Bucky hadn't come to meet her with the intention to kiss her. There was a lot that they needed to discuss. His memories, what she knew of her present and his future, and anything else that came along with those memories of theirs. He hadn't gone to those woods with any sort of preconceived notions or expectations. He would've been lying if he said there weren't feelings in his heart on the matter, and now that they were bringing all of it up and he was finally able to actually feel those feelings rather than just remember them it was damn near impossible not to become overwhelmed and consumed by all of it. At first he'd thought maybe his feelings were as they were because they were still so fresh. But, the longer he stood there with her Bucky didn't think it would've mattered if it'd been ten days or ten years. He still would've felt as he did right now, in this moment, standing there with her.
Bucky knew one of two things would happen. Either she was going to kiss him back, which was what he'd hoped for, or she was going to shove him off and maybe punch him in the face or knee him where it counted. The way she was clutching at his shirt and responding to him had his hopes fulfilled, and the realization that he was kissing her outside in the middle of the day hit him hard. They weren't hiding. They weren't flaunting it by any means, but it was the first time they'd shared a kiss that didn't have impending, looming danger surrounding it.
And it felt amazing.
"Me too," he said softly. Unable to help it, he pulled her into another embrace. The desperation was still there; after learning her fate how could it not be? "I'm still pissed off," he added, but didn't let her go. He pressed a kiss to her hair, her temple. "Can't you tell?"