and size to intimidate. Though, he reckoned the flaming, red-hot rage in his eyes would be enough to send him running. He was seething. Every ounce of his self-control kept him from absolutely clobbering the douchebag.

“Just go Clint!” Emily called over Bucky’s shoulder.

Clint laughed, no humor found in his expression or tone, “Are you fucking this guy Em? Is that why you won’t talk to me? Already slutting around?”

Bucky wanted to punch him. Bucky almost punched him. But the soft touch of Emily’s hand on his bicep kept him in check. Turning his head, he caught the desperate plea in her eyes and knew that beating this guy to a pile of mush would be the wrong thing to do. So instead, he took slow and calculated steps towards him until Clint was pressed against the wall opposite them. Bucky watched as the cockiness quickly melted from his face and in its place, fear resided. Jabbing a large finger into his chest, Bucky spoke low and menacingly.

“If I ever see you lay another hand on her, I will personally make sure you regret it. I will not hesitate to kick the ever loving shit out of you. Do I make myself clear?”

Clint nodded frantically, eyes shifting from Bucky and the exit.

“Now, I never want to see you around her or this place ever again. Got it?”

“Yea man, I get it! Just let me go,” Clint pleaded.

“Everything alright here?” Steve’s voice sounded from the hallway entrance.

“Yea. Clint here was just leaving. Mind walking him to the door?”

Steve took a moment to assess the situation behind speaking in a casual tone, “Not at all. Come on Clint.”

Clint’s eyes seemed to go wide when he took in the even more massive man. Steve clasped a hand on Clint’s shoulder and guided him out of sight. Letting out a long breath, Bucky closed his eyes and counted to ten, calming himself before turning back to Emily.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked, taking a moment to scan his eyes over her.

Emily nodded, biting her lower lip and leaning against the wall behind her.

“No, you’re not. Do you need me to wait for you to get off and walk you home?” Bucky asked, lifting her right arm up to look at it more closely. No bruises. Yet.

“I’m, uh, I’m actually already off. I was headed out of the bathroom when he cornered me,” Emily said, rubbing at her face.

“Okay, let’s get you home then. Come on.”

Bucky and Emily left Goody’s after he explained everything to Steve. His best friend didn’t seem upset about cutting their night short at all. Instead, he told them to make it home safely and that he also made sure Clint would not be coming around any time soon. They walked in silence, the only thing keeping the darkened street alight, the soft yellow lights of streetlamps and porchlights. The walk was very reminiscent of the last time they had found themselves walking the streets of Pocatello late in the evening. The only thing different this time was the lack of Trixie by their side and Bucky’s arm slung over her shoulders protectively. She needed someone to take care of her in that moment. He knew solely from the fact that instead of shying away from his touch, she leaned into it all the way to her apartment.

She hadn’t been lying when she’d said she lived close to him. Her complex was only about a half mile from his house. The manufactured building held no personality, the white siding and grey trim creating uniform replications of the same apartments. However, Emily knew exactly where she was going, leading him towards her apartment with a practiced ease. When she unlocked her front door, she walked right in, leaving the door open. Bucky took this as an invitation to follow her. When he stepped into her place, he found it to be surprisingly lacking in any sentimentality. In fact, it looked half empty. No pictures hung on the walls. No nick-knacks or keep sakes. Just furniture and the odd piece of decoration. It was messy, but not too messy. The small dining room table was clear, but the coffee table held notebooks, pens, and her laptop. A pile of blankets and pillows sat on the single couch in the living room.

As if sensing where his gaze was focused, Emily spoke over her shoulder as she disappeared into a back hall, “You can have a seat on the couch. Just shove the blankets out of the way. I’ll be right back.”

Bucky made his way to the couch, picking up the patchwork quilt. The fabric was soft in his hand, the cotton material aged in just the right way. The individual squares were neat and colorful and held a warmth that Bucky only felt as a child when he visited his grandparents’ house. The intimacy of the quilt overwhelmed him. It was too personal. The situation felt too personal. He shouldn’t be there.

Just as he made to drop the quilt and walk towards the door, Emily reemerged donning a pair of sweats and fuzzy socks.

“Hi,” Bucky said, his mouth dry. Something about seeing her like this, looking so small and vulnerable, felt both wrong and horribly right.

“Hi,” Emily responded, walking towards him and giving a quizzical look at the quilt and then him.

“Oh, I was just admiring it. It’s really beautiful, the quilt I mean.”

Emily pulled it from his hands, hugging it to her chest as she sat down on the couch, “Thanks. It was my grandma’s.”

There was a long pause, a heavy weight filling the space between them.

“Do you wanna’ talk about it?” he asked.

There was a long pause as Emily tried to decide whether she wanted to discuss the events that had occurred that night. Bucky waited with bated breath. Then, with a deep sigh, Emily began to talk.

“We met the summer before the second year of my PhD. Mutual acquaintances. Department barbeque. He seemed nice. We moved in together after a year. And then a year later, a month and half ago to be exact, I found him in our bed with his lab mate, Sharon.” Emily picked at the quilt in her lap and brought her feet up onto the couch, turning towards him. “I kicked him out the same day. Haven’t spoken to him till tonight.”

Bucky was quiet, opting to simply allow her to tuck her feet below his thigh and listen.

“At first, I was upset, but as time’s gone on, I’m realizing that I probably wasn’t upset for the right reason. I felt hurt. But not because I loved him. I should have loved him. I think. We were together for so long. We lived together. But…” She laughed. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I don’t usually…Nat says I like to bottle things up and make bad jokes at my own expense. I don’t—I don’t usually…”

Bucky found himself reaching out and placing a hand over hers. He had no idea why she felt comfortable enough to open up to him, but he was touched that she did.

“What a dick. Doesn’t matter if you loved him or not. Or if he loved you or not. You made an agreement and he broke that. It’s no one’s fault but his own. You deserve a lot better than that guy, trust me.” The words he spoke were true. She did deserve a lot better.

Emily turned her hand over, her fingertips brushing against the palm of his hands. The touch sent his pulse racing. A burning fire igniting beneath the surface of his skin everywhere her fingers brushed.

“Thank you, Dr. Barnes,” breathed Emily. Her eyes focused on the movement of her hand and Bucky’s in turn as he moved his hand in sync with hers. Fingertips to fingertips. A ghostly touch.

Bucky chuckled lightly, “Are you ever going to call me Bucky?”

“No,” Emily responded, a small smirk on her face.

“So just Dr. Barnes forever?”

She was quiet, a pensive look on her face as she ceased the dance of their hands and threaded her fingers through his.

“How about James?” she asked.

Bucky’s heart clenched. A hand wrapped around it tightly, squeezing and squeezing. The sound of his name, his given name, slipping past her lips and rolling off the tip of her tongue caused a visceral reaction within him. The front of his jeans tightened, and arousal shuddered through his body.

“Say it again,” he commanded, voice gravely with need.

He heard the sound of Emily’s breath catching in her throat before a soft “James” passed her lips. Hand still gripping hers tightly, he used it to pull her forward and onto his lap. Eyes wide with surprise, her chest heaved, and body trembled as she braced her hands on his shoulders.

“Again.”

“James.”

They leaned towards each other, noses touching and lips a whisper apart. The hot, heavy mix of their breaths shared between them. He should stop. He was no longer crossing a line of propriety in mind. He was crossing a real line. Everything told him to stop. The voice in the back of his head was a distant scream that shouted: ‘She’s your student’, ‘You’re her advisor’, ‘It’s inappropriate’, ‘It’s a liability to your position’, ‘What about Diane?’. But with the feel of her hips in his hands and her hair tickling his face as she leaned over him the voice moved farther and farther into the recesses of him mind.

“Again.”

“Ja—”

Emily was cut off by the shrill ring of a phone in the kitchen. They both jumped, pulling away from each other as if the phone itself caught them in the middle of a nefarious act. Bucky released her waist, his hands falling to his sides as Emily stood and ran to the kitchen.

“Hello? Nat, hey. What’s up?” Emily’s voice lilted from the kitchen, breathy with a small hint of panic. “Yea, I’m fine. I just got home a few minutes ago.”

Bucky stood, removing the quilt that had made its way onto his lap and folded it, before gently placing it back on the couch.

“Oh, Steve told you what happened?”

He sighed, looking around the living room and then back towards the kitchen before making his way towards the front door. Quietly, he exited the apartment, closing the door behind him. The chilly bite of the late night air sank through to his bones as he walked home, trying to make sense of what just happened. By the time he made it to his front door he still didn’t know if he should thank Natasha or advise Steve to break up with her. But one thing was definitely clear, he had crossed a line and there was no going back.

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