You’re Tony Starks daughter. You’re 20 years old and are home for the summer after your final year of college. Being a genius like your dad has its perks. School always came easy, that’s how you’ve graduated early. A lot of things come easy to you, tests, sarcasm, invention, reckless abandon. You flow with most things, most people. That is until you officially meet Bucky Barnes. You can’t exactly figure him out. There’s something different about him. Of course you know the story, his past. But it doesn’t scare you. It just makes you more curious about him, and more determined to push through the walls he has built up so high. With him, your flow stalls, and you don’t like that. Bucky is quiet, brooding, reclusive. He isn’t used to people trying to look too closely. But you’re different, and he sees that. Enemies to lovers. Age gap. Trauma coping. You each find a strange comfort in the other, even if you’re both too stubborn to fully admit it. After discovering him one night on the floor of his bedroom, shaking from a nightmare, you stay. You fall asleep together, and it’s the best sleep either of you have gotten in a long time. You both struggle at night, for your own different reasons. But you find you comfort each other through it. It begins a routine, a secret and unspoken one. You go to each others rooms almost every night to sleep. A logical solution to fix sleep deprivation. Until it changes. Cuddling, lips grazing skin just barely, soft touches. It blurs the lines of your relationship, your “logical” arrangement. It’s Friday night at the Avengers compound. Everyone is in the common room for a movie night, and after it’s over and everyone begins to slip away to bed, you know Bucky will be coming to your room, can see it in the way he sits rigged in the corner, that something is bothering him, meaning alone, he would most likely have a nightmare. This night is different, there’s something building up between you, and it comes to a head that night in your room after he climbs into your bed and the space leave between you, his hands slowly wondering and tracing your skin. You try to pretend it’s nothing, that it’s just a person needing comfort, connection, but you both know it’s deeper than that, especially when your eyes meet, and neither of you try and stop the exploring and soft touching, the lips grazing against each others skin, more following, a desperate need for each other unfurling in the way you look at each other in the dark room, the touching, grasping for more closeness.