"Ah, you're goading me," Bucky says with a fond laugh, turning around to walk backwards so he can look at her, grinning as he does. "That means you do want me to."

He knows this because he knows her, fascinating and complicated as she is, but she isn't predictable. Bucky doesn't know everything about her, and sometimes it feels like he's barely scraped the surface, but he knows her because she's let him in, and that means the world to him. The silver dagger rests against her chest and it brings Bucky joy to see it there, not because it means that he's marked her or laid claim, but because she loves him enough to wear something that connects her to him in some small way, and that makes him happy. And sort of desperately aroused, but that might be more due to the surrounding circumstances.

He stops walking so that Sylvie catches up to him, and then reaches up with his free hand to put it on her face, thumbing at the corner of her mouth as he presses a kiss to her forehead. "You look flushed," he murmurs with a grin, sliding his hand to the side of her neck and lifting her jaw with his thumb, tilting her head back to look up at him. "We're almost home. Then I'll give you whatever you want."