Grumpy & the New Girl | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18
Stay With Me
Darling
I Noticed
Shoulder to Lean On
The New Winter Soldier: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Birthday Bucky
Dreaming of You
Fat Funny Friend
Drunk Confessions
In Every Universe: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Summary: During a mission, you and Bucky accidentally trigger a machine that sends you to a different universe. As you travel the multiverse together, you have to find each other in every universe. But will you ever make it back to your original universe?
Word Count: 5,554
You gasp. Your body jerks upright like you’ve just been pulled out of deep water. Your heart is racing. Your breathing is uneven. Your stomach flips unpleasantly.
“Okay,” you whisper, pressing a hand to your chest. “Okay, okay…”
You sit there for a second, trying to steady your breathing, still a little nauseous and dizzy. Then you finally look around. And freeze. “What the hell.”
Your room doesn’t look like your room. Everything is…white. And not just white, but sleek. Smooth walls. No clutter. No furniture that looks normal. It looks like you woke up inside a futuristic movie set. Even the bed feels different. Too perfect. Too clean.
The lights are dim, not off – just low, like the room is waiting. “This is weird.”
As if on cue, the lights slowly brighten. You look up. “Okay, I don’t like that.”
Then – a voice. Calm, neutral, and smooth. “You woke suddenly with an elevated heart rate.”
You jump. “What?!” You spin around, looking for someone.
“There is no immediate cause for alarm,” the voice continues. “Are you experiencing distress?”
You stare at the walls. “Hello?”
“Apologies. I did not intend to startle you.”
You blink. “Okay.” You take a slow breath. “Okay so…you’re like…JARVIS?”
“Correct. I am an integrated adaptive system designed to monitor and assist.”
You nod slowly. “Right…cool.”
You look around again. Everything is too advanced. Too smooth. “Yeah this universe is weird.”
You swing your legs over the side of the bed, stand up, and immediately pause. “Why do I feel so tall?” You look down at yourself. Your clothes. Your hands. You hold them up.
“Wait…” You walk quickly over to the mirror by the door. And freeze. Then you lose it.
“Oh my God, no way,” you burst out laughing. You lean forward, bracing your hands on your knees.
“I’m a guy?!” You laugh harder. “This is insane.”
You run a hand through your short hair and it feels weird. Then it hits you. You look back up at your reflection. “Oh my God, Bucky. I need to see this.”
You immediately turn and head for the door. When you step towards it, it slides open automatically. You stop. “…Okay, that’s cool.”
You step out into the hallway and immediately spot him walking toward you. You freeze. Then point. And absolutely lose it again. “Oh my God, BUCKY!” You double over laughing again.
He glares at you. “Oh shut up.”
You can barely breathe. “You look–” You point at him again, laughing so hard you can’t even finish the sentence.
“You look ridiculous too,” he snaps.
That just makes it worse. “You’re so…short!”
“I am not–”
You’re bent over laughing. “You have boobs!”
He walks up and shoves you back into your room. “Get inside.”
You stumble backward, still laughing. The door slides shut behind him.
“Please keep your volume down,” the AI says calmly. “Other residents are currently sleeping.”
You try to catch your breath. “Oh…sorry.”
Bucky looks around the room. “You have that thing too?”
“Yeah,” you say, wiping tears from your eyes. “It’s like JARVIS but…creepy.”
“Your heart rate is slowly returning baseline,” the AI continues.
You snort. “Good to know.”
“Elevated levels now are most likely due to the presence of Mrs. Barnes.”
You freeze. Then immediately burst out laughing again. “Mrs. Barnes?!”
Bucky glares. “Don’t start.”
“You’re Mrs. Barnes!”
“I will leave.”
“No, don’t!” you laugh, clutching your stomach.
“Analysis indicates increased dopamine levels,” the AI continues. “Likely associated with attraction.”
You stop. “…What.”
Bucky blinks. Then lets out a short laugh. “Wow.”
You stare at the ceiling. “Turn that off.”
“I cannot disable observational outputs without authorization.”
“Then…stop talking.”
“Understood.”
Silence. You look at Bucky again. Then immediately start laughing again, quieter this time. “This is insane.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah.”
“You look weird.”
“You look weird!”
You grin. “I look great.”
“You look wrong.”
You laugh. “Okay fair.” You gesture between you. “So…everyone’s swapped?”
“Looks like it.”
“My AI called you Mrs. Barnes.”
He makes a face.
“Mine called me James.”
You nod. “Okay so same names. Just…different everything else.”
You look around the room again. “And super high-tech.”
“No kidding.”
You gesture vaguely. “My door opened automatically.”
“Mine too.”
You both look around slightly unsettled.
Then you say, “I think this place is watching us.”
“Yeah I got that feeling.”
You sit down on the edge of the bed. The nausea creeps back in. Not as bad, but enough. “Ugh.”
Bucky notices immediately. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” You press a hand to your stomach. “Just…a little nauseous again.”
“You seem to be experiencing mild nausea,” the AI says immediately.
You look up. “Oh my god.”
“Recommended solution: hydration and electrolyte stabilization.”
Bucky snorts. “It’s diagnosing you.”
“I hate it.”
“Would you like me to prepare a drink?” the AI asks.
You hesitate. “…Sure?”
A panel in the wall slides open. You jump slightly. “Okay that’s new.”
A glass slides out, filled with something. You stare at it. “I don’t trust it.”
Bucky crosses his arms. “Drink it.”
“What if it kills me.”
“Then we know not to drink it.”
You glare at him. “Helpful.”
He shrugs. You sigh and take the glass. “If I die, it’s your fault.”
You take a cautious sip, then you pause.
“Okay wait.” You take another sip. “That’s actually really good.”
Bucky rolls his eyes. “Of course it is.”
You lean back slightly. “This universe is weird.”
“Yeah.”
You glance at him again. Then smirk. “Mrs. Barnes.”
He points at you. “Say that again and I’m leaving you here.”
You grin. “Relax.” You take another sip. “At least this one’s entertaining.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah…for now.”
Bucky leans back against the wall with his arms crossed, watching you like this is the most entertaining thing he’s seen all day.
You glance at him again. And immediately start smiling. “This is still so weird.”
“Yeah,” he says. “You’re still a guy.”
You point at him. “You’re still–” you pause, trying not to laugh again, “–you.”
He narrows his eyes. “Finish that sentence.”
You grin. “I was gonna say shorter, but I figured you’d get mad.”
“I’m not shorter.”
“You are.”
“I am not.”
“You are literally–” you stand up and walk over to him, holding your hand above his head, “ –this much shorter.”
He swats your hand away. “Back up.”
You laugh and step back. “Unbelievable.”
“Your perception is inaccurate,” the AI chimes in.
You both pause. “What?” you say.
“Mrs. Barnes is approximately 4.3 inches shorter than your current height.”
You point at Bucky, delighted.
“HA–”
“Stop talking,” he says to the ceiling.
“I am providing factual clarification,” the AI replies.
“I didn’t ask for it.”
“You did not. However, your disagreement triggered corrective response protocols.”
You’re trying so hard not to laugh again. Bucky just pinches the bridge of his nose. “I hate this place.”
“I love this place,” you say immediately.
“Of course you do.”
You take another sip of your drink. “Okay but seriously,” you say, looking around again, “this universe is insane.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Everything’s watching us.”
“Monitoring,” the AI corrects.
You point upward. “See…that.”
“Your heart rate is slightly elevated again.”
“Oh my God.”
“Cause: continued proximity to Mrs. Barnes.”
You choke on your drink. Bucky immediately loses it.
“Oh my god,” you cough, wiping your mouth. “STOP calling him that.”
“Mrs. Barnes is the correct designation.”
“It is not–”
“Based on current identity records, Sergeant James Barnes is legally registered as–”
“STOP.”
Silence. You take a breath. “Thank you.”
“Would you like me to disable romantic identification labels?”
You blink. “No – just…don’t say it out loud.”
“Understood.”
You glance at Bucky. He’s trying not to laugh. You narrow your eyes. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“Probably.”
You roll your eyes and sit back down. There’s a brief moment of quiet.
Then–
“Updated observation,” the AI says.
You close your eyes. “No.”
“Increased dopamine and oxytocin levels detected.”
“NO.”
“Correlation indicates attraction toward–”
“STOP TALKING.”
“–Mrs. Barnes.”
You bury your face in your hands. “Oh my God.”
Bucky is laughingnow. “This is incredible.”
“Shut up.”
“Your body is betraying you.”
“I hate you.”
“Further analysis suggests–”
“NO!”
“–prolonged exposure may increase emotional attachment.”
You look up at the ceiling. “I’m going to rip you out of the wall.”
“That is not possible. I am integrated into all core systems.”
Bucky is practically wheezing. “This is the best universe.”
You stand up and swat his arm. “Stop laughing!”
“OW, hey!” He grabs his arm. “You can’t hit me!”
“Yes I can!”
“I’m a girl in this universe!”
You stare at him. “I will hit you if I want to hit you.”
He raises his hands slightly.
“Okay, okay – violent.”
“You deserved it.”
He’s still grinning.
You cross your arms. “And also – it doesn’t even make sense.”
“What doesn’t?”
You gesture vaguely between the two of you. “This.”
“What about it?”
“You heard what it said!”
“Yeah.”
“It said I’m attracted to you.”
“And?”
You stare at him. “You’re a girl.”
He raises an eyebrow. Then smirks. “You know that’s legal now, right?”
You freeze. “What?”
“I may be from the 40s,” he continues, clearly enjoying this, “but even I know women can like women now.”
You stare at him, then shove his shoulder. “Shut up.”
He laughs. “You walked right into that one.”
“You know what I meant!”
“Do I?”
“Yes!”
You gesture again, frustrated. “I mean – I’m not–” You stop. “…you know what I mean.”
Bucky is fully laughing now. “You’re really struggling here.”
“Oh my God.”
“I mean,” he shrugs, “seems pretty straightforward to me.”
“It’s not!”
“You like me.”
“I do not!”
“You’re literally being monitored saying otherwise.”
You point at the ceiling again. “That thing is WRONG.”
“I am not wrong,” the AI says.
“STOP.”
Silence again. You take a deep breath. “Okay.” You point between you again. “This is just…this universe.”
“Sure.”
“It’s not…normal.”
“Right.”
“It’s just – whatever’s going on here.”
“Mmhm.”
You narrow your eyes. “Why do you sound like you don’t believe me.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He smirks.
You groan and drop your head back. “This is ridiculous.”
“Yeah.”
You sit there for a second. Then glance at him again. “You still look weird.”
“You look weird.”
“I look better than you.”
“That’s not true,” he says.
“It is.”
“It’s not.”
“It is.”
“Whatever,” he says.
You sigh, leaning back slightly. “Okay.” You take another sip of your drink. “This universe is gonna be a problem.”
“Yeah,” he says. “But it’s kinda funny.”
You glance at him again. “A little.”
He smiles slightly. “Yeah.”
“User’s nausea has decreased,” the AI adds.
You blink. “Okay that part I like.”
“Would you like another drink?”
You consider it. “Yeah, actually.”
The wall opens again. You shake your head. “I’m never getting used to that.”
Bucky watches you take the new glass. “You’re really settling in here.”
You shrug. “I mean…if we’re stuck here for a bit–” You take a sip. “–might as well enjoy the chaos.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
You look at him again. Then smirk. “Mrs. Barnes.”
He immediately points at you. “Don’t start again.”
Bucky eventually points toward the door. “I’m going back to my room before you call me Mrs. Barnes again.”
You grin. “No promises.”
He points at you. “You’re annoying in every universe.”
“You like me anyway.”
He rolls his eyes but there’s the tiniest smile there before he turns and heads for the door. The automatic door slides open for him, then closes behind him.
You flop back onto the bed with a sigh. The lights dim slightly. “Okay that’s creepy.”
“Sleep mode activated,” the AI says calmly.
You groan, then eventually curl up under the blanket and fall asleep.
--
The next morning, a strange sound wakes you up. Not a normal alarm, more like soft chiming mixed with music.
Your eyes crack open. “What the hell is that.”
The sound keeps going. You sit up and look around the room. “Where is it even coming from?”
Finally you groan. “Hey AI lady, can you turn that off?”
“Of course.”
The sound immediately stops. You sigh in relief.
“Good morning,” the AI says pleasantly.
You rub your eyes. “Morning.”
“The weather today is seventy-two degrees with low humidity and light cloud cover.” You blink slowly. “You have training at 0800, tactical review at 1100, lunch with Mr. Romanoff at 1230, and combat simulations at 1500.”
You stare blankly ahead. “What.”
“Your sleep quality was below average, likely due to mild multiversal instability symptoms.”
You freeze slightly. “You know about that?”
“I am aware that your current biological patterns do not match this universe’s baseline records.”
You stare at the ceiling. “Cool.” There’s a pause. Then you ask, “What’s your name?”
“I am FRIDAY.”
You smile slightly. “Okay.”
“Your nausea levels remain mild this morning. Would you like another electrolyte drink?”
You glance toward the wall panel suspiciously. “Maybe later.”
You drag yourself out of bed and start getting dressed. You’re digging through drawers trying to find a bra before you suddenly freeze.
“Right…” you stare down at yourself, “…don’t need one.” You burst out laughing quietly again. “This universe is so weird.”
Eventually you finish getting ready and head downstairs. The kitchen somehow looks even more futuristic than your room. Everything is white and sleek and curved. There are holograms above the counters. Some appliances don’t even look like appliances.
You step into the room and immediately spot Bucky standing off to the side. You walk over toward him, then accidentally glance around the room and nearly lose it.
Female Thor is sitting at the island eating fruit. Male Natasha is leaning against the counter talking to female Steve. Female Tony is standing at the far counter holding coffee.
You immediately cover your mouth. Bucky gives you a warning look, like Stop it.
“Stop laughing,” he whispers.
“I can’t help it,” you whisper back.
You glance at female Thor again and nearly choke trying not to laugh. Bucky elbows you lightly. “Focus.”
You clear your throat. “Where’s the coffee?”
Bucky gestures vaguely. “I have no idea how anything in this kitchen works.”
You snort. “You didn’t even try?”
“No.”
You shake your head, amused. “I’m at least getting water.”
You walk over to one of the cabinets after seeing Sam grab a glass. The cabinet opens automatically. “Okay…”
You grab a glass, then hold it under the faucet. Water immediately pours out automatically. You stare at it, then walk back over to Bucky holding the water.
“I’m scared.”
Bucky snorts. “Just drink it.”
Then suddenly, Tony looks up. “Oh good, you’re here.” You freeze. Tony points at you and Bucky. “I need to talk to you two.”
You slowly turn. “Why.”
“Because FRIDAY told me you’re from another universe.”
You immediately inhale water directly into your lungs. You start choking and coughing violently.
Bucky grabs your shoulder. “You good?” he asks, trying not to laugh.
“WHAT?” you yell. “No we’re not…”
Everyone else starts laughing. Tony raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, very convincing denial.”
You cough again. “No, we’re not–”
“Sure,” Sam says.
You glare upward. “Seriously, FRIDAY?”
“I am programmed to alert Mrs. Stark regarding any disruptions or inconsistencies.”
You immediately smile again. You cover your mouth to stop yourself from laughing.
Bucky elbows you, harder this time.
“Ow!”
Sam points at you. “Why are you laughing?”
“It’s nothing.” You glance around the room again. Then immediately cover your mouth again.
Bucky elbows you even harder. “Stop.”
“I’m trying!”
Tony crosses his arms. “Okay seriously. What is wrong with you two?”
You finally sigh. “Okay. In our universe…” you point around the room. “…you’re all the opposite gender.”
Silence. Then Sam nods. “Oh, yeah this is one of the few universes where we’re this gender.”
You blink. “Wait, you’ve been to other universes?”
Tony looks confused. “Yes?”
You stare. “WHAT?”
Tony shrugs casually. “This universe developed multiversal travel decades ago.”
You and Bucky both stare. “WHAT?!”
Sam laughs. “You guys are really behind.”
Tony walks over excitedly now. “Most universes can’t sustain multiversal return travel though, so we don’t visit other universes often.”
“What universe are you from?” Steve asks.
You and Bucky glance at each other. “I have no idea.”
Tony lights up immediately. “Oh this is fascinating. I can probably run tests.”
You step forward hopefully. “Wait – if you can figure it out, can you send us back?”
Tony hesitates. “How did you get here?”
Bucky sighs, then quickly explains the mission and the machine in the warehouse. “Every jump has put us into our versions of ourselves in that universe. We don’t control where it sends us.”
Tony nods slowly while listening. “Hmm.”
Your stomach drops. “What.”
Tony points between you. “If I sent you back to your original universe…you wouldn’t go back into your original bodies.”
You blink. “What?”
“You’d arrive physically,” he says. “In these bodies.”
You stare at him. “What.”
Bucky groans loudly. “Oh great.”
Tony gestures apologetically. “The machine you’ve been using must be consciousness-based, so it transfers your consciousness, not your physical bodies. My system would physically transport you.”
You drag your hands down your face. “This keeps getting worse.”
Bucky crosses his arms. “So we still have to use the warehouse machine.”
“Probably,” Tony says.
You groan dramatically.
Tony brightens slightly. “But, I might be able to help.”
You narrow your eyes.
“This is exciting,” Tony says smiling.
“You’re terrifying,” you say.
“Thank you,” he says proudly.
A few minutes later, Tony drags you and Bucky out of the kitchen before either of you can ask more questions. “Come on.”
“Wait,” you say, nearly stumbling after him. “I haven’t even had coffee yet.”
“You’ll survive.”
“I’m literally multiverse sick.”
“Perfect test subject then.”
“That’s not comforting!”
Bucky walks beside you with his hands in his pockets. “I don’t trust you.”
“You shouldn’t,” Sam calls after you.
Tony points behind him while continuing down the hallway. “Quiet, Wilson.”
The elevator opens automatically. Tony steps inside, and you and Bucky follow. The doors close, then moments later opens into Tony’s lab. And you stop dead.
“Holy shit.”
The lab is massive. Holograms everywhere. Floating screens. Transparent displays. Robotic arms moving on their own. It looks less like a lab and more like a spaceship.
Tony grins proudly. “Pretty great, right?”
“This is insane.”
Bucky slowly looks around. “I hate how much I like this universe.”
Tony points at him. “That’s the correct reaction.”
You both follow him farther inside. FRIDAY’s voice fills the room.
“Good morning, Mrs. Stark.”
“Morning, FRIDAY.”
You smile again. Bucky immediately elbows you.
“Ow!”
“Stop laughing every time someone says that.”
“I can’t help it.”
Tony glances between you both. “Okay now I definitely want details later.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Tony waves you toward a platform. “Stand there.”
You narrow your eyes. “What’s this?”
“Scanner.”
“For what?”
“Everything.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
Bucky snorts.
Tony gestures impatiently. “Get on the platform.”
You step onto it reluctantly. A blue light scans over you from head to toe.
You flinch slightly. “Uhh.”
Tony watches a hologram pop up beside him. “Hm.” He gestures. “Interesting.”
“What’s interesting?” Bucky asks.
Tony zooms in on something. “You both have unusual neurological signatures.”
You blink. “Bad unusual?”
“Not necessarily.” He gestures to the hologram. “It looks like your consciousnesses are…displaced.”
You stare blankly. “What does that mean.”
“It means your bodies biologically belong here, but your neural patterns don’t.”
You point at yourself. “So my brain is illegal here.”
“Basically.”
“Cool.”
Tony keeps working. Another hologram appears showing branching lines.
“What’s that?” you ask.
“Theoretical multiversal overlap paths.”
You stare. “Those are words?”
Tony grins. “Yep.”
Bucky folds his arms. “Can you actually help us or not.”
Tony points at him. “Impatient.”
Then he flicks his fingers and a giant holographic map appears in the center of the room. Romania. The warehouse location lights up.
Your eyes widen. “That’s it.”
Tony zooms in. Then suddenly, the roof disappears. Now you can see inside.
You blink. “Okay that’s terrifying.”
The interior layout appears as a glowing hologram. You immediately point. “That room.”
Tony highlights it. Even from above you can clearly see the circular platform. Still there.
Bucky exhales slowly. “There it is.”
Tony walks around the hologram studying it. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “most universes haven’t even touched multiversal theory.”
You glance at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean most universes don’t even know alternate universes exist.” He gestures toward the machine. “So if this thing is connecting universes…it probably isn’t connected to that many.”
You relax slightly. “Okay. That makes me feel a little better.”
Tony nods. “If I had to guess…” He zooms out slightly. “I’d estimate somewhere between ten and one hundred connected universes.”
You stare at him. “…ONE HUNDRED?!”
Tony immediately holds up his hands. “That is absolutely worst-case scenario.”
“That’s still insane!”
“I’m intentionally not lowballing.”
You groan loudly and sit down on the edge of one of the lab tables. “Oh my God.”
Bucky rubs his face. “We’re never getting home.”
“You probably will,” Tony says casually.
“Probably is not comforting,” you say.
Tony points at the hologram. “Think about it. You’ve already passed through several, and if this machine only connects to universes with compatible multiversal signatures, that narrows it down significantly.”
You stare at him. “I sure hope so.”
Bucky gestures toward the machine hologram. “So what now?”
Tony enlarges the room again. “Well, you can’t safely jump during daylight. Too much activity.”
You nod. “Yeah.”
Tony points at the hologram. “So tonight we go here.” He circles the room. “I want direct access to the machine. And I want to monitor the jump.”
You frown. “Monitor it how?”
Tony grins. “Oh I’m putting trackers on both of you.”
You immediately point at him. “Absolutely not.”
“You won’t even notice them.”
“That’s somehow worse.”
Tony ignores you and keeps talking. “Okay, no trackers. But if I can gather enough data, I might be able to map the universe chain.”
You blink. “Wait really?”
“Possibly.”
Bucky narrows his eyes slightly. “Possibly again.”
Tony points at him. “You’re very negative for someone currently trapped in the multiverse.”
“I think that’s a reasonable situation to be negative in.”
“That’s fair.”
You slide off the table. “So tonight we jump again.”
Tony nods. “Yep.”
You sigh deeply. “Great.”
Then FRIDAY speaks again. “Your nausea levels are increasing slightly.”
You glare upward. “Stop announcing that.”
Tony immediately looks interested. “You’re nauseous?”
“Yes.”
“Every jump?”
“Pretty much.”
“Hm.” He types something quickly into a hologram. “That’s useful.”
You stare at him. “You’re acting like this is fun.”
“It is fun.”
“This is ruining my life.”
“And improving mine dramatically.”
Bucky snorts quietly.
You glare at both of them. “This is the worst universe.”
Tony points around the lab proudly. “That is false.”
After a while, Tony finally gets distracted by something else in the lab. Which apparently means talking to himself while six holograms float around his head at once. You and Bucky quietly escape before he can strap tracking devices onto you.
The kitchen is quieter now. You both end up sitting at the island with glasses of water. For a while, neither of you really says much.
You glance over at Bucky. He’s leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed, staring out one of the giant windows. Then you grin slightly.
“You still look weird.”
He doesn’t even look at you. “You’ve said that twelve times.”
“And I’ll say it thirteen.”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re annoying in every universe.”
“Yeah but now I’m annoying and taller.”
“That’s temporary.”
You grin. “It’s enough.”
More people slowly filter into the kitchen. All still wrong enough to make your brain short-circuit a little every time you look at them.
You keep having to hide smiles behind your water glass. Bucky notices every single one. “Stop looking at people like that.”
“I can’t help it.”
“You’re gonna offend somebody.”
“I’m trying not to!”
Then Natasha walks in and walks over to you. “So, are we still on for lunch?”
You blink. “Uhh, sure.”
“Do you wanna go to our usual place?”
You pause. “I don’t know where that is, but sure!”
Nat snorts softly. “Fair enough. Give me ten minutes to change.”
The second she’s gone, you look at Bucky.
“You think this universe Nat is gonna interrogate me too?”
“Yes.”
“Great.”
Bucky smirks slightly. “You’re easy to interrogate.”
You narrow your eyes. “That’s rude.”
“It’s true.”
About ten minutes later, Nat comes back dressed casually.
“Ready?”
You stand up. “Yep.”
You glance at Bucky. “Try not to die while I’m gone.”
Bucky just rolls his eyes and Nat looks between you both.
“You two are weird.”
You and Bucky immediately answer at the same time. “You have no idea.”
You follow Natasha out to the garage. The cars are somehow even more futuristic than everything else. Smooth white exteriors. No handles. The car unlocks automatically when Nat walks up.
You stop beside it. “This looks illegal.”
Nat smirks. “Wait til you ride in it.”
You pause. “I’m scared.”
The car drives almost silently. The city itself is different too. Cleaner. More advanced. Holographic advertisements everywhere. You stare out the window the entire drive.
“This universe is insane.”
Nat glances at you. “You like it though.”
“Maybe a little.”
Nat grins slightly. “I knew it.”
The brunch place is nice and modern, but somehow still futuristic. The menu appears as a hologram when you sit down. You immediately poke at it suspiciously.
Nat laughs. “You look eighty years old.”
“I hate technology.”
“No you don’t.”
“Okay maybe not this technology.”
Once you order, Natasha leans back slightly. “So, how are you liking this universe so far?”
You think for a second. “It’s weird. But also really nice. And honestly kinda funny,” you say smiling.
Nat laughs softly. “It is weird seeing myself as a girl in other universes.”
You point at him. “It’s weird seeing you as a guy.”
Then you pause. “You look pretty good though.”
Nat laughs. “Well thank you.”
You grin. “You’re welcome.”
Then Nat narrows her eyes slightly. “So. Are you and Barnes a thing in your universe?”
Your jaw drops instantly. “Oh my God.”
You point at her dramatically. “Why does every Natasha in every universe ask that?!”
She bursts out laughing. “That’s a yes.”
“It is not!”
“Mmhm.”
“We’re not together!”
Nat just keeps smiling knowingly. “Well. You will be.”
You groan loudly. “Oh my God. You’re all the same.”
Nat shrugs. “Obviously I’m smart in every universe.”
You laugh despite yourself. “Yeah right.”
“Come on. You’re traveling through the multiverse together. You’re already finishing each other’s sentences.”
You narrow your eyes. “We do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“No we don’t.”
“You literally answered me in sync this morning.”
You pause. “’That happened once.”
Nat gives you a look. “You’re doomed.”
You laugh and shake your head. “You sound exactly like the Nat in my universe.”
“Because I’m right.”
“You’re not.”
“Okay.” Nat takes a sip of her drink. “Then let me ask this.”
You already know you’re going to regret this. “What.”
“If Barnes kissed you right now…”
You nearly choke on your water. “Oh my God.”
Nat is fully laughing now. “You thought about it too long!”
“I did not!”
“You absolutely did.”
You point at Nat accusingly. “You are evil.”
“Probably.”
You groan and lean back in your chair. “This is harassment.”
“It’s observational analysis.”
“Now you sound like the AI.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
You laugh again. Then eventually the conversation shifts into other things. What your universe is like. How different the tech is. What universes you’ve already visited.
Nat listens carefully while eating. “So the machine just randomly throws you places?”
“Basically.”
“That sounds horrifying.”
“It is.” You poke at your food slightly. “I’m getting kinda tired of jumping honestly.”
Nat’s expression softens a little.
“I bet.”
You shrug. “I just want to get home.”
“You will.”
You smile faintly. “Hopefully.”
Lunch eventually finishes and you both head back out to the car. As you get in, Nat glances over at you.
“For what it’s worth…” You look over. “I really do think you and Barnes end up together.”
You groan dramatically and drop your head back against the seat. “Please stop saying that.”
Nat laughs while the car pulls away from the curb.
--
When you get back to the compound, the elevator opens into the common room and everyone’s already there. Tony is sitting on the couch with a hologram floating over his tablet. Sam and Clint are arguing over something. Bucky is stretched out in one of the chairs.
The second he sees you walk in, he immediately says, “Thank God.”
You laugh. “What?”
“I’m tired of being interrogated.”
Sam points at him. “You started it by being mysterious.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“You’re literally from another universe,” Clint says. “That’s automatically suspicious.”
You flop down onto the couch beside Bucky with a sigh.
Nat walks farther into the room. “You’re proving me right, by the way.”
You immediately sit up. “No I’m not!”
Bucky narrows his eyes. “About what.”
Nat smirks. “You’ll figure it out.”
You point at him accusingly. “You’re evil in every universe.”
“Probably.”
Thor looks between you both. “This realm appears entertaining.”
“You have no idea,” you mutter.
Tony suddenly looks up from his tablet. “So.” He points at you. “What’s your universe like?”
You shrug slightly. “Normal compared to this one.”
Sam grins. “So less cool.”
“Way less cool.”
“Obviously,” Tony says.
Clint leans forward. “Do we all still know each other there?”
“Yeah.”
Then Sam asks, “So what’s the weirdest universe you’ve been to?”
You glance at Bucky. Then both of you start laughing immediately.
Tony points between you. “That reaction means something.”
You shake your head. “You don’t wanna know.”
“Yes we do.”
“No.”
“Absolutely yes.”
Bucky rubs his face. “They’re never gonna stop asking questions.”
“Nope,” Nat says cheerfully.
You groan and lean back against the couch. “I miss not having to explain the multiverse every twelve seconds.”
--
Later that night, everyone boards the quinjet. The flight to the warehouse is quieter this time. You sit beside Bucky while Tony scrolls through holographic displays across from you.
You glance over at him. “What are you doing?”
“Thinking.”
“That’s dangerous.”
Tony grins. “It usually is.”
Bucky leans his head back against the wall. “I’m tired.”
You nod immediately. “Me too.”
Tony points at you both without looking up. “Multiversal fatigue.”
“That’s a thing?”
“Probably.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“Nothing about this situation is reassuring.”
The jet lands, and the walk to the warehouse feels weirdly familiar now. Which is probably not a good sign. Once inside, Tony immediately starts poking around the machine room again. Except this time, he bursts out laughing.
You blink. “What?”
He gestures around dramatically. “This is ancient.”
You stare at him. “What?!”
Bucky crosses his arms. “It looked advanced to us.”
Tony points at one of the monitors. “This thing has physical buttons.”
You glance at Bucky and roll your eyes.
Tony keeps looking around with delighted horror. “This is adorable.”
“You just called multiverse tech adorable?” Bucky says, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes.” He crouches beside one of the computers. “This is like someone built a Ferrari out of cardboard and hope.”
You snort. “That feels rude.”
“It’s accurate.”
He taps through several systems again while the others spread out through the room. After a while he sighs and straightens up. “Okay. So.”
You immediately tense. “So?”
Tony gestures toward the machine. “There’s no way to direct the jumps from here.”
Your shoulders slump slightly. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Bucky rubs his face. “Great.”
“My best guess? You’ll either keep jumping until you pass through every connected universe…” Tony gestures in a circle. “…and eventually loop back to your own. Or, you randomly hit your home universe before completing the chain.”
“Hopefully that one,” you say.
“Yeah,” Bucky says immediately.
Tony chuckles slightly. “I figured.”
You look at the machine again. “So basically…we still just blindly jump and hope for the best.”
“Pretty much.”
You groan quietly.
Tony’s expression softens a little. “But.”
You look back at him.
“I’m gonna keep studying your scans. And this machine. If there’s a way to help you, I’ll try to find it.”
You laugh weakly. “Thanks.”
Bucky nods too. “Seriously.”
Tony shrugs. “You’re interesting.”
“That somehow feels insulting.”
“It’s not.”
You take a breath and step toward the platform. The machine hums softly already. Energy flickers through the cables. Bucky steps up beside you. You glance back one last time at everyone.
“Bye.”
Sam waves. “Try not to get stranded.”
Thor raises a hand proudly. “Safe travels.”
Tony points at you both. “And if you find another universe with cool tech, take pictures.”
You shake your head, smiling despite yourself. Then you turn back toward the machine. Your stomach already twists slightly in anticipation.
Bucky glances at you. “Ready?”
You exhale slowly. “No. But let’s do it.”
The machine powers up fully. The room tilts. Your vision blurs.
Everything goes black.
----
Author's Note: Hey guys!!! Sorry for the wait! Thanks to everyone who has checked in, I've just been busy! I know this one was a little shorter, but hope you still enjoyed it!
Summary: During a mission, you and Bucky accidentally trigger a machine that sends you to a different universe. As you travel the multiverse together, you have to find each other in every universe. But will you ever make it back to your original universe?
Word Count: 7,029
You gasp. Your whole body jerks upright like you just woke up from a nightmare.
Your stomach flips hard, and for a second you feel slightly nauseous, like the floor tilted underneath you.
You blink rapidly. The world slowly comes back into focus. You’re sitting at a long conference table. Papers. Laptops. People.
The Avengers conference room.
Steve has stopped talking mid-sentence. Everyone is staring at you. Sam snorts. Clint chuckles.
Tony leans back in his chair. “Well that was dramatic.”
You blink again, trying to get your bearings. “I’m fine,” you say quickly. Your stomach still feels a little off. “I just–” You pause. “I just need a second.”
Your eyes move immediately to Bucky. He’s sitting across the table from you. But something’s wrong.
He’s just staring at you with his eyebrows drawn together like he’s confused. Really confused. Your stomach tightens. You slowly push your chair back and stand up. You keep looking at him, but he doesn’t move.
You tilt your head slightly toward the door. A silent motion to say ‘follow me.’ He doesn’t react, he just keeps staring. You start walking toward the door anyway. When you open the door and look back, he’s still sitting there looking confused.
You frown. “…Bucky.”
Now he looks even more confused. Your stomach twists again.
“Will you come with me?” you ask.
He glances around the table. Everyone else looks mildly entertained. He shrugs slightly.
“Uhh…yeah I guess.”
He slowly gets up and walks after you. You step into the hallway and he follows. The door closes behind you as you start walking down the hall.
Your heart is beating faster now. Behind you, you hear his footsteps. Finally he says, “What’s going on?”
You stop walking. You turn around. “What do you mean what’s going on?”
He looks genuinely confused. “Why did you need me?”
You stare at him. “What?”
“You pulled me out of the meeting.”
Your brain stutters. “Stop joking around.”
“I’m not joking.” He looks at you like he has absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. “I’m confused. What’s going on?”
Your chest tightens. You shake your head. “Bucky, knock it off.”
He looks even more confused. “I’m not doing anything.”
You stare at him. Your heart starts racing. “No.” Your voice comes out quieter now. “You’re not doing this right now.”
He frowns. “Doing what?”
You shake your head. Your brain is starting to panic. “So you’re from this universe?”
His eyebrows pull together again. “…What?”
“You’re from this universe?” you repeat.
He stares at you.
“Like you’ve always been here?” you ask.
He looks genuinely concerned now. “What are you talking about?”
Your chest tightens. Your heart starts pounding harder. “No no no–” You shake your head again. “You didn’t come with me.”
He stares at you like you’re losing it. “Come with you where?”
You take a step back. “You’re from this universe.”
Now he looks worried. “What–”
Then suddenly–
He gasps.
His whole body jerks slightly, which makes you jump too.
He blinks. “Oh hey.”
You stare at him.
He glances down the hallway, looking around, then looks back at you. “Good thing we were already talking to each other in this universe, huh?”
Relief slams into your chest so hard you almost feel dizzy. Before you can stop yourself, you punch him square in the chest. Hard.
He stumbles back. “OW! What the hell was that for?!”
“What took you so long?!”
He rubs his chest. “What are you talking about?!”
“I’ve been here for like five minutes!”
“You have?”
“Yes!” You throw your hands up. “We were in a meeting and I woke up and you were just sitting there staring at me like you didn’t know who I was!”
He blinks. “…Oh.”
“And I had to ask you to come with me!”
He winces slightly as you keep going.
“And you kept acting like I was crazy and I thought you were joking and then I realized you might actually be from this universe and I was freaking out!” You gesture wildly. “And I was trying not to panic because everyone was in the room and I didn’t want them to think I was insane!”
He raises his hands slightly. “Hey, hey.”
“I thought I lost you!”
“I’m here!”
“You took forever!”
“I didn’t do that on purpose!”
You glare at him. He tries not to smile, which only makes you glare harder.
“I was worried!”
“I know.” He rubs the back of his neck. “For me it just happened.”
You blink. “What?”
“I just gasped and woke up. Just now.”
You stare at him. “…Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“So you didn’t have to wait?”
“No.”
You cross your arms. “That’s not fair.”
He chuckles quietly. “Sorry.”
You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “This universe thing is ridiculous.”
“No argument there.”
You both stand there for a second. Then he says, “Why do you think we didn’t arrive at the same time?”
You shrug. “Maybe the machine isn’t precise.”
“Or maybe it sends us separately.”
“That would be annoying.”
He nods. “Very.”
You glance back down the hallway toward the conference room. “We should go back.”
“Yeah.”
You sigh. “Before they think something weird happened.”
He smirks slightly. “You punching me in the hallway might already qualify.”
You glare at him again. “Let’s go.”
You and Bucky walk back down the hallway toward the conference room. Your stomach still feels slightly unsettled.
Right before you reach the door, Bucky leans a little closer. “Do you think we’re dating in this universe too?” he whispers.
You stop walking for half a second. Then slowly turn your head and glare at him. He just looks back at you innocently.
You keep walking. “I highly doubt it,” you mutter.
He leans closer again. “Well if we are,” he whispers, “they definitely think we just left for a quickie.”
You immediately reach over and whack him in the chest with the back of your hand.
“OW!” he whisper-yells, grabbing his chest. “Stop doing that!”
“Well then shut up.”
You push the conference room door open. Bucky is halfway through opening his mouth to say something else to you, but the door is already open. The entire room looks up. Sam bursts out laughing instantly. Clint leans back in his chair and starts wiggling his eyebrows aggressively. Natasha raises one eyebrow. Wanda just smiles at both of you.
You pretend none of this is happening and walk around the right side of the table. You drop back into your chair like everything is completely normal. Behind you, Bucky hesitates. He clearly doesn’t know where he was sitting before. He glances around. The only empty chair is on the opposite side of the table, so he walks over and sits down.
The second you start pulling your chair in, Tony leans forward with a grin. “Well that was quick.”
Bucky glances at you. Just a tiny look. But the message is very clear. See? I told you.
You narrow your eyes just enough to glare at him. Then you immediately look back at Steve.
Sam leans forward across the table. “So?”
You stare straight ahead. “So what?”
Clint points between the two of you. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
Tony snorts. “Nothing?”
“Yes.”
Sam laughs again. “You dragged him out of the meeting.”
“It was just a minute,” you say.
Clint wiggles his eyebrows again. “A very productive minute.”
You close your eyes briefly. “Oh my God.”
Natasha tilts her head. “Did you at least learn anything?”
You open your eyes again. “Yes.”
Sam leans closer. “What?”
You stare at him. “That you’re all annoying.”
Wanda laughs softly.
Tony taps the table. “Barnes?”
Bucky raises his hands slightly. “Nothing happened.”
Clint grins. “You expect us to believe that?”
“Yes.”
Sam leans back in his chair. “I absolutely do not.”
You take a slow breath. Your stomach flips again slightly. You feel tired. Very tired. You rub your forehead.
Steve finally raises his hand slightly. “Alright.” Everyone quiets down. “Let’s focus.”
Sam sits back in his chair. But he’s still smiling. Clint is definitely still smirking. Natasha is watching both of you like she knows something.
Steve gestures toward the screen at the front of the room. “Now.” He clears his throat. “As I was saying before–”
You try to focus. Really, you do. But your brain feels like it’s still spinning from the universe jump. The words Steve is saying barely register. Something about intel. Coordinates. Recon reports.
You blink slowly. Your stomach flips again. You shift slightly in your chair. Across the table, Bucky glances at you. You give him a small I’m fine look. He raises an eyebrow.
Tony notices. “Oh my god.”
Steve stops talking again. “Tony.”
Tony points between the two of you. “You two keep doing that.”
“Doing what?” you ask.
“Secret looks.”
“We are not doing secret looks.”
Clint leans forward. “You absolutely are.”
Sam grins. “You guys are terrible at hiding things.”
Bucky rubs his face. “We’re not hiding anything.”
Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Sure.”
Steve sighs. “Can we please continue the meeting?”
Everyone quiets down again. Mostly. But you can still feel people sneaking glances at you. Sam whispers something to Clint. Clint snorts.
You close your eyes for a second. You’re so tired. And still a little nauseous. And very aware that everyone in this room thinks something happened in the hallway.
You try to listen, but your brain keeps drifting. Eventually you realize Wanda is watching you. You blink. She smiles slightly, then looks back at the screen like she didn’t just catch you zoning out.
You sigh quietly and lean back in your chair. This is going to be a very long meeting.
--
The meeting finally ends what feels like five hours later, even though it was probably only one.
Steve closes the folder in front of him. “Alright,” he says. “That’s everything.”
Clint grabs his tablet. “I thought that was never gonna end.”
Tony stands up and points at you and Bucky. “I still have questions.”
Bucky groans. “No.”
You stand up slowly, still feeling slightly off. Your stomach flips again just a little. You grab the back of your chair to steady yourself. You’re about to follow everyone else out when–
“Hey.”
You look up. Steve is still standing at the end of the table. “Can you stay a second?”
Your stomach sinks slightly. “…Sure.”
You glance toward the door, and Bucky is almost out the door.
“Buck,” Steve says.
Bucky pauses and turns around. “Yeah?”
“Come back for a minute.”
Bucky walks back slowly. You can tell he’s a little wary. You are too.
Steve leans against the table. “You okay?” he asks you.
You nod quickly. “Yeah.” You rub the back of your neck. “I just…don’t feel very good today.”
Steve studies you. “Sick?”
“Maybe.” You shrug. “Just kind of nauseous.”
Steve nods slowly. “Alright.”
Then he gestures between you and Bucky. “Why did you pull him out of the meeting earlier?”
You pause. Your brain scrambles for something that makes sense. “Oh.” You nod slightly. “I was talking to him earlier about not feeling great.”
Bucky glances at you. You keep going.
“And it started getting worse so I just…asked him if he had anything for nausea.”
Steve watches you. Still a little skeptical. You realize quickly that in this universe you and Bucky probably don’t talk much, which is why this looks weird.
But after a second Steve nods. “Alright.” Then he gestures toward the door. “Get some rest.”
You nod immediately. “Okay.”
Bucky nods too. You both head out into the hallway. The second the door closes behind you, you let out a long breath. “That was stressful.”
Bucky snorts. “You handled it fine.”
You walk down the hallway together toward his room. He opens the door and steps aside. You walk inside and immediately head for the bed. You flop face-first onto it. “Ugh.”
Bucky shuts the door behind you. “What now?”
You roll onto your back. “I feel nauseous.”
Bucky makes a face. “You better not throw up on my bed.”
But he’s already grabbing the trash can from beside his desk. He walks over and sets it next to the bed. “Just in case.”
You squint at him. “I’m not going to throw up.”
“Good.”
He walks over to the mini fridge in the corner. He grabs a water bottle and brings it over and sets it on the nightstand beside you.
You sigh. “Thanks.”
He leans against the dresser. “So.”
You stare at the ceiling. “Do you think I’m actually sick in this universe?”
He shakes his head. “I doubt it.”
“You think it’s the universe jumping?”
“Probably.”
You groan quietly. “Fantastic.”
Bucky crosses his arms. “What I don’t get is why we showed up at different times.”
You sit up slightly. “Yeah.”
“That was weird.”
You think for a moment. “Maybe it has something to do with whatever those people were doing with the machine.”
He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”
“You remember how there were people at the computers when we got there?”
“Yeah.”
“They were running something.” You gesture vaguely. “Maybe they changed something with the machine before we got there.”
Bucky nods slowly. “That’s possible.”
You sigh. “Maybe next time we should actually look at the machine.”
He laughs. “Look at it how?”
“I don’t know.”
“Neither of us knows how that thing works.”
“Exactly.”
He points toward the door. “That’s Tony or Bruce territory.”
You nod. “Yeah.”
“We’d definitely need one of them.”
You slowly sit up and grab the water bottle. You take a sip, and it helps a little, but not much.
Bucky watches you. “How you feeling?”
“A little better,” you say, shrugging. “Still tired though.”
You pull your phone out of your pocket. “I’m gonna check my calendar.”
“Okay,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I will too.”
You open the calendar app. Then blink. “…What.”
You scroll. There’s nothing. It’s absolutely empty. You scroll back farther. Still empty.
Your entire calendar is blank. You sigh dramatically. “Of course.”
Bucky looks over. “What?”
“I don’t use my calendar in this universe.”
He chuckles. “That tracks.”
He grabs his tablet off the desk. “JARVIS,” he says.
“Yes, Mr. Barnes?”
“What’s on my schedule today?”
“You have nothing else planned for the remainder of the afternoon and evening.”
Bucky grins. “Huh. That’s nice.”
You yawn. “That means I can take a nap.”
Bucky glances at you. “JARVIS.”
“Yes, Mr. Barnes?”
“What’s y/n’s schedule for the rest of the day?”
“She has a meeting scheduled for 3:00.”
You freeze, then sit straight up. “What?! That’s not fair.”
Bucky laughs. “Looks like I can take a nap though.”
He walks over and flops down onto the bed beside you. He stretches out and lets out a very content sigh.
You roll your eyes, then swat his chest.
He glares at you. “Rude.”
“You’re annoying.” You stand up and grab the water bottle. “I’m going to my room.”
“Why?”
“To see if I can find anything useful before whatever stupid meeting I have.”
Bucky crosses his arms behind his head. “Have fun.”
You flip him off. “Thanks.”
“Don’t throw up!” he calls after you.
You open the door. “I’m not going to throw up!”
You step out into the hallway and shut the door behind you. You’re almost at your door when another one opens. Natasha steps out of her room and immediately notices you. Her eyes flick down the hallway you just came from, then back to you.
“Where are you coming from?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow.
Before your brain even processes the question or thinks about lying, you answer. “Bucky’s room.”
You stop walking, realizing what you just said.
Natasha’s eyebrow raises even higher. Then she smirks. “Oh.”
You groan immediately. “Don’t.”
She folds her arms. “You needed another round after the meeting?”
You drag a hand down your face. “Oh my God. Nothing is going on.”
Natasha tilts her head. “Uh huh. Sure.”
You sigh. “I’m not feeling well.”
She doesn’t look convinced. “What kind of not well?”
“Nauseous. I was talking to Bucky earlier about it, and I just asked if he had anything for it.”
Natasha narrows her eyes slightly. “Why would he have anything?”
You blink. “What?”
“He’s a super soldier. He doesn’t get sick.”
You pause. “I realize that now, but I wasn’t exactly thinking about that earlier.”
Natasha watches you closely. “So you just went to his room.”
“Yes.”
“Because you felt nauseous.”
“Yes.”
She takes a slow step toward you. “And you stayed there.”
“We talked for a minute.”
She tilts her head again. “Did he give you the water?”
You lift the bottle slightly. “…Yes.”
Natasha slowly nods. “Interesting.”
You roll your eyes. “Oh my God.”
You turn and keep walking toward your door.
Behind you, Nat calls down the hallway, “I’ll be watching you.”
You open your door. “Whatever,” you call back.
You step inside and shut it behind you. Your room looks mostly the same as it does in your universe. You set your phone and the water bottle on the nightstand, then walk over to the desk. There’s a stack of files sitting there, so you flip through them. There’s some reports and mission notes, but nothing useful. You sigh and drop them back onto the desk.
You glance around the room. Some of your stuff is exactly the same, but other things are different. A few different books. Different notes pinned to the wall. Different folders.
You sit on the edge of the bed. Then slowly lay back and stare at the ceiling. You’re just going to chill for a bit until your meeting.
You definitely won’t fall asleep. You’re just resting your eyes.
--
You wake up to someone nudging your shoulder. You groan.
When you crack your eyes open, Bucky is standing over you.
“What,” you mumble.
“Forget about something?”
You blink slowly. “What?”
“Your meeting.”
You stare at him. “What?”
“It’s soon.”
You immediately pull the blanket over your head. “Ughhhhh. Tell them I threw up.”
There’s a pause. “You did?” Bucky’s voice suddenly sounds concerned. “Are you okay?”
Your muffled voice comes from under the blanket. “I didn’t. Just tell them I did.”
He chuckles, then grabs the blanket.
You cling to it immediately. “Hey–”
You both struggle with it for a second, but he finally pulls it off.
You groan loudly. “That’s not fair. You have super soldier strength.”
He offers his hand. “Come on. You can’t miss your meeting.”
You glare at him, then finally grab his hand so he can pull you up. You sit there for a second looking miserable.
He studies your face. “Well, you look happy.”
You roll your eyes. “I’m thrilled.”
He leans against the dresser. “How are you feeling?”
“Not nauseous anymore.” You yawn. “Just tired.”
You stand up and grab your hairbrush. You start running it through your hair while walking toward the mirror.
“So,” you say. “Do you know what the meeting’s about?”
“No idea.”
You pause. “Great.”
You grab your tablet off the desk. “JARVIS.”
“Yes?”
“What meeting do I have at three?”
“There is a briefing scheduled in Conference Room C regarding possible intel on multiverse experiments in Romania.”
You freeze. Then slowly look up.
Bucky is already staring at you. Both of your eyes go wide.
“…Romania?” you say.
“That’s where the warehouse was,” Bucky says.
You both stare at each other. A huge wave of relief hits you.
“They know about it in this universe.”
Bucky nods. “Yeah.” He frowns slightly. “Why am I not going to the meeting?”
You shrug. “If it’s just possible intel, that means it’s early. They’re probably only putting certain people on it until they know more.”
Bucky nods slowly. “That makes sense.”
You grin slightly.
“Aka…I’m better than you.”
He rolls his eyes. “Sure.”
You grab your phone. The time makes your stomach drop. “Oh crap. It’s almost three.”
Bucky opens the door.
“I’ll be in my room. Let me know what they say.”
You nod. “Okay.”
You step into the hallway and head to the elevator as Bucky heads back towards his room.
When you get to the conference room, Fury is already standing at the front of the room. Steve is sitting near the center of the table, Tony is leaning back in his chair with a tablet, and Nat is sitting across from him.
All of them look up when you walk in.
“Wow, you look rough,” Tony says.
“Gee, thanks.”
“You okay?” Steve asks.
“Yeah, I just woke up from a nap.”
Before anyone can say anything else, Fury taps the remote in his hand and a powerpoint appears on the screen. “Alright. Let’s get started.”
You sit back in your chair and try very hard to pretend you don’t already know everything about this place. Fury clicks to the first slide. A satellite image fills the screen of the top of the warehouse. Your stomach flips slightly.
Fury gestures to the image. “A few days ago we detected unusual energy signatures coming from this location in Romania.”
Tony leans forward slightly. “What kind of energy?”
“Unknown.” Fury taps the screen again. “We believe whoever is operating out of this warehouse has access to multiverse-related intel, and possibly multiverse-related technology.”
Nat tilts her head slightly. “The energy signatures?”
Fury nods. “That’s our current theory.”
He changes the slide. Now there’s a zoomed image of the warehouse with circles drawn on it.
“Initial satellite recon shows five possible entry points.”
Five doors are circled. You stare at it. And before you even realize you’re talking–
“There’s one on the east end too.”
The room goes quiet. All of their heads slowly turn toward you. Your brain catches up with your mouth. Oh no. You immediately sit up straighter.
“Well – I’m assuming.” You gesture to the edge of the building. “There’s probably another door there. Based on the structure.” You try to sound casual. “Just a possibility.”
Fury studies the screen. Then nods slowly. “Good catch.”
Tony leans forward. “Yeah. That actually makes sense.”
Nat glances at you. A little too knowingly.
Fury moves to the next slide. “Thermal scans suggest minimal personnel.” The slide shows heat signatures inside the building. “Approximately ten to fifteen individuals.”
Steve leans forward. “Security?”
“Unknown.”
You squint at the image. Before you can stop yourself–
“There’s more than that.”
The words leave your mouth automatically. Everyone looks at you again.
You immediately correct yourself. “I mean–” You point to the screen. “If this section is equipment like it looks like…” You gesture vaguely. “They could have more people in the interior rooms.” You shrug slightly. “Just a possibility.”
Fury nods slowly. “That’s a fair assumption.”
Tony taps his chin. “Yeah, tech rooms usually have more people.”
Natasha’s eyes narrow slightly at you again.
You press your lips together and tell yourself to stop talking.
Fury changes slides again. Now it shows a rough interior layout based on scans. “This is our best estimate of the interior structure.” He points to the center. “We believe the energy signature is coming from somewhere in this central area.”’
Fury continues and talks about the plan to sweep the building.
You stare at the table. You know exactly what’s in that building. You know exactly what that machine looks like. You know exactly where the people were. You know exactly what they were doing. And you’re just sitting here pretending.
Your brain starts racing. This is stupid.
You glance at Steve. Then Tony. Then Natasha. They’re making plans for a place you’ve already been.
Finally you sigh. “Okay.”
Everyone looks at you again.
Fury stops mid-sentence. “Yes?”
You sit up straight. “I need to say something.”
Steve leans forward slightly. “What is it?”
You take a breath. “This is going to sound weird.”
Tony raises an eyebrow. “That’s never stopped anyone here before.”
You nod slightly. “I’m not from this universe.”
The room goes silent. Steve blinks. Tony tilts his head. Nat watches you carefully. Fury doesn’t move.
You continue. “In my universe we already had this mission.”
Steve frowns. “What do you mean?”
You gesture toward the screen. “The warehouse. We already went there.”
Natasha’s eyes narrow. “You’re serious.”
You nod. “When we went to sweep it…” You glance down briefly. “Bucky and I accidentally triggered a machine inside.”
Tony leans forward. “A machine?”
You nod. “Multiverse tech. That’s what causing the energy signatures.”
Fury folds his arms. “And it sent you here.”
You nod again. “Yes.”
You swallow. “This is actually the third universe we’ve been to.”
Steve looks stunned.
Tony just whispers, “…Holy shit.”
You continue explaining. “Every time we get sent somewhere new, we have to go back to the warehouse and trigger the machine again.”
Natasha leans forward slightly. “That’s why you two have been acting weird.”
You nod. “Yeah.”
Fury glances at the screen again. “That explains why you knew so much about the building.”
You nod. “I’ve already been inside.”
Steve runs a hand through his hair. “Where’s Buck?”
You sigh slightly. “He’s in his room.”
Fury gestures toward the door. “Get him in here.”
You nod and grab your phone. You call him, but it just rings. No answer. You lower the phone slowly.
“…He might’ve fallen asleep.”
Tony snorts. “Of course he did.”
You stand up. “I’ll go get him.”
Fury nods. “Make it quick.”
You get on the elevator, then head down the hallway toward Bucky’s room. When you reach his door, you don’t even bother knocking, you just open it.
Sure enough, he’s asleep.
Bucky is sprawled across the bed on top of the blankets like he definitely didn’t mean to fall asleep.
You walk over and lightly shake his shoulder. “Bucky.”
He doesn’t move. You shake him again.
“Bucky.”
He groans quietly and cracks one eye open. “…Hmm?”
“Get up.”
His eyes blink slowly. “…Why?”
“You need to come to the meeting.”
He squints at you. “…What meeting?”
“The one I just came from.”
He frowns. “…Why?”
“Because I told them everything.”
That wakes him up a little more. “You did?”
“Yes. And now they want you there too.”
He sighs. “Okay.”
But he still doesn’t get up. Instead he stretches slowly, reaching his arms up and yawning.
Then he sighs again. “You just had to ruin my nap didn’t you.”
You grab his arm and start pulling. “Let’s go, grumpy. They’re waiting on you.”
He groans. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”
He finally gets up and follows you to the door. You both go back to the conference room, and the second you step inside, everyone looks up.
Tony grins. “Someone was having a very good nap.”
Bucky rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”
You walk over toward the table, but when you turn around to sit down, you notice his hair. It’s sticking up everywhere.
You immediately laugh. “Oh my God.”
“What?”
You reach up and start smoothing it down. “Your hair.”
He doesn’t even argue. He just tilts his head slightly closer so you can reach better. You fix the worst of it, then drop your hands.
“There.”
You and Bucky both sit down, then Natasha raises an eyebrow from across the table.
She leans back in her chair. “So.” She gestures between the two of you. “Are you guys dating in your universe or what?”
Both of you answer immediately. “No.”
Natasha smirks slightly. “Well. I’m sure you will be after this.”
Bucky opens his mouth. You open yours too.
But before either of you can respond, Fury cuts in. “Alright. Let’s focus.”
Everyone quiets down again. Fury looks directly at Bucky.
“Barnes.”
“Yes sir.”
“Confirm what she told us.”
Bucky nods. “Everything she said is true.”
He explains the warehouse mission again, then the machines and the universe jumps.
Fury listens without interrupting, then starts asking questions. “How many universes have you visited?”
“Three so far.”
“Did the machine appear identical in each location?”
“Pretty much.”
“Any changes in energy output?”
Tony leans forward. “That’s a good question.”
Bucky shrugs. “Hard to tell. We didn’t exactly have time to run diagnostics.”
Tony nods slowly. “Fair.”
Steve folds his arms. “Why do you think you’re not going back to your original universe?”
You and Bucky glance at each other. “We’ve been trying to figure that out.”
Tony taps the table. “Maybe you’re just moving sequentially. Like…universe to universe.”
You nod slightly. “That was one of our theories.”
Bucky gestures with his hand. “Like maybe the machine is connected to specific universes and we have to pass through each one that has this machine before we can get back to ours.”
Steve nods slowly. “That’s possible.”
Natasha leans forward. “Or maybe the machine is unstable.”
Tony points at her. “That was my next thought. Maybe whoever built it didn’t finish calibrating it. So it just throws you somewhere random.”
You shrug. “That could be it.”
Fury speaks again. “Or someone intentionally set it that way.”
The room goes quiet.
Tony tilts his head. “That would be…inconvenient.”
Steve looks at Bucky. “Did the people inside the warehouse seem like they knew what they were doing?”
Bucky nods his head. “They looked like scientists.”
Tony snaps his fingers and leans forward. “If we go to the warehouse I can access their systems.”
You nod. “That’s what we were thinking too. Between you and Bruce you could probably figure something out.”
Tony blinks. “…Bruce?”
You blink too. “Yeah…Bruce Banner.”
Tony frowns. “The Hulk?”
“…Yeah.”
Natasha glances at Fury.
Fury answers flatly. “In this universe Banner left the Avengers years ago.”
Your eyebrows shoot up. “What?”
Steve nods. “He went back to India. We don’t know where he is now.”
You blink slowly. “…Oh.”
“In our universe he’s still with the Avengers.”
Tony leans back in his chair. “Well that would’ve been helpful.”
Natasha glances at the screen again.
“When should we go to the warehouse?”
You think for a second. “When we jumped here it was earlier today. There were people inside.”
Bucky nods. “But when we were there late at night before…”
“And early in the morning,” you add.
“It was empty.”
Tony nods. “So night mission.”
Steve looks at Fury. “That would give us the best chance.”
Fury considers it. Then nods once. “Tonight. Be ready to meet again before we leave.”
Chairs scrape back as everyone stands. You and Bucky are just about to head for the door when Tony suddenly says “wait.”
You pause. He points at you.
“So what was the other universe like?”
You blink. “What?”
Steve steps in beside him. “The first one you landed in.”
Natasha crosses her arms. “Yeah. How different was it?”
You and Bucky glance at each other. Then Bucky shrugs.
“Pretty similar.”
Tony squints. “That’s disappointing.”
“You want it to be weirder?” you ask.
“Yes.”
Steve gestures toward the hallway. “Walk and talk.”
You all start heading out of the conference room together. Tony immediately fires off another question.
“So did people look different?”
“No.”
“Did we look different?”
“No.”
Natasha tilts her head. “Were we Avengers there?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
Tony snaps his fingers. “Okay but were we cooler?”
You laugh. “You were about the same amount of annoying.”
“Rude.”
Steve looks thoughtful. “What about the world? Any major differences?”
You shrug. “Nothing obvious.”
Bucky adds, “We weren’t there long enough to explore.”
Tony looks disappointed again. “You’re terrible at multiverse tourism.”
Natasha asks another question. “How long were you in the second universe?”
“About a day.”
“And the first?”
“Also about a day.”
Tony gestures dramatically. “So this machine basically just kidnaps you for 24 hours at a time.”
“Pretty much.”
You all reach the common room. Sam, Clint, Wanda, and Thor are lounging around.
Sam looks up. “Oh hey.”
Clint leans back in his chair. “Meeting over?”
Tony walks in and announces loudly, “Barnes and y/n are from another universe.”
Sam blinks. “…What?”
Clint laughs immediately. “Sure.”
Wanda smiles slightly.
Thor looks intrigued. “A different realm?”
Tony points at him. “Exactly!”
Sam shakes his head. “Y’all messing with us.”
Steve walks in behind you. “They’re not.”
Now everyone sits up. Clint squints.
“Wait…You’re serious?”
You sigh. “Yes.”
Sam leans forward. “Hold up. Start from the beginning.”
Bucky groans. “Oh no.”
Tony claps his hands. “Yes. Story time.”
You rub your forehead. “Okay.”
You explain the warehouse again. The machine. The mission. The accidental jump.
Sam’s eyes get wider as you talk. Clint just keeps blinking. Thor looks fascinated.
Wanda asks softly, “So every time you jump…you wake up in your other selves?”
You nod. “Basically.”
Sam points. “Wait. So in those universes…you’re still you?”
“Yeah.”
Clint grins. “So you could walk in and just live your life?”
“In theory.”
Tony leans forward again. “Okay but important question.” He points at Bucky. “Am I richer in the other universes?”
You snort. “Yes.”
“Excellent.”
Sam shakes his head. “This is crazy.”
Clint suddenly asks, “So what were the other universes like?”
“Pretty normal.”
“Were we all there?”
“Yeah.”
“Did we look the same?”
“Yes.”
Clint looks disappointed. “Man. I wanted to have a beard.”
Thor raises a hand. “In these other realms, was I still the God of Thunder?”
“Yes.”
He nods proudly. “Good.”
Natasha, who has been watching quietly, suddenly asks, “So.”
Everyone looks at her. She points between you and Bucky.
“Were you two dating in any of the other universes?”
You and Bucky freeze. Then both slowly look at each other.
Everyone notices.
Clint immediately bursts out laughing. “Oh my god.”
Sam points. “That’s a yes.”
Tony grins. “Which universe?”
You sigh. “…The first one.”
Clint slaps the arm of the couch. “I knew it.”
Sam laughs. “Barnes!”
Bucky groans. “Relax.”
Natasha smirks. “How long?”
“Apparently a while.”
The room erupts.
Sam stands up. “NO WAY.”
Clint is laughing so hard he nearly falls over.
Thor looks delighted. “A warrior pairing!”
Tony claps. “This is the best day ever.”
Bucky rubs his face. “Oh my God.”
Sam grins. “So you two were just casually dating in another universe?”
You cross your arms. “Not casually.”
Clint raises his eyebrows. “Serious?”
You shrug. “Look we didn’t exactly have time to analyze the relationship.”
Tony grins at Bucky. “So how was it?”
Bucky stares at him. “I’m not answering that.”
Wanda laughs softly.
Natasha leans back in her chair. “Well. Now I’m curious.”
You shake your head. “This conversation is over.”
Sam grins. “Too late.”
Clint points between you both. “Multiverse proof.”
Tony adds, “You guys are inevitable.”
Bucky sighs loudly. “Please stop.”
You glance at him. Then both of you look around the room at everyone still firing questions.
Clint asks, “Did you kiss?”
Sam says, “Did we know about it?”
Tony asks, “Did other me approve?”
You and Bucky look at each other again.
“Hopefully we don’t go to too many more universes,” you say. “Because explaining this is getting old.”
Bucky nods in agreement.
Sam laughs. “Too bad.”
Clint grins. “You’re gonna have to keep telling it.”
--
Later that evening the team gathers again in the main briefing room. This time it’s everyone.
Sam is leaning against the wall. Clint is spinning a pen between his fingers. Thor looks excited like this is the greatest adventure of his life. Tony has already pulled up the warehouse satellite images again.
You and Bucky stand near the back of the room. You feel…weird. Still tired. Still a little off. But mostly anxious.
Fury stands at the front. “We move tonight.”
Steve nods. “Same approach as before.”
Tony lifts his hand. “And then I get to poke around in the alien multiverse machine.”
Clint grins. “You’ve been waiting all day to say that.”
Tony points at him. “Correct.”
Steve gestures to the map. “We clear the building first. Tony and a few of us go in the machine room. Everyone else secures the perimeter.”
Natasha nods. “Simple.”
You glance at Bucky. He looks back at you. Neither of you say anything. But you’re both thinking the same thing. Please let this work.
Fury nods once. “Suit up.”
A little while later you’re in your room pulling on the last piece of your gear when there’s a knock. You already know who it is.
“Come in.”
Bucky pushes the door open. He’s already suited up. He leans against the doorframe.
“You ready?”
You shrug. “As ready as I can be.”
He walks inside. “You okay?”
You hesitate. “…I think so.”
You sit down on the edge of your bed to tighten your boots. “Tony sounded pretty confident earlier.”
Bucky snorts. “Tony always sounds confident.”
“That’s fair.” You sigh. “I just really hope he can figure something out. “Like…a way to send us straight home.” You look up at him. “Skip all the other universes.”
Bucky nods slowly. “Yeah.”
You stand up. “Because honestly…” You run a hand through your hair. “I don’t know how many more of these jumps I can take.”
Bucky watches you carefully. “We’ll figure it out.”
You nod. “Yeah.”
But you don’t sound convinced. He notices. He always notices.
He pushes off the wall. “Come on. The jet’s waiting.”
--
The quinjet lands in the clearing about a mile from the warehouse. You’ve done this walk enough now that it feels routine. The warehouse comes into view through the trees. It’s quiet. No lights. No movement.
Sam scans the building. “Looks empty.”
Steve nods. “Let’s go.”
You all move inside. The building is silent. No scientists. No guards. Just humming equipment.
The team spreads out. Clint and Thor take the far hallway. Wanda stays near the entrance.
Natasha gestures toward the machine room. “Let’s go.”
You and Bucky lead the way. When you push the door open, the machine sits exactly where you remember it. Circular platform. Cables. Computers lining the walls.
Tony immediately lights up. “Oh. Oh this is beautiful.” He walks straight toward the computers like a kid in a candy store. “Look at this tech.”
Sam crosses his arms. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
Tony starts typing. “Oh absolutely.”
Steve, Nat, Sam, you, and Bucky all stay inside the room while the rest of the team watches the perimeter.
Tony starts pulling up data. “Hmmm.” He opens another screen. “Oh wow.”
You glance at Bucky. “He’s having the time of his life.”
Bucky nods.
Tony keeps talking while he works. “Okay so this is definitely multiverse energy.”
“No surprise there.”
He opens another program. “But whoever built this…” He whistles softly. “They were very, very smart.”
Sam leans against the wall. “Can you figure out where it sends them?”
Tony keeps typing. “I’m trying.”
He pulls up more screens.
You watch anxiously. Minutes pass.
Tony frowns slightly. “…Huh.”
Steve looks at him. “What?”
Tony taps the screen. “I can’t find any destination mapping.”
“What does that mean?” you ask.
“It means…” He pulls up another system. “…I have no idea how many universes this thing connects to.”
Your stomach drops.
Tony keeps talking. “It might not even be a fixed network.”
Bucky frowns. “What?”
Tony sighs. “It might just randomly drop you somewhere.”
The words hit you like a punch. “Randomly?”
Tony keeps digging. “Maybe.” He pulls up another screen. “Or maybe there’s some kind of sequence. Or–” He stops. “…Yeah I don’t know.”
Your chest tightens.
Tony rubs his neck. “A lot of this tech is…really advanced.” He gestures to the machines. “I’d need more time to understand it.”
“How much time?” Steve asks.
Tony hesitates. “…A lot.”
Your heart starts racing. “So you can’t fix it?”
Tony sighs. “Not tonight.”
Your breathing speeds up. “So we’re just…” You look at Bucky. “…stuck?”
Tony shakes his head. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you don’t know how to get us home.”
He doesn’t answer. Your chest tightens more. Your thoughts spiral.
What if we never get back.
What if we keep jumping forever.
What if something happens to everyone in our universe and we’re not there.
Your voice cracks slightly. “Bucky…”
He immediately turns toward you. “What?”
“What if we never get back.” The words tumble out. “What if we just keep jumping forever. What if something’s happening in our universe right now and we’re not there. What if–”
“Hey.” Bucky grabs your arm gently. “Hey.”
You’re breathing too fast. “I don’t know what’s happening there. I don’t know if everyone’s okay.”
“Hey.” He pulls you a little closer. “Look at me.”
You do.
His voice softens. “We’re going to get back.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes I do.”
“How?”
“Because we’re not giving up.”
Your voice shakes. “What if we can’t figure it out.”
“Then we keep trying.”
“What if it takes years.”
“Then it takes years.”
You shake your head. “You don’t understand–”
“I do.”
He squeezes your arm slightly. “You’re scared.”
You swallow. “Yeah.”
“I am too.”
That surprises you.
But he keeps talking. “But we’re going to figure it out. We always do.”
You take a shaky breath. Slowly your breathing steadies.
Tony watches quietly. Then sighs. “I’m sorry. I really thought I could crack it.”
You shake your head. “It’s okay.”
He gestures to the machine. “I’d need time. Lab equipment. Probably Bruce.”
You laugh weakly. “Yeah.”
Then Tony brightens slightly. “Well. If you’re jumping again…” He points at the machine. You better bring me with you every time you come back here.”
You stare at him. “What?”
“I want to play with this thing in every universe.”
You roll your eyes. “Of course you do.”
You walk over to the control panel. Your hands hover over the switches. You glance at Bucky.
He nods once. “Ready?”
You take a deep breath. “Ready.”
You turn back to the team. “Bye everyone.”
Clint waves. “Try not to land in space.”
You flip the switches. The machine hums to life. Energy ripples through the platform. You step onto it. Bucky steps beside you.
You glance at him one last time. Then the room tilts. Your vision spins.
Summary: During a mission, you and Bucky accidentally trigger a machine that sends you to a different universe. As you travel the multiverse together, you have to find each other in every universe. But will you ever make it back to your original universe?
Word Count: 6,582
You gasp.
Your whole body jerks as your eyes snap open. For a second you can’t breathe. Your heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might burst out of your chest. You blink rapidly. Your brain struggles to catch up.
You’re sitting down. You look down and your laptop is open in front of you on the table, your hands resting on the keyboard. You blink again, trying to focus. Papers are spread out across the table. Files. Printed reports.
Your kitchen table. Your apartment. Your old apartment.
The realization slams into you so fast it makes your stomach drop. Your chest tightens.
No. No no no. This isn’t right.
You push the laptop closed so fast it almost falls off the table. Your chair scrapes loudly across the floor as you stand up.
Your breathing speeds up. Your eyes scan the room. Everything is exactly how it used to be. The small kitchen. The narrow hallway. The living room couch. The same scuff mark on the wall from when you moved in years ago.
Your brain starts racing. They didn’t send you home. The machine worked. But it didn’t send you back to your universe. It sent you somewhere else. Again.
A sharp wave of anxiety crawls up your spine. How many universes is this going to take? How long is it going to take to get back? Your thoughts slam into a much worse one.
Bucky.
Your head snaps toward the table. Your phone. You need your phone. You start patting the table frantically. Papers. Files. Folders. No phone.
Your heart rate spikes again. Your eyes land on the hallway. It must be in your bedroom. You rush down the hall and push the door open. The room looks exactly the same.
Your spot your phone plugged in on the nightstand. You grab it immediately and unplug the charger. Your hands are shaking slightly as you unlock it.
You open your contacts quickly and scroll down to the B’s. Your finger slows, but his name isn’t there. You scroll farther, but still find nothing.
Your stomach twists.
Maybe it’s saved under something else. You scroll again. And again. Your eyes dart across the screen. Name after name. But not his.
Your breathing grows uneven. You scroll faster. Maybe you saved it under something stupid.
Your finger stops. A horrible realization crashes into your brain. Your apartment. Your old apartment. His number isn’t in your phone.
You haven’t met him yet.
You must still be a SHIELD agent. You haven’t been called up to the Avengers. Your chest tightens painfully.
“No.”
The word slips out of your mouth before you can stop it.
You shake your head quickly, scrolling again even though you know it won’t change anything.
“No.”
Your voice comes out louder this time. You keep shaking your head.
“No no no.”
Your heart is racing. You have no way to reach him. No phone number. No contact. Nothing.
Panic begins creeping in. You press your hands against the edge of the nightstand and force yourself to breathe.
Think. There has to be a way to find him.
Then it hits you. The compound. He lives at the compound. At least he should.
Your brain grabs onto the idea immediately. He’ll be looking for you too. He has to be.
You shove your phone into your pocket and run back into the kitchen, grabbing your bag and keys off the hook by the door. You slip your shoes on quickly and your hand is already on the door handle.
You rush down the stairs and out into the parking lot. Your car is exactly where you always parked it when you lived here before. At least that hasn’t changed.
You climb in and start the engine. Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly. You have no idea if they’ll even let you through the gates. No idea if the Avengers will even be there.
But if Bucky is in this universe, he’ll be looking for you.
--
Bucky gasps.
His body jerks upright like he’s been shocked.
For a split second everything feels wrong – his lungs burning, his heart racing, his head spinning from the sudden shift.
Then he freezes. He’s sitting on the couch. A movie is playing. Light from the TV flickers across the room. Slowly, he looks around.
The common room. Everyone is sitting around the room. Every single one of them is staring at him, looking confused and concerned.
Steve leans forward slightly in his chair. “You okay?”
Bucky blinks. He forces his breathing to slow. Right. Another universe. His eyes move quickly around the room. You aren’t there. His stomach tightens.
“…Uhh,” he says. Everyone is still staring. “Yeah,” he adds quickly. “I just…forgot to do something.”
Sam raises an eyebrow. “Okay…”
But Bucky is already standing. The room stays quiet as he walks toward the hallway. He can feel their confused stares on his back as he leaves. The second he’s out of sight he moves faster, straight down the hall to your room.
The door is closed so he knocks.
He waits. Nothing.
He knocks again. Still nothing.
A knot forms in his stomach. Slowly, he opens the door. The room is dark. For a moment he just stands there, letting his eyes adjust.
“Y/n?” he says quietly. No answer.
He reaches for the light switch and flips it on. It’s empty. His brow furrows. The bed isn’t made, it’s just the mattress, and there’s nothing on the desk or anywhere else in the room.
His brain immediately searches for another explanation. Maybe you’re dating in this universe too? Maybe you moved into his room?
He turns and heads down the hallway again. He opens his door, and the room inside looks exactly like it always does. He checks the closet, but it’s just his clothes. Then the bathroom, but it’s just his stuff.
He stands there for a second. Then the realization hits – you’re not an Avenger in this universe.
His stomach drops. Panic starts creeping in. He runs a hand through his hair and begins pacing.
Think. There has to be a way to find you. Then he remembers. Before the Avengers, you were a SHIELD agent. And if that’s still true here, Steve would have access to your file.
Bucky heads straight for Steve’s office. He closes the door behind him and sits at the desk. The computer hums quietly as he turns it on.
His fingers hover over the keyboard for a second. Steve uses one password for everything in his universe. He types it in. The screen unlocks.
Relief hits him immediately.
It takes a few minutes to find the SHIELD database. Then another password prompt appears. He tries the same one. It works again.
He scrolls through the list of agents. Hundreds of names flash past. Then finally, he sees your name.
He clicks it, and your file opens. Your photo fills the corner of the screen. Bucky stares at it for a second longer than he should.
Your smile. The same one he’s seen a thousand times. It’s warm and bright and makes his chest tighten in a way he can’t explain.
He shakes his head quickly and focuses. Phone number. Address. He grabs a pen and paper from Steve’s desk and writes both down quickly. Then he logs out of everything and shuts the computer down.
A few minutes later he’s back in his room. He pulls his phone out. For a moment he considers driving to your apartment. But then he pauses.
You’ll probably be looking for him. Which means you’ll probably come to the compound.
So instead, he types your number into his phone and presses call.
--
You’re halfway to the compound when your phone rings through your car speakers. “Unknown number” lights up on the screen.
Your heart jumps. You grab the wheel tighter. Please be Bucky. You hit the answer button. “Hello?”
A familiar voice comes through the speakers. “Hey.”
Relief crashes over you so hard you almost laugh. “Bucky.”
“Yeah.”
You shake your head slightly, smiling in disbelief. “Oh my God, I’m so glad that’s you.”
“Me too.”
“I was trying to figure out how to find you,” you say.
“Same here.”
“I’m driving to the compound right now.”
“Good,” he says immediately. “I’ll get the gate opened for you.”
You nod instinctively even though he can’t see you. “Okay.”
For a moment neither of you say anything. Just hearing his voice calms the panic that had been building in your chest.
“So,” he says finally, “where’d you wake up?”
“My apartment.”
“Your old one?”
“Yeah. I was sitting at the kitchen table with a report open like I’d been working.”
“That makes sense.”
“I tried to call you but your number wasn’t in my phone.”
“Yeah,” he says. “I didn’t find you in my contacts either.”
“So how’d you get my number?” you ask.
“Well, I may or may not have logged onto Steve’s computer and found your SHIELD file.”
You bust out laughing. “You stole SHIELD intel?”
“Borrowed. For a good cause.”
You just laugh again. “So what were you doing when you got here?”
“I woke up in the common room. With everyone there. We were watching a movie.”
You laugh slightly. “That must’ve been awkward.”
“You have no idea.”
You slow slightly as you approach the road that leads toward the compound. “So why do you think we ended up in another universe instead of our own?”
You hear him exhale quietly. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe the machine isn’t precise.”
“Maybe.”
“Or maybe,” you say slowly, “our universe wasn’t the closest one.”
“That’s…not comforting.”
You glance at the compound gates coming into view. “Well.” You take a breath. “At least we found each other.”
“Yeah,” he says, his voice softening slightly.
You pull up to the gate. “I’m pulling up now.”
“Alright,” he says. “I’ll let you in.”
“Okay, see you soon.”
--
Bucky hangs up the phone and exhales slowly. At least you’re here. That part worked. He grabs his tablet off the desk and taps the screen awake.
“JARVIS,” he says.
“Yes, Mr. Barnes?”
“Open the front gate.”
There’s a short pause. “I’m afraid I cannot do that.”
Bucky blinks. “…What?”
“You do not have clearance to open the front gate.”
He stares at the tablet. “You’re kidding.”
“I do not joke, Mr. Barnes.”
Bucky groans and drags a hand down his face. “Okay. Does Steve have clearance?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Let him open it.”
“Mr. Rogers only has clearance to open the gate for guests he is expecting.”
Bucky pauses. “…Right.”
Another pause. Then JARVIS asks politely, “Is Mr. Rogers expecting this guest?”
Bucky sighs heavily. “No.”
“Then the only person authorized to open the gate for an unexpected guest is Mr. Stark.”
Bucky drops his head. “Of course it is.”
He tosses the tablet onto the desk. Fantastic. Just fantastic. He really does not want to walk into the common room and ask Tony to open the gate. Because that will lead to questions.
A lot of questions. And assumptions. Very loud assumptions.
But then another thought hits him. You’re probably already at the gate.
And if Tony already knows someone’s there, he might do something stupid. Aka, he’ll definitely do something stupid.
Bucky groans again and pushes himself out of the chair. “Great.”
When he walks into the common room, everyone is still there. Tony is sitting on the couch with a tablet in his hands.
Perfect.
Bucky stops near the entrance. “Uhh, Stark?”
Tony doesn’t even look up. “What.” Bucky hesitates for a second, then sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “Can you open the gate?”
The entire room goes silent.
Tony’s head snaps up. Sam gasps loudly. Clint immediately bursts out laughing. Thor looks confused. Nat’s eyebrows shoot up.
Tony slowly lowers the tablet. “They’re here for you?”
Sam sits forward. “WHO IS IT?”
Clint points at Bucky. “Barnes has visitors!”
Steve raises an eyebrow.
Tony grins slowly. “Oh this is good.”
Bucky groans. “Can you just open it?”
Tony leans back. “Who is it?”
“No one.”
Sam immediately laughs. “Oh that’s suspicious.”
Clint nods. “Super suspicious.”
Tony tilts his head. “Barnes.”
“What.”
“People usually have names.”
Bucky crosses his arms. “Just open the gate.”
Tony smirks. “No.”
Bucky stares at him. “…What.”
“I’ll open it,” Tony says, “if you tell us who it is.”
Bucky sighs. “No.”
Sam grins. “It’s a secret girlfriend.”
“It is not.”
Clint raises a hand. “Secret wife.”
Thor gasps dramatically. “Secret queen!”
Bucky drags a hand down his face. “Oh my God.”
Tony points at him. “I’m only opening the gate if you promise not to be loud.”
Bucky blinks. “…What?”
“You heard me.”
“We’re not–”
Tony waggles his eyebrows. “Compound rules.”
Sam starts laughing so hard he nearly falls off the couch.
Clint claps his hands. “Oh this is incredible.”
Bucky gestures wildly. “No! That’s not–”
Tony interrupts. “Barnes.”
“What.”
“Promise.”
Bucky groans. “We’re not doing anything!”
Sam yells from the couch, “THEN WHO IS IT?”
Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. Everyone is staring at him. Waiting. He exhales slowly. “I promise she’s not–”
The room explodes.
Sam slaps the couch. “SHE?”
Clint stands up. “Barnes has a girl!”
Thor beams. “This is wonderful!”
Wanda laughs quietly.
Tony points dramatically. “You said SHE.”
Bucky groans. “Oh my God.”
Sam leans forward. “Who is she?”
Clint adds, “Is she cute?”
Tony taps the tablet. “Opening the gate now.”
“Thank you,” Bucky mutters.
Sam jumps up. “We’re coming with you.”
“No you’re not.”
Clint follows. “I want to meet her.”
“No.”
Tony grins. “Oh we’re definitely meeting her.”
Bucky rolls his eyes so hard it physically hurts. “You’re all unbelievable.”
He turns and heads for the elevator. Behind him the teasing immediately starts again.
Sam calls out, “Barnes is bringing home a GIRL!”
Clint shouts, “THIS IS HISTORIC!”
Thor yells, “We must celebrate!”
Bucky presses the elevator button. “Kill me.”
The elevator doors open and he steps inside. As the doors close he can still hear Sam yelling down the hallway–
“ASK HER IF SHE HAS FRIENDS!”
--
You pull up to the compound gate and stop the car. The headlights illuminate the tall metal bars and the security camera mounted on one of the posts.
You put the car in park and wait. And wait. Your fingers tap lightly against the steering wheel. The gate doesn’t move. You glance up at the camera. Maybe they’re verifying something.
Another minute passes. You lean back in the seat. You briefly consider pressing the call button next to the keypad. But the thought immediately makes you cringe. Because if you press that button, everyone will know you’re here. And the last thing you want is to be announced to the entire Avengers compound like some random visitor.
You sigh and keep waiting. Another minute passes. Then finally, the gate starts to slide open. You let out a quiet breath of relief and slowly pull forward. As the car rolls through the gate, a voice suddenly crackles through the speaker mounted nearby.
“Welcome, Barnes’ mystery girl. Come on in.”
You roll your eyes immediately. Of course. Tony. You don’t say anything back, but a small smile creeps onto your face anyway. Because you know exactly what probably happened.
Bucky had to ask Tony to open the gate. Which means everyone was probably there. Which means he was almost definitely interrogated. And teased. Relentlessly.
You pull into one of the parking spots outside and turn the engine off. Just as you open the door and step out, the side door to the garage swings open. Bucky steps out and spots you immediately.
You lift a hand and wave. He waves back.
You grab your bag from the passenger seat and walk toward him. By the time you reach him, he’s already shaking his head slightly.
You grin. “So,” you say, “how’d everyone react to you having a girl over?”
He groans immediately. “Did Tony say something?”
“Yeah.” You try to keep a straight face. “He said, ‘Welcome Barnes’ mystery girl, come on in.’”
Bucky rolls his eyes. “Of course he did.”
You laugh quietly. “You had to ask him to open the gate, didn’t you?”
“JARVIS wouldn’t let me.”
“Because you don’t have clearance?”
“Exactly.”
You smile. “Which means everyone was there.”
He rubs a hand down his face. “You have no idea.”
“I can imagine.”
He gestures toward the building. “Let’s go.”
You follow him toward the side door. “It’s so weird,” you say as you walk. “They don’t know me in this universe.”
He nods slightly. “Yeah.”
“I know them,” you continue. “But they don’t know me.”
“That’s…strange.”
You glance at him. “It’s weird that you wouldn’t know me either.”
He glances back at you briefly. “…Yeah.” There’s a small pause. “That is weird.”
You both step into the hallway and immediately head for the back elevator – the one that doesn’t open directly into the common room. Because neither of you are in the mood to explain anything tonight.
The elevator doors close and you lean back against the wall. “…Today has been insane.”
“Agreed.”
The elevator dings softly when it reaches the floor. You step out and follow him down the hallway to his room. He opens the door and lets you step inside first.
The second the door closes behind you, you drop your bag onto the floor and walk straight to the bed. Then flop onto it face-first.
“Okay,” you mumble into the pillow.
Bucky snorts quietly.
You roll onto your back. “I don’t know if it’s the jumping universes,” you say, “or if I just don’t get enough sleep in this universe.” You stare at the ceiling. “But I am exhausted.”
Bucky leans against the dresser. “I think it’s the universe jumping.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m tired too.”
You glance at him. “You don’t usually get tired.”
“Exactly.”
You sigh. “Maybe we just deal with this tomorrow.”
He nods. “Yeah. It’s already late.”
You’re honestly so tired you feel like you might fall asleep right there. But another thought hits you. You force yourself to sit up.
“Wait.”
“What?”
You rub your eyes. “Is there even a bed in my room in this universe?”
“Yeah,” he says, “but it’s just the mattress. There’s no sheets on it.”
You groan. “Great.”
He shrugs. “You can stay here.”
You blink. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He gestures toward the floor. “I’ll take the floor.”
You immediately shake your head. “No. You take the bed.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not sleeping on the floor in your own room.”
He waves a hand dismissively. “I’m used to sleeping on the floor.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
You sigh. “…Okay.”
Then you point at him. “But if you change your mind, you can kick me out.”
He chuckles quietly. “Deal.”
He grabs some clothes from the dresser. “I’m gonna shower real quick.”
You nod. “Okay.”
You stand up long enough to kick your shoes off. Then you crawl under the covers. Bucky switches off the lights before heading into the bathroom.
The room goes dark. The sound of the shower starts a minute later. You close your eyes. Your body sinks into the mattress. You’re almost asleep by the time the shower shuts off. A few minutes later the bathroom door opens.
You hear quiet footsteps, then fabric rustling, then the soft sound of a pillow being set on the floor.
Your eyes open slightly. “Are you sure you want to sleep on the floor?” you mumble.
Bucky glances over from where he’s setting up a blanket. “Yeah.”
You nod sleepily. “Okay.”
You shift slightly under the covers. “If you change your mind,” you mumble, “the bed’s big enough.”
He smiles faintly. “Okay.”
You’re already drifting off again.
“Good night,” he says quietly.
“Night,” you mumble.
You hear him settle onto the floor. The room goes quiet. And not long after that, you fall asleep.
--
Bucky wakes slowly. At first, he doesn’t move. His eyes stay closed as his brain tries to figure out where he is. The floor is cold under his shoulder. Something stiff pulls across his back when he shifts. He frowns slightly.
Then everything from yesterday hits him all at once.
The warehouse. The machine. The jump. Another universe. You.
His eyes open and he stares up at the ceiling for a moment. Then he pushes himself up slowly, wincing a little as his back protests. Sleeping on the floor might be something he’s used to, but it’s been a while, and it’s definitely not comfortable.
He rolls his shoulders, stretching. The room is still dim. He glances up at the bed, and you’re still asleep. Half under the covers, hair slightly messy, breathing slow and even.
He watches for a second. Then quietly stands up. No point in waking you. He slips out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.
He doesn’t bother changing clothes, just heads downstairs. The compound is quiet. The kitchen lights are already on, and Steve is sitting at the table with a mug of coffee.
Of course he is.
Steve looks up when Bucky walks in. One eyebrow lifts slightly.
Bucky grabs a mug. “Morning.”
Steve smirks faintly. “Morning.”
Bucky pours coffee and leans against the counter. Steve watches him over the rim of his mug.
“Sleep well?”
There’s a very obvious tone in Steve’s voice. Bucky rolls his eyes immediately. “Here we go.”
Steve chuckles quietly. “What?”
“You know what.”
“I’m just asking how your night was.”
“Sure you are.”
Steve sets his mug down. “So.”
Bucky takes a sip of coffee. “So.”
Steve tilts his head. “Who was your visitor?”
Bucky sighs. “It’s not what you think.”
Steve smiles. “That’s exactly what someone says when it is.”
Bucky points at him. “No.”
Steve leans back slightly. “Buck.”
“What.”
“You brought a girl to the compound.”
“I did not bring a girl to the compound.”
Steve gestures vaguely. “Someone came through the gate.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
Steve raises an eyebrow. “You asked Tony to open the gate.”
Bucky groans. “That was a mistake.”
Steve grins. “Oh, I’m sure.”
Bucky shakes his head and takes another sip of coffee. Steve watches him for a second.
“So who is she?”
“No one.”
Steve laughs quietly. “Buck.”
“What.”
“You’re terrible at lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
Steve studies him. “Then tell me.”
Bucky rubs the back of his neck. “I can’t.”
Steve leans forward slightly. “Why not?”
Bucky hesitates. “Because I should probably wait until she’s up before explaining everything.”
Steve blinks. “…Wait.”
Bucky freezes. Steve slowly raises his eyebrows.
“She’s still here?”
Bucky immediately regrets that sentence. “That’s not what I meant.”
Steve grins. “Oh my God.”
Bucky groans. “Steve.”
“You let her stay the night?”
“It’s not like that.”
Steve laughs. “It is absolutely like that.”
“No.”
“Buck.”
“What.”
“You snuck a girl into the compound and she stayed the night.”
Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. “I did not sneak her in.”
“You literally had Stark open the gate.”
“That’s not sneaking!”
Steve is trying very hard not to laugh now. “So where is she?”
“Sleeping.”
Steve’s grin widens. “In your room?”
“Yes – but not like that.”
Steve raises both hands. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
Steve chuckles. “Well.”
Bucky sighs. “Nothing happened.”
“Sure.”
“I slept on the floor.”
Steve pauses. “…You slept on the floor?”
“Yes.”
Steve stares at him. “Why?”
“Because she took the bed.”
Steve leans back slowly. “You gave up your bed.”
Bucky shrugs. “Yeah.”
Steve shakes his head. “Wow.”
“What.”
“You really like her.”
Bucky groans. “That’s not–”
Steve interrupts. “You don’t give up your bed for just anyone.”
“It was the polite thing to do.”
Steve smirks. “Uh huh.”
Bucky takes another sip of coffee. Steve studies him again.
“So,” Steve says casually. “Does she know she’s meeting the Avengers this morning?”
Bucky almost chokes on his coffee. “She is not meeting the Avengers.”
“Oh she absolutely is.”
“No.”
Steve takes another sip of coffee.
“I’m just saying.”
“Don’t.”
“It’s been a long time since you brought someone home.”
“I did not bring someone home.”
Steve shrugs. “You kind of did.”
Bucky sighs heavily. “This is going to be a long day.”
--
You wake up slowly.
At first you just lie there with your eyes closed, your brain still heavy with sleep. Then little pieces of yesterday start drifting back.
Your apartment. Driving to the compound. The phone call. Tony announcing you over the gate speaker. Bucky sneaking you in.
Your eyes open. You stare at the ceiling for a second. You shift slightly under the covers. You actually slept pretty well. Better than you expected. But you still feel tired. Your body feels heavy, like it hasn’t quite caught up after the universe jumping.
You turn your head toward the floor where Bucky was sleeping, but he’s gone. The pillow and blanket are still there, though, slightly rumpled.
You stare at the empty spot for a second, then roll onto your back again. You stay like that for another couple minutes because the bed is warm, you’re tired, and you really don’t feel like starting another day of figuring out how to get back to your universe.
Eventually you sigh and push yourself upright. You swing your legs off the bed and stand up. The bathroom mirror greets you with a slightly disheveled version of yourself. Your hair is a mess. You run your fingers through it, trying to smooth it out. Then, you splash cold water on your face. It helps a little. You stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment.
You definitely need coffee.
You step back into the room. You’re still wearing the t-shirt you slept in. You glance toward your bag on the floor, realising you didn’t bring anything else because you didn’t exactly plan for staying here. You hug your arms around yourself slightly. The compound is always cold.
You look toward Bucky’s closet.
You hesitate. Then you walk over and pull the closet open slightly.
Sweatshirts. A lot of them. You grab one that looks older and hopefully not one he wears often and you pull it over your head. It’s way too big, but warm.
Without really thinking about it, you grab your phone and head for the door.
You need coffee. You walk down the hallway, still half-asleep and still running on instinct.
You step into the kitchen – and everything stops.
Dead silent.
You blink.
For a split second you’re confused. Then it hits you.
Oh.
Oh no.
Everyone is here. All staring at you. Your brain catches up with what you just did. You came down here on instinct like you always do.
Except–
In this universe, they don’t know you. You’re just the girl Bucky brought over.
You slowly look toward Bucky. He’s standing at the counter with a coffee mug. At first he doesn’t react because it’s normal for him to see you in the kitchen.
But now everyone is silent. And he’s realized it too. His eyes widen slightly. You stand there awkwardly near the doorway. No one says anything.
Then Tony leans forward slightly. “Ohhhh.”
You close your eyes briefly.
Tony grins. “So this is Barnes’ mystery girl.”
Sam bursts out laughing. “I KNEW IT.”
Clint slaps the table. “She came down for breakfast!”
Thor beams. “Welcome!”
Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Well this is interesting.”
You feel your face getting warm.
Tony gestures dramatically. “What’s your name?”
Clint jumps in immediately. “How long have you two been dating?”
Sam adds, “Where did you meet?”
Tony points between you and Bucky. “How long has this been going on?”
You open your mouth. Then close it again. Bucky finally moves. He walks over toward you. “Do you want coffee?” he asks quietly.
You nod immediately. “Yes.”
He nods. “Okay.”
He turns back to the counter. The room immediately fills with voices again.
Sam leans forward. “So what’s her name?”
Bucky sighs. “We’re not doing this.”
Clint laughs. “Oh we’re absolutely doing this.”
Tony grins. “You had a girl stay the night and thought we wouldn’t ask questions?”
Bucky grabs a mug. “Nothing happened.”
Sam snorts. “Sure.”
Clint points at you. “She’s wearing your sweatshirt.”
You freeze and look down. Right.
Bucky groans.
“It’s cold in here,” you say.
Tony smirks. “Barnes, you gave her your clothes.”
“I did not give her my clothes.”
“You’re making her coffee.”
“I make everyone coffee!”
Sam points at the mug. “Did she even ask for it?”
Bucky pauses. “…No.”
Clint claps his hands. “Domestic.”
You can’t help it – you laugh a little.
Bucky shoots you a look. “You’re not helping.”
You shrug. “Sorry.”
Tony leans on the counter. “So what’s your name?”
You glance at Bucky. Then back at them.
“…Uh–”
Bucky slides the coffee mug toward you. You take it and take a sip. It’s exactly how you like it. Again.
Sam notices immediately. “Oh my God.”
Bucky groans. “What.”
“You knew how she takes her coffee.”
Bucky rubs his face. “I guessed.”
Clint grins. “You didn’t guess. You’re dating”
Thor laughs loudly. “This is wonderful.”
Bucky throws his hands up. “We are not dating.”
Sam points at you. “She spent the night.”
Bucky gestures toward the floor. “I slept on the floor!”
Tony grins. “That’s even worse.”
Natasha tilts her head slightly. “So how long?”
Bucky sighs. “There is nothing going on.”
You and Bucky both lean against the counter now. You try very hard to ignore everyone, but it’s impossible. The questions keep coming.
“Where’d you meet?”
“Is she moving in?”
“Does she have friends?”
At one point Sam says, “You know what, Barnes? I’m proud of you.”
Bucky glares at him. “Stop.”
You sip your coffee trying not to laugh. Bucky glances at you. You glance back. Neither of you says anything.
The kitchen is still buzzing with questions and everyone talking at once. Sam is halfway standing over the table. Clint is pointing at Bucky like he just discovered something historic. Tony is leaning on the counter with that stupid grin he gets when he thinks something is hilarious.
Bucky finally exhales slowly. “Alright.”
The word comes out a little louder than the rest of the noise. The room quiets slightly. He rubs a hand down his face.
“I’ll explain.”
Tony grins. “Oh good.”
“But,” Bucky continues, pointing at everyone around the room, “you’re going to think it’s weird.”
Sam snorts. “That ship sailed yesterday.”
“And,” Bucky adds, “you have to trust me.”
Steve, who’s been quietly watching the whole thing unfold, nods once. “Okay.”
Natasha folds her arms. “I’m listening.”
Clint leans back in his chair. “This should be good.”
Bucky takes a breath. “This is gonna sound crazy,” he says.
You glance at him briefly. Then he says it.
“We’re not from this universe.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then Tony bursts out laughing. Sam immediately joins him. Clint slaps the table.
“Oh my god,” Tony points at Bucky. “You get caught red-handed with a girl in your room and your first instinct is to lie and jump straight to another universe?”
More laughter spreads around the room.
Sam wipes a tear from his eye. “That’s a bold strategy, Barnes.”
Clint grins. “Honestly I respect it.”
You and Bucky glance at each other. He looks mildly annoyed. You look mildly worried.
Bucky crosses his arms. “I’m serious.”
Tony waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah yeah.”
“No,” Bucky says flatly. “I’m serious.”
They’re still laughing. Sam shakes his head. “Come on man.”
Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Multiverse?”
Clint points between the two of you. “So in your universe you’re what, secretly married?”
Bucky groans. “Oh my God.”
You glance at him again. Neither of you look amused. The laughter slowly dies down as they realize you’re not joining in.
Tony studies both of you. “…Wait.”
Bucky gestures toward the living room. “You know last night during the movie?”
Steve nods. “When you gasped.”
“That wasn’t because I forgot something,” Bucky says. “That’s when I got to this universe.”
The room goes quiet. Not laughing now. Just confused.
Sam tilts his head. “…What?”
You set your coffee down on the counter. “In our universe,” you say slowly, “we’re both Avengers.”
Clint frowns. “You’re not an Avenger here.”
“Exactly,” you say. “In this universe I’m still a SHIELD agent.”
Steve’s expression sharpens slightly. “Okay…”
Bucky continues. “We were on a mission in our universe.”
“Warehouse sweep.”
“Abandoned building.”
Natasha nods slightly. “What kind of intel?”
“Multiverse related,” you say.
“And there was tech there too,” Bucky adds. “Some kind of machine.”
“We think they were experimenting with it,” you add. “And we accidentally triggered it.”
Tony’s grin is gone now. “…Triggered what?”
“The machine,” Bucky says. “And it sent us to another universe.”
Sam blinks. “…Another one?”
You nod. “We already went through one before this.”
Natasha looks thoughtful now. “And the warehouse?”
“It existed in the last universe,” you say. “So I’m assuming it exists in this one too. That’s how we triggered the machine again.”
Tony rubs his chin. “And that dropped you here.”
“Yeah,” Bucky says.
Sam points at him. “Then why did you leave the common room last night?”
Bucky exhales.
“Because she wasn’t there. I went looking for her”
Clint looks confused. “Then how’d you find her?”
Bucky gestures toward Steve. “I used Steve’s computer.”
Steve raises an eyebrow. “…You did?”
“You have access to SHIELD files in our universe,” Bucky says. “So I figured you would here too.”
Tony looks mildly impressed. “Resourceful.”
“I found her file,” Bucky continues. “Got her number.”
“That’s why I showed up.”
Sam leans back slowly. “…Hold on. You’re saying she just drove here from her apartment like this was normal?”
“Because we know each other in our universe,” you say.
The room is quiet again. They’re all looking between the two of you. Processing.
Steve nods slowly. “You were acting weird.”
Natasha tilts her head slightly. “And she knew her way to the kitchen this morning.”
You sigh. “Yeah.”
Tony studies both of you carefully. “…Okay.” Another pause. “I might actually believe this.”
Sam blinks. “…Seriously?”
Tony gestures toward you. “She walked into the kitchen like she lived here.”
He points at Bucky. “And he didn’t react at all.”
Clint nods slowly. “…That’s true.”
Steve looks thoughtful now. “So the warehouse is the key.”
“Yes,” Bucky says. “It has to be.”
Natasha leans against the counter. “And you’re trying to get back to your universe.”
“Exactly,” you say.
Sam shakes his head slowly. “This is the weirdest explanation I’ve ever heard.”
Tony points at him. “Have you met us?”
Clint raises a hand. “Fair.”
Steve looks between you and Bucky. “…Alright.”
Everyone turns toward him. He nods once.
“Then we help you get home.”
For a few seconds after everyone starts to believe you, the kitchen is quiet. Not awkward quiet, thinking quiet.
Then Steve straightens slightly. “We should go.”
Sam blinks. “Go where?”
“To the warehouse.”
Steve looks between you and Bucky. “If that machine is what’s sending you between universes, we need to get you there as soon as possible.”
Bucky nods immediately. “Yeah.”
You glance at him and nod too. “The sooner the better.”
Steve sets his mug down. “Training’s canceled.”
Sam throws both hands up. “Best news I’ve heard all week.”
Steve turns toward the hallway. “Everyone suit up.”
Clint stands up immediately. “Field trip.”
Tony grins. “Multiverse field trip.”
Natasha pushes off the counter. “Let’s move.”
Twenty minutes later everyone is in the hangar. Steve is standing near the jet with his phone to his ear.
“…Yes, sir,” he says.
You glance at Bucky. “Fury?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs.
Steve continues talking. “We found something related to multiverse tech.” A pause. “I’ll explain how we got the information when we get back.” Another pause. “Yes, sir.”
He hangs up and pockets the phone. “Alright,” he says. “Let’s go.”
You all get on the jet and you sit across from Bucky while the others spread out around the cabin.
Tony swivels slightly in his seat. “So,” he says, pointing at the two of you, “walk me through this universe hopping thing.”
You glance at Bucky. He shrugs slightly.
“It’s weird.”
“That’s not descriptive enough,” Tony says.
You lean back in your seat. “When it starts, everything kind of…tilts.”
Sam frowns. “Tilts?”
“Yeah,” you say. “Like your vision goes sideways for a second.”
Bucky nods. “Everything gets distorted.”
You gesture vaguely. “Then everything just goes black.”
“And when you wake up,” Bucky adds, “it’s like waking up from sleep.”
Tony leans forward slightly. “You physically wake up?”
“Yeah,” you say. “You jump a little and gasp.”
Clint nods. “That actually tracks.”
Tony taps his chin. “Any physical effects?”
“Not really,” Bucky says.
You shrug. “We’ve just been pretty tired.”
Natasha raises an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
Thor folds his arms. “This is fascinating.”
Sam shakes his head. “Y’all are just casually jumping universes.”
You shrug slightly. “Not exactly by choice.”
The jet hums steadily as it flies. An hour passes quickly.
Finally Steve speaks from the cockpit. “We’re close.”
The jet lands quietly in a clearing about a mile from the warehouse. Everyone steps out. You immediately recognize the treeline.
“That way,” you say.
The team moves quickly through the trees. As the warehouse comes into view, you slow slightly. Then you hear it.
Machines. A low hum. Clanking.
Tony tilts his head. “…That’s not abandoned.”
Bucky shakes his head. “Nope.”
Steve signals quietly. “Stay sharp.”
You move toward the entrance. Inside, the warehouse is full of equipment. Lights. Servers. Workstations. And people. Not a lot, but enough.
One of them notices movement.
“Hey–”
Sam takes him down before he finishes the sentence. Everything explodes into motion. Two more guards come running from another room. Clint drops one. Natasha sweeps the other’s legs out from under him. Thor moves like a truck through the middle of the room. Tony’s repulsors flare.
Within seconds the room is clear. You keep moving.
“Machine room is this way,” you say.
Bucky follows right beside you. The team spreads out behind you as you move through the warehouse. More people appear in some of the rooms, but the team handles them easily.
By the time you reach the hallway leading to the machine room, the building is quiet again. You push the door open. Inside, a few technicians are standing at the consoles.
They barely have time to react. Bucky takes one down. Natasha handles another. Sam grabs the last one and pulls him away from the controls.
The room goes quiet. The machine platform sits in the center of the floor. Inactive.
You and Bucky step toward the console.
“Same setup,” he mutters.
“Yeah.”
He reconnects one of the cables. The console flickers to life. Lights begin glowing along the circular platform.
Tony whistles. “Okay that’s cool.”
Steve gestures everyone back. “Give them space.”
Bucky looks at you. “Ready?”
You nod. “Ready.”
He flips a switch. The machine hums to life. Energy ripples through the platform. You both step onto it. The others back away.
Sam folds his arms. “Good luck.”
You glance at Bucky. He nods once.
Then–
Your vision tilts. The room bends sideways. Everything distorts.
And the world goes black.
--
Series Taglist: @thearchressstuff @moss-g0blin @imdoingathingmom @alyssinwunderland-blog-blog @ireadfanficwheninaslump @luckynibbiz @isabellebearvolume2 @intothesoul
Summary: During a mission, you and Bucky accidentally trigger a machine that sends you to a different universe. As you travel the multiverse together, you have to find each other in every universe. But will you ever make it back to your original universe?
Word Count: 9,127
Author's Note: Hey guys!! I know I've promised some fics that I haven't done yet, and I've also gotten some requests that I'll try to work on, but I had this idea and kinda ran away with it (aka I have senioritis and this fic is what I've been doing instead of school work), so I hope you enjoy! I'm making this a series and I hope it has the same vibes as Grumpy and the New Girl!! Also idk if you guys are fans of the whole multiverse thing or not, but hopefully you enjoy! Lmk what you think😊
The warehouse smells like dust, oil, and something faintly metallic. You step carefully over a coil of cables on the concrete floor, your flashlight cutting a narrow beam through the dim room. Most of the building had looked exactly like this – abandoned offices, empty storage areas, rusting equipment that hadn’t been touched in years. Except for the few rooms that clearly weren’t abandoned. Those had been…different. Too clean. Too organized. Too full of tech that absolutely did not belong in a run-down warehouse in the middle of nowhere. The entire team had been assigned to this mission, and Fury thought they were storing intel and possibly some tech related to the multiverse.
You lower the beam of your light as Bucky pushes open the next door.
“Clear,” he mutters automatically, stepping inside first.
You follow him, sweeping the corners out of habit. “Also empty,” you say after a second.
“Shocking.”
You snort softly. You and Bucky have been paired together most of the mission. It’s not unusual – Steve likes putting you two together because you’re both thorough. Also because, according to Sam, you’re both “stubborn enough to out-stubborn the other.” Which is not true…okay, maybe a little. But the two of you work well together. Even when you butt heads.
You step farther into the next room, your eyes adjusting. This one isn’t like the others.
“Uh…Bucky?” you say slowly.
He’s already noticed. The entire far wall is lined with equipment. Sleek metal consoles. Monitors. A circular platform built into the floor with glowing lines etched into it. You whistle quietly.
“Okay,” you say. “That definitely does not scream abandoned.”
Bucky moves closer, eyes scanning everything. “Looks recent,” he mutters.
You crouch beside a console, brushing dust off a panel. The screens are dark, but the machinery around them hums faintly. “Multiverse tech maybe?” you say.
Bucky huffs. “Great.”
You glance up at him. “What?”
“Because that always goes well.”
You grin. “Hey, last time we dealt with multiverse stuff you only almost got thrown into a different dimension once.”
“Still counts.”
You reach for a stack of folders beside the console. Most of the papers inside are diagrams – dense scientific schematics that make your brain hurt just looking at them. “Yeah, okay,” you mutter. “Definitely experiments.”
Bucky walks slowly around the circular platform. “There’s power running to it,” he says.
“Probably some kind of portal system.”
You flip through another folder. Nothing useful, just equations. “Great,” you sigh. “So we found the science nerd room but not the intel room.”
“Let’s keep looking.”
You nod, tossing the folder aside as you stand. But when you step backward, your boot catches one of the loose cables trailing from the console.
There’s a sharp click. Both of you freeze.
“Did you just–” Bucky starts.
The console lights up.
“–trigger something?” you finish weakly.
Every screen flickers to life. The circular platform glows brighter. “Oh no.”
The hum of the machines deepens into a low vibrating thrum. You spin toward the door.
“Steve–” you start, reaching for your comm.
But the words never finish. The air in the room suddenly warps. Your vision bends. The floor tilts sideways.
“What the–”
Your stomach lurches violently.
Then–
Everything goes black.
--
You wake up with a gasp. Your chest heaves as you bolt upright. Or try to. Something tight around your waist stops you. You freeze. Your brain struggles to catch up with reality. You’re in a bed. A warm bed. Soft blankets. Your heart is still racing when you realize something else. There’s an arm around you. A very familiar arm. Metal fingers curl loosely against your stomach.
Your head snaps sideways. Bucky is lying right next to you. His face is inches away. His hair is messy, his expression slack with sleep. He’s shirtless. Your eyes widen. Your brain short-circuits. You both stare at each other. Two seconds pass. Then three. Then both of you explode into motion. You scramble backward, nearly falling off the bed as he jerks upright at the same time.
“What the hell–”
“What is happening–”
“Why am I–”
“Why are we in bed–”
You both stop. You blink. “Wait,” you say.
He frowns. “What?”
You look around the room. Your stomach drops. “Oh my god.”
Bucky follows your gaze. His eyes widen too. “…This is my room.”
You stare at him. “I know.”
You both go quiet. Your heart is still racing as you drag a hand through your hair. You glance down at yourself. Sleep shorts. An oversized t-shirt. You freeze. You know this shirt. Your stomach flips. You’re about 99.9% sure it belongs to Bucky. You immediately decide not to acknowledge that. You get up and start pacing the room instead.
“Okay,” you say quickly. “Okay okay okay.”
Bucky swings his legs off the bed and stands. He’s only wearing boxers. You accidentally glance down. Your brain short circuits again. Nope. Eyes up. Focus.
“Why were we–” he starts. Then he stops. “Cuddling?”
Your face goes hot. “We were not cuddling,” you say.
“We definitely were.”
“We were unconscious!”
“Still counts.”
You point at him. “That does not count!”
Bucky runs a hand over his face. “Okay, forget the cuddling – why are we in my room?”
Your pacing speeds up. “Because,” you say slowly, thinking it through, “we triggered that machine.”
“The one in the warehouse?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And–”
Your brain finally catches up. Your steps stop. “…Oh shit.”
Bucky looks at you. “What.”
You point between the two of you. “I think we’re in another universe.”
Silence. He stares at you. “…No.”
“Yes.”
“There is absolutely no way.”
“Think about it!” You start pacing again. “That room had multiverse tech. We triggered it. Then we blacked out and woke up here.”
“Okay,” Bucky says slowly. “But why would we be in my room?”
You gesture around wildly. “Because we’re in the bodies of our other universe selves!”
He blinks. “…That sounds insane.”
You throw your hands up. “You have a metal arm and are from the 1940s and you’re telling me that sounds insane?”
He opens his mouth. Then closes it. “…Fair.”
You keep pacing. Your brain is running a mile a minute. “Okay,” you say. “Okay. If we’re in another universe…” You glance toward the bed. Your stomach drops again. “…Then that means.”
Bucky follows your gaze. Then he slowly looks back at you. “…Yeah.”
You both say it at the same time. “We’re dating.”
You stare at each other. “Oh god.”
“Oh no.”
You rub your face. “This is so weird.”
Bucky exhales hard. “We need to figure out how to get back,” you say.
“Yes.”
“Immediately.”
“Yes.”
You nod rapidly. Then, your eyes drift downward again. Bare chest. Muscle. Boxers. You snap your gaze back up.
“…Also you need to put pants on.”
Bucky stares at you. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“That’s your concern right now?”
“It’s distracting!”
He squints at you. “You’re an Avenger.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve fought aliens.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve jumped out of planes.”
“Yes.”
“And my legs are where you draw the line?”
Your face burns. “PUT. PANTS. ON.”
Bucky rolls his eyes but walks over to the dresser. You very deliberately stare at the wall while he pulls on sweatpants.
“…Happy?” he mutters.
“Yes.”
You glance over again. Your brain betrays you. Still distracting. You turn away immediately. “This is a nightmare.”
Bucky sighs. “Yeah.”
You lean against the wall, trying to think. “So we triggered the machine,” you say slowly. “Which means if we want to get back…”
“We probably need to find the machine in this universe.”
You nod. “Exactly.”
Bucky looks around the room. “Which means we might have to pretend to be…us.”
Your stomach flips again. “Oh my god.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What.”
“You realize everyone in this universe thinks we’re dating.”
“…Yeah.”
“And we just woke up screaming in your bedroom.”
“…Yeah.”
You both pause. Footsteps echo faintly in the hallway outside. You slowly turn toward the door.
Bucky groans. “…We’re screwed.”
Your eyes widen. “Bucky–”
There’s a knock on the door. Then Sam’s voice comes through. “Hey lovebirds,” he calls. “You two alive in there?”
You and Bucky stare at each other like deer caught in headlights.
“Say something!” you whisper.
“You say something!”
“It’s your room!”
Bucky groans quietly, then raises his voice. “Yeah, we’re fine!”
There’s a pause. You both freeze. Then Sam snorts on the other side of the door.
“Alright, just checking. Sounded like somebody got murdered in there.”
Bucky rubs his face. “Dropped something,” he calls back.
“Uh huh,” Sam says, clearly not believing that for a second. “Well try not to kill each other before breakfast.”
Footsteps start walking away down the hallway. You both wait. Then you collapse onto the edge of the bed. “Oh my god.”
Bucky exhales and drags a hand through his hair. “This is already a disaster.”
“We haven’t even left the room yet.”
“Exactly.”
You push yourself up again, pacing. “Okay, okay. Focus.”
Bucky leans back against the dresser, arms crossed. “You said the warehouse.”
You nod immediately. “Yes! We know where it is.”
“The one from the mission.”
“Exactly.”
“Which means the machine should be there in this universe too.”
“Hopefully.”
Bucky tilts his head slightly. “So we just go back there.”
You stop pacing. “…Right.”
He waits. You stare at him. “…How are we getting there?”
Bucky pauses. “…Quinjet.”
“Correct. Which we don’t currently have access to.”
He exhales slowly. “So we either explain this to the team–” he starts.
“Or steal a jet.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You went straight to stealing.”
“Weird multiverse emergency!”
“That’s not a real excuse.”
“It should be!”
Bucky pushes off the dresser, pacing now too. “If we try to explain it…”
“They might believe us.”
“Weirder things have happened,” he says.
“Exactly!”
“But,” he continues, “we also might sound insane.”
You rub your face. “Yeah.”
“And if they don’t believe us,” he adds, “they definitely won’t let us take a jet.”
You groan. “This is impossible.”
You’re both pacing now, circling the room like stressed animals.
“We could try to slip away after breakfast,” Bucky says.
“And just casually take a jet?”
“Yes.”
“From the Avengers compound.”
“Yes.”
You stare at him. “That sounds like the worst plan I’ve ever heard.”
“You suggested stealing it first.”
“That was hypothetical!”
Another knock interrupts you. You both freeze. “…We didn’t answer fast enough,” you whisper.
Bucky sighs and opens the door. Steve stands in the hallway. He smiles slightly. “Morning.”
“Morning,” Bucky says.
Steve glances past him briefly, then back. “You two coming down for breakfast?”
You step closer to the door. “Yeah, we will.”
“Training starts soon,” Steve adds. “Figured I’d check.”
Bucky nods. “We’ll be right there.”
Steve studies both of you for a second. Your heart rate skyrockets. Then he nods. “Alright. See you downstairs.”
He walks away. Bucky closes the door. You both immediately spin toward each other.
“Training?!” you whisper-yell.
“We cannot go to training!”
“We have to get to the warehouse!”
“I know!”
You start pacing again. “Okay okay okay, we need an excuse.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know!”
“We can’t just skip it.”
“Steve will hunt us down!”
“Exactly!”
Your brain spins. You run through every possible idea. Sick? Injured? Definitely not convincing. Then suddenly, a thought hits you. You stop pacing. Your face twists.
Bucky narrows his eyes. “What.”
“Nothing.”
“You thought of something.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did.”
You wave your hands. “It’s stupid.”
He crosses his arms. “What is it.”
You groan. “Bucky.”
“What.”
“It’s weird.”
“Just say it.”
You rub your face dramatically. “We could say I might be pregnant.”
Bucky blinks. He stares at you. Then his expression slowly shifts. “…That might actually work.”
Your eyes widen. “WAIT.” You immediately start backtracking. “Wait wait wait – how long have we even been dating in this universe?”
“I don’t know.”
“What if it’s like two weeks?!”
“Then that’s concerning.”
“Exactly!”
You start pacing again. “And also – maybe we haven’t even–” You gesture vaguely between the two of you. “–you know.”
Bucky tilts his head slightly. Then very casually says, “That hickey on your neck says otherwise.”
You freeze. “…What.”
Bucky nods toward your neck. “Right there.”
Your hand flies up instantly. “WHAT?!”
“Shh!”
“Are you serious?!”
“Yes!”
You spin toward the mirror across the room and nearly trip rushing over. You yank your shirt collar down slightly. Your eyes widen. “Oh my god.” There is absolutely a hickey on your neck. You whip back around. “BUCKY.”
He’s trying very hard not to laugh.
“This is not funny!”
“I didn’t do it!”
“You kind of did!”
He shrugs. “Technically.”
You stare at him. Your brain short circuits briefly. Then you close you eyes and shake your head. “Focus.”
“Right.”
You point at him. “We need to figure something out.”
“Agreed.”
“Soon.”
“Also agreed.”
You both pause. Then glance at the door. You look back at Bucky. “…This is a disaster.”
Bucky exhales. “Yep.”
You both stand there for a second. “…We really need a plan,” you say.
You and Bucky stare at each other for another long second.
“…We should just act normal,” you finally say.
Bucky exhales. “Normal?”
“Yes.”
“You mean pretend we know how our alternate universe selves act?”
You point at him. “Exactly.”
He rubs his face. “This is going to go badly.”
“Probably. But it’s still the best plan. Gather information. Don’t look suspicious. Then figure out how to get a jet.”
Bucky sighs. “Alright.”
You hesitate near the door. “…I should probably go get ready.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
You open the door slowly, peeking down the hallway like you’re committing a crime. No one’s there. You slip out quickly and head toward your room. The second the door shuts behind you, you lean back against it and exhale. Your heart is still racing. You cross the room, running a hand through your hair as your brain replays the last twenty minutes.
The warehouse. The machine. Waking up in Bucky’s bed. The hickey.
You groan and drag your hands over your face. “This is insane.”
You move to the mirror while pulling a clean shirt from your drawer. Your eyes immediately land on the mark on your neck again. You turn your head slightly, examining it. Your brain betrays you by imagining the very obvious person who could have put it there. You shake your head violently. “Nope.”
You change quickly, then go to the bathroom and wash your face, run a brush through your hair and put it into a ponytail. But while you’re tying your shoes, your mind drifts again. Because the thing that’s bothering you the most isn’t the multiverse. It’s the other part. You and Bucky. Dating.
You sit on the edge of your bed for a second. It feels weird. Really weird. But…you can also kind of see it. Which you absolutely do not want to admit. You and Bucky already spend a lot of time together. You already know each other’s habits. You already bicker like an old married couple half the time. And apparently in this universe…you just skipped the whole “figuring it out” part.
You shake your head again. “Nope,” you mutter. You stand up quickly. Mission first. Existential romantic crisis later.
You head back into the hallway and knock on Bucky’s door. He opens it a second later. He’s still in the sweatpants from earlier and now a dark t-shirt. You both pause awkwardly for half a second. Then he nods toward the hallway.
“Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
You start walking toward the elevator together. Your shoulders almost bump. Both of you subtly adjust your steps at the same time. It’s awkward. But also weirdly easy. You both know each other’s pace without thinking. Neither of you mentions it. When you walk into the kitchen, everyone is already there. Every single one of them turns to look at you. Sam immediately grins.
“Well look who finally decided to join us.”
Your stomach drops. You force a casual smile. “Morning.”
Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Rough morning?”
You sit down at the table quickly. “Why does everyone think that?”
Sam gestures between you and Bucky. “You two were yelling.”
Clint smirks. “Very loudly.”
You freeze. Bucky grabs a mug and starts making coffee. “Dropped something,” he says.
Sam leans back in his chair. “You drop things every morning?”
You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re very interested in our morning routine.”
“Oh, I’m extremely invested,” Sam says.
Natasha smirks into her coffee. Bucky sets a mug in front of you.
You blink. You didn’t even ask. He already made it exactly how you like it.
Sam notices immediately. “See?” he says loudly. “Domestic.”
Your face heats. “It’s coffee.”
“You didn’t even ask for it.”
“He knows how I like it.”
Sam leans toward Steve. “Domestic.”
Steve hides a smile behind his cup. You take a sip of the coffee. Yep. Exactly right. You refuse to acknowledge that.
Natasha watches you both carefully. “You two are acting weird today.”
You almost choke. “We are not.”
“You’re quieter.”
Clint nods. “Way quieter.”
Thor looks confused. “Are they usually louder?”
“Much,” Sam says.
You glare at him. Bucky sits down beside you. Not touching. Just…close. You feel hyper aware of it.
Tony sets down his fork. “So,” he says casually, “did you two sleep well?”
You and Bucky both choke. Sam immediately bursts out laughing.
“OH my god,” he says. “You definitely slept in.”
“We did not!” you say quickly.
Natasha smirks. “You look like you did.”
You shove a piece of toast in your mouth to stop talking. Wanda tilts her head.
“Didn’t you stay in Bucky’s room last night?”
You freeze. “…What?”
She looks confused. “You usually do.”
Sam nods. “Yeah, you basically live there.”
You look at Bucky. Bucky looks at you.
Clint grins. “You might as well just move in together already. You already spend like every night together.”
Your brain short circuits. Every night. Together. You stare very hard at your toast.
Sam grins at you both. “You two are red.”
“We are not.”
“You absolutely are.”
Natasha watches you. “You two fight or something?”
“No,” you say quickly.
“Yes,” Bucky says at the exact same time.
You both look at each other.
“…What?”
“…What?”
Sam slaps the table laughing. “Oh this is gold.”
Steve stands. “Training in five.”
You and Bucky both look horrified.
--
Training is worse. Because now everyone is watching you. And training starts with sparring rounds of course.
You stand across from Bucky on the mat. Sam leans against the wall.
“This is gonna be good.”
Natasha folds her arms. “Fight like you usually do.”
You and Bucky glance at each other. “…How do we usually do it?” you whisper.
“No idea.”
“Great.”
You lunge first. Bucky blocks easily. Your movements fall into rhythm almost instantly. Years of fighting together kick in automatically. You dodge. He counters. You spin. He catches your wrist. You freeze for half a second. He lets go quickly.
Sam whistles. “You two are weird today.”
You shove Bucky lightly. “Focus.”
He smirks. “You’re the one distracted.”
You narrow your eyes. “Oh really?”
You sweep his leg. He stumbles and grabs your arm to steady himself. For a split second you’re very close. You both freeze again.
Sam groans dramatically. “Just kiss already.”
“SAM!” you yell.
“WHAT.”
Natasha is watching with a small smile. “You two are adorable.”
You groan. “This is a nightmare.”
“Agreed,” Bucky mutters beside you.
Steve claps his hands. “Alright,” he says. “A few more sparring rounds.”
You wipe sweat from your forehead and groan quietly. Of course.
Natasha smirks from across the mat. “You two again.”
Sam grins. “Yeah, let’s see if they’re still mad at each other.”
“We are not mad at each other,” you say immediately.
Bucky glances at you. “You literally swept my leg five minutes ago.”
“That was training!”
Sam points at you both. “See? Tension.”
Steve sighs, but he’s smiling a little. “Alright, let’s go.”
You step onto the mat again, rolling your shoulders. Bucky stands across from you. For a second you both just look at each other.
“…We’re doing this again?” you mutter.
“Apparently.”
Sam leans on the wall again. “Don’t hold back just because you’re dating.”
Your face burns. “We are not holding back!”
“Sure,” Clint says from the corner. “Last week you pinned him in thirty seconds.”
You freeze. “…I did?”
Clint nods. “You bragged about it for like an hour.”
Your eyes slowly shift to Bucky. You blink. Then shake your head.
“Okay.” You square up again. “Let’s go.”
You move first again. This time the rhythm is smoother. You’ve trained together so many times your bodies just…know. He blocks. You twist. He counters. You duck under his arm and shove him backward.
Sam whistles. “There it is.”
You try not to think about the fact that Bucky’s hands keep catching you before you stumble. Or that every time you step wrong he steadies you automatically. You swing again. He dodges.
At one point, your ponytail comes loose slightly, strands sticking to the side of your sweaty face.
You try to blow them away. But before you can fix it, Bucky reaches out. His fingers brush lightly against your temple as he tucks the loose strands back into your ponytail.
The movement is automatic. Effortless. Like he’s done it a thousand times. You freeze for half a second. Your heart does something weird in your chest.
“…Thanks,” you mutter.
He just nods.
Sam immediately groans from across the room. “Oh my god.”
You glare at him. “What?”
“That was disgustingly domestic.”
“It was practical!”
Natasha smirks. “Sure.”
You spin back toward Bucky quickly. “Focus.”
“Right.”
You attack again just to distract yourself. But now you’re hyper aware of everything. Every time his hand brushes your arm. Every time he steadies you. Every time he adjusts his stance slightly so you don’t collide with someone behind you.
It’s not over-the-top couple stuff. It’s small things. Subtle. Things most people wouldn’t notice. But you notice.
Because in your universe…he doesn’t do them. At least not like this.
You step back to catch your breath. Bucky immediately reaches down and grabs your water bottle from the bench. He holds it out without looking. You stare at it.
“…How did you know I was about to grab that?”
“You always do after the second round.”
Your brain stalls. “Oh.” You take it slowly. “…Right.”
Sam is watching you both again. “You two are ridiculous.”
“Why?” you ask defensively.
“You move like a married couple.”
“We are not married!”
“Yet,” Clint says.
You choke on your water. “CLINT.”
Natasha laughs quietly. Steve walks past, shaking his head. “Alright, next drill.”
You hand the bottle back to Bucky automatically. He takes it without looking. Your brains are apparently on the same weird autopilot.
The drills continue. You and Bucky end up paired together again for partner work. Of course. While Steve explains the exercise, Sam leans toward you.
“So,” he says quietly, “you two good now?”
You blink. “…What?”
“You were arguing yesterday.”
You glance at Bucky. He shrugs slightly. You quickly nod.
“Yeah, we’re good.”
Sam grins. “Good. Because the silent treatment thing you two do is exhausting.”
Your brain trips. “…We do that?”
“Oh yeah,” Clint calls from the other side of the room. “You two get petty.”
Bucky mutters beside you, “That sounds accurate.”
You elbow him lightly.
“Hey.” Steve claps his hands. “Focus.”
The drill starts. This one is closer. Grappling practice. You try very hard not to think about the fact that Bucky’s hands are on your arms. Or your waist. Or that he’s standing way closer than usual.
He shifts your stance slightly. “Foot back,” he murmurs.
You adjust automatically. Your shoulder brushes his chest. Your heart flutters again. You try very hard to ignore that.
“Better,” he says.
You glance up at him. “…You’re very good at this boyfriend thing.”
The words slip out before you can stop them. His eyebrow lifts slightly.
“I’m just doing what I normally do.”
You blink. “…Right.”
Sam watches the two of you again. “You guys seem less weird now.”
You straighten quickly. “We were never weird.”
“Uh huh.”
You and Bucky exchange a quick glance. Apparently you’re faking it well enough now. But the teasing doesn’t stop. It just becomes…normal.
Sam bumps Bucky’s shoulder as everyone takes a break. “You still taking her to that place tonight?”
You freeze. “…What place?”
Sam looks confused. “The diner.”
Bucky nods slowly. “Yeah.”
You stare at him. Diner. Okay. New information.
Clint grins. “Your weekly date.”
Your brain short circuits. Weekly. Date.
Natasha smirks at your expression. “You two are very routine.”
You rub your face. “Good to know.”
Sam looks at you suspiciously. “You forget?”
“No!” You clear your throat. “I was just…thinking about something else.”
Sam shrugs. “Alright.”
Training resumes. But now your brain is spinning with all the little pieces of information you’ve gathered. You and Bucky spend most nights together. You have a weekly diner date. You fight and give each other the silent treatment.
And apparently…you’re very good at acting like a couple. Which is somehow the weirdest part of all. Because the more the morning goes on…the more natural it starts to feel.
--
Training finally ends. Everyone starts breaking off and grabbing water, stretching, or talking.
You and Bucky end up staying on the mat for a minute, stretching out sore muscles. Your shoulders ache. Your legs definitely ache.
Bucky sits on the mat beside you, stretching one arm across his chest. “…Well,” he says quietly.
You stretch forward, touching your toes. “That was horrible.”
“You handled it fine.”
“I did not,” you respond.
“You did.”
You glance sideways at him. “You kept doing boyfriend things.”
He shrugs. “They came naturally.”
“That’s concerning.”
He smirks slightly. “Maybe you just make it easy.”
You immediately look away. “Nope.”
You stand up quickly. “We should go before someone asks us more questions.”
Bucky nods. “Good idea.”
You both grab your things. A few people are still around, but no one really says anything as you leave the training room together. You exhale the second you step into the hallway.
“Okay.”
Bucky runs a hand through his hair. “So.”
“So.” You start walking toward the elevators. “New plan,” you say. “We act normal for a little longer.”
“Meaning?”
“Shower. Lunch. Normal routine.”
“And then?”
“Then we meet back up and figure out how to get to the warehouse.”
He nods slowly. “That works.”
You stop outside your door. “Alright.”
You point at him. “Go.”
“What?”
“Your room.”
He looks down the hall. “You’re kicking me out now?”
“Yes.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “Fine.”
--
The shower feels amazing. The second the hot water hits your shoulders, you let out a long breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. It loosens the tension in your shoulders. Your brain is still spinning though.
Multiverse.
Machine.
Other universes.
You and Bucky dating.
Your brain trips over that thought again. You sigh loudly. You grab shampoo and run a hand through your hair. You try to focus on the actual problem.
Step one: figure out what your other-universe selves have been doing.
Step two: figure out how to get to the warehouse.
Step three: activate the machine again.
Simple.
Except your brain keeps drifting back to the same thought. You and Bucky. Dating. You scrub your face. It’s so weird. But…
You sigh again.
You can kind of see it. Which is the annoying part. You rinse the shampoo out of your hair. You force your brain back to the plan.
Then a thought hits you. You straighten slightly under the water.
Your phone. You put everything in your calendar. Appointments. Training. Meetings. You’ll be able to see what you’ve done in this universe the past couple weeks and what you have coming up.
You rinse off quickly. You’re almost done when there’s a knock at the door. You blink. “…Yeah?”
The bathroom door opens. “Hey.”
You jump slightly. “Bucky!”
“What?”
“I’m showering!”
“And?”
Your eyes widen. “What do you mean and?”
“I can’t see you.”
“That’s not the point!”
“Plus we’re dating so–”
“No we aren’t.”
“Technically we are in this universe.”
You close your eyes and sigh. “…Whatever. Can you at least leave so I can dry off?”
“Yeah, alright.”
The door shuts. You turn the water off and step out of the shower. Then immediately freeze.
You realize you didn’t bring clothes into the bathroom. You look toward the door. You are about 95% percent sure Bucky did not actually leave your room. You sigh.
You dry off a little bit then wrap the towel around yourself and slowly open the bathroom door. Bucky is sitting on your bed. Of course he is.
You stop in the doorway. “…Seriously?”
He looks up. “What?”
You walk to your dresser. “Can you leave so I can get dressed?”
He tilts his head. “Uhh…that’s not really gonna convince anyone we’re a couple.”
You groan loudly. “Fine. But turn around.”
“Alright.”
He rotates on the bed so his back is facing you. “Better?”
“Yes.”
You change as fast as humanly possible. You try very hard not to think about the fact that Bucky Barnes is sitting a few feet away while you’re changing clothes. You pull your shirt down quickly.
“…Okay.”
He turns back around. “So,” he says.
“So.” You sit on the bed. “I was about to check my phone.”
“For what?”
“My calendar.”
He nods. “That’s smart.”
“I put everything in there.”
“Good.”
You point at him. “You should check yours too.”
He stands up. “Alright. It’s in my room.”
You stare at him. “You came here without your phone?”
“I wasn’t thinking about that.”
You sigh. “Go get it.”
“Okay.” He heads for the door. “I’ll be back.”
The door shuts. Silence fills the room. You take a deep breath.
“Okay.”
You grab your phone off the nightstand and tap the screen – then freeze. Your background is a picture of you and Bucky.
It’s clearly a selfie. Both of you are smiling so wide your cheeks look like they hurt. The photo is slightly blurry, like it was taken mid-laugh. Bucky’s face is close to yours. Really close. His nose is almost brushing your cheek. It looks like he either just kissed your cheek or was about to.
Your stomach flips. Your heart does something stupid in your chest.
“Ugh.”
You unlock the phone quickly. Your layout is almost identical to your phone in your universe. Same apps. Same folders.
But your eyes keep drifting back to that picture.
You sigh. Then you open the photos app.
The first few pictures are random things.
Screenshots. Food. A picture of the team during training. Then—
You and Bucky again. This one is clearly taken by someone else. You’re both sitting on the compound couch. You’re leaning against his shoulder while he’s looking down at something on his phone. Your expression is soft and relaxed. He’s smiling slightly.
You stare at it. “…Okay that’s cute.”
You scroll. Another one. This time it’s a group photo. Everyone is outside the compound. But Bucky has one arm around your shoulders and you’re both laughing at something. Your head is tilted toward him.
You zoom in slightly. “…Wow.”
You scroll again. There’s a mirror selfie. You’re both in your room. You’re holding a mug and Bucky’s standing behind you with his chin resting lightly on your shoulder.
You squint at the picture. “…Did we take this at like six in the morning?” Your hair looks messy. His looks worse. But you’re both smiling.
You scroll again. A picture from what looks like the diner Clint mentioned. You’re sitting across from each other in a booth. Someone clearly took it from the next booth over. You’re mid-laugh, leaning forward. Bucky is looking at you like you just said the funniest thing he’s ever heard. Your heart flutters again.
“…Why do we look so happy?”
You scroll again. A candid one. You’re walking across the compound lawn. Bucky is slightly behind you, grabbing your hand to pull you back toward him. You’re laughing over your shoulder.
You stare at the screen. “…Oh my god.”
You zoom in. His hand is wrapped around yours. Comfortable. Easy. Like it happens all the time.
You scroll again. This one is from a mission. You’re both in tactical gear. Your helmet is off and you’re both sweaty and dirty. But you’re leaning against him while he holds the camera. Both of you look exhausted and completely happy.
You groan quietly. “This is stupid.”
You keep scrolling anyway. There are so many. Selfies. Candids. Pictures someone else took. Pictures from dinners. Training. Random moments around the compound.
In almost every one, you’re touching, or leaning against him, or standing close. Smiling. And it looks so natural and so real.
You stare at the screen. “…This is ridiculous.”
But you can’t help it. You smile a little at one of them anyway.
The door opens a few minutes later. You react instantly, closing the photos and opening your calendar. You sit up straighter just as Bucky walks back in.
He shuts the door behind him and walks over, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Find anything?” he asks.
“Not yet.”
He drops onto the bed next to you and unlocks his phone.
“…Huh.”
You look up. “What?”
He tilts the phone slightly. “Cute.”
You lean over to see. It’s a picture you hadn’t seen on your phone. Someone else clearly took it. You’re outside somewhere on the compound lawn, sunlight bright behind you. Bucky is giving you a piggyback ride. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, your faces are pressed together, and you’re both laughing. Your cheek is smushed against his and you both have huge stupid grins.
Your stomach flips. You immediately lean back. “Can you focus?”
He looks at you. “What?”
“We’re supposed to be looking for useful information.”
“I just said it’s cute.”
You roll your eyes dramatically and go back to your calendar. “We don’t have time for this.”
“Relax,” he mutters.
You scroll through your calendar. He glances over at your phone.
“What was your background?”
You stop. “…Why does it matter?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m curious.”
You keep scrolling. “Focus.”
A second passes. Then–
“Was it the same picture?”
“No.”
“Was it even me?”
You sigh loudly. “Yes.”
“I wanna see it.”
You close your eyes for a second. “…Bucky.”
“What?”
You sigh again and lock your phone. Then you tap the screen so the lock screen lights up.
The selfie appears again. Bucky studies it.
“…That’s cute too.”
You immediately unlock the phone again. “Focus.”
You look more closely at your schedule for today.
“Okay,” you say.
“What?”
“I have a meeting at two.”
“With who?”
“The whole team I’m assuming.”
He nods. “That sounds right.”
You scroll farther down. “…And apparently we have a diner date tonight.”
He snorts quietly. “Weekly.”
“Clint mentioned that.”
You scroll through the past few days. Training. Meetings. Some random things. You frown slightly. “No mission.”
“What?”
“In our universe we had that warehouse mission.”
“Right.”
You tilt the phone toward him. “Nothing like that here.”
He nods slowly. “Huh.”
You keep scrolling. The last few weeks are mostly the same routine. You sigh and toss the phone onto the bed. “Nothing helpful.”
Bucky shrugs. “Same.”
He scrolls through something else. You lean over slightly. “What are you looking at?”
“Texts.”
“Oh.”
You grab your phone again and open your messages. You scroll through conversations.
Then, you open your conversation with Bucky. It’s surprisingly short. “…Huh.”
“What?”
“We barely text.”
He glances over. “Probably because we’re always together.”
You roll your eyes. “Very funny.”
You scroll through the messages anyway.
Most of them are random messages or reminders. You keep scrolling. Then you stop.
“…Oh my god.”
“What?”
You tilt the phone away slightly. “Nothing.”
He leans closer. “What?”
You sigh. “You sent me a shirtless gym picture.”
He grins immediately. “I bet I look good.”
“No.”
Bucky laughs. “Well I’m sure you liked it in this universe.”
You roll your eyes and scroll again. Then you half laugh half groan.
“You sent me a meme that just says ‘date night?’ with a picture of a grilled cheese.”
“We were probably making grilled cheeses.”
“You’re ridiculous,” you say, closing the messages. “Nothing helpful.”
Bucky shrugs. “Maybe pictures?”
You try very hard to act normal. “Yeah.”
You open the photos app again. Bucky immediately starts scrolling through his. A second later he turns the phone toward you.
“Look at this one.”
It’s another picture of the two of you. This one you saw earlier. The couch one.
“Nice,” you say quickly.
He scrolls again. “Oh, look at this one.”
He shows you another. You both look half-asleep in the compound kitchen. His chin is resting on your shoulder, similar to the mirror picture you saw.
You sigh. “Okay.”
He scrolls again. “Oh wow.”
“What now?”
He turns the phone. It’s a picture of you sitting cross-legged on the training mat. Your hair is a mess and you’re glaring at the camera.
You groan. “Oh my god.”
Bucky laughs. “You look so mad.”
“Because I probably was.”
He scrolls again. “Oh this is embarrassing.”
“What?”
He shows you another one. It’s a selfie you apparently took of him while he was asleep on the couch. His mouth is slightly open and you’re doing a thumbs up.
You burst out laughing.
“I’m not proud of that,” he says, shaking his head.
He scrolls again.
“Wait.”
“What?”
He shows you another one. You’re both at the diner again. But this time you’re sitting on the same side of the booth. Your head is leaning on his shoulder while you’re looking at the menu.
Your heart does that stupid flutter thing again. You try to ignore it.
“I’m assuming this is at the diner,” he says.
“Yeah.”
You scroll for a few more minutes.
“Anything useful?” you ask.
He shakes his head. “Not really.”
You open a few other apps. Notes, maps, but don’t find anything helpful. You sigh and fall back onto the bed. “Well.”
Bucky sets his phone down. “That was productive.”
“Not really.”
You stare at the ceiling. “…At least we know we’re cute.”
He snorts. You immediately sit up.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Sure.”
You point at him. “Focus.”
He’s still half-smirking at you. You narrow your eyes.
“What.”
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing that face.”
“What face?”
“The I know something you don’t face.”
He leans back against the headboard. “I’m just saying.”
“Oh no.”
“You’re the one who said we’re cute.”
You groan and drop back against the mattress. “That is not what I meant.”
“Sure.”
You point at him again. “We need to decide what we’re doing.”
“Right.”
You sit up again. “I think we should just tell Steve.”
Bucky tilts his head. “Already?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because this is ridiculous!” You gesture between the two of you. “We’re pretending to be ourselves in a universe where we’re apparently dating and living the same life except not exactly and we don’t know anything about what’s happened here!”
He nods slowly. “Fair.”
“So we tell Steve.”
Bucky thinks about it. Then shakes his head slightly. “I think we should wait.”
You blink. “Why?”
“Because we still don’t know how different this universe is.”
You cross your arms. “So?”
“So maybe we gather a little more information first.”
You sigh. “Like what?”
“The meeting.”
You pause. “…Right.”
You forgot about that. You glance at your phone.
“Two o’clock.”
“Exactly.”
You groan. “That’s hours away.”
He shrugs. “We go to lunch.”
“And?”
“Hang around.”
You stare at him. “This is the worst plan.”
“It’s a patient plan.”
“It’s a slow plan.”
He smirks. “You’re impatient.”
You shake your head. “I’m practical.”
“Sure.”
You sigh dramatically and stand up. “Fine. Lunch.”
“Lunch,” he agrees.
--
The kitchen is busy again when you walk in. Everyone is already there.
Sam looks up the second you and Bucky walk in.
“Look who it is.”
You sigh. “Don’t start.”
“Start what?”
“The commentary.”
He grins. “Relax. You two seem normal again.”
You glance at Bucky. “…Normal?”
Clint nods. “Less weird.”
Bucky moves past you toward the fridge while you grab a plate. Conversation flows around the table, mostly the same kind of random chatter you’re used to.
At one point Wanda asks Thor about something from a mission. Clint argues with Sam about football. It all feels…normal. Almost exactly like your universe. You relax slightly. Maybe this universe isn’t that different after all.
There’s food laid out to make sandwiches, so you and Bucky do what you always do whenever there’s sandwiches for lunch. You each make your own sandwich, easily moving around each other and handing each other stuff because you know exactly what the other needs next. Then, once the sandwiches are made, you each cut yours in half and trade one half for the other, so you each have a half of each sandwich.
When you start walking towards the table, you realize everyone is staring.
“…Wow,” Tony says.
You look at him. “What?”
“You guys were…weirdly synced up while making those.”
“And did you guys just trade halves?” Sam says, laughing.
“Uhh, yeah,” you say. “And?”
Clint grins. “I’ve never seen something more…coupley.”
“Yeah, that was kinda gross,” Nat agrees.
“I think it’s cute,” Wanda says.
Steve just tries to hide a proud grin.
You glance over at Bucky, realizing that in this universe, you must not do the famous “sandwich swap” as everyone else calls it. In your universe, they think it’s funny. In this universe, they think it’s a couple thing. Which makes you realize it really does look like a couple thing.
You make your way to the table and sit down, with Bucky sitting right next to you.
Natasha smirks. “You two are ridiculous.”
You feel your face heating up.
Sam grins. “You two are so obvious.”
You shove your sandwich into your mouth just to avoid talking.
--
After lunch everyone ends up lingering in the common room. Sam and Clint are arguing over something on TV. Thor is explaining something loudly to Bruce. Natasha is reading on the couch.
You sit in one of the chairs with Bucky beside you. “Anything different?” you murmur.
“Not really.”
You nod slightly. “So far everything seems the same.”
“Mostly.”
Steve walks through at one point. “Meeting in ten.”
You sigh. “Great.”
The meeting takes forever. And it’s about the most boring thing possible. A follow-up discussion about a mission from a few months ago. You sit at the table beside Bucky trying very hard to look interested, but your brain is already fried.
Halfway through you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You glance down under the table.
Bucky: Did we do this mission in our universe?
You type back quickly.
You: Yeah but we wrapped it up faster
Bucky: This meeting is brutal
You glance sideways at him. He’s staring forward like he’s paying attention. You bite back a smile and type.
You: Focus
Bucky: No
You kick his foot lightly under the table. He doesn’t react. Steve finally finishes the meeting nearly an hour later. “Alright,” he says. “That’s it for today.”
You exhale. Finally. You get up to leave and head to Bucky’s room.
You drop onto the bed. “…Okay.”
Bucky shuts the door. “So.”
“So.” You sit up again. “Do we go tell Steve now?”
He leans against the dresser. “Well…”
You stare at him. “What.”
“Our diner date.”
Your brain stalls. “…Oh.” You forgot about that. You stare at him. “Do you want to go?”
He shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about those burgers all day.”
You laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”
He grins. “So?”
You sigh. “Fine. We can go. Then we figure out the warehouse tonight.”
He nods. “Deal.”
He sits down on the bed next to you.
“Okay,” you say. “Let’s find diner pictures to see what time we usually go.”
You both open your phones. You scroll through photos again.
“Here,” Bucky says.
He turns the phone toward you. It’s another diner picture. You’re sitting across from him holding a milkshake. He’s halfway through a burger.
“This was around 8:15,” he says.
“So we go around eight.”
You scroll farther. “Oh my god.”
“What?”
You turn your phone. It’s a picture of Bucky trying to fit an entire stack of fries into his mouth.
He squints at it. “…Delete that.”
“No.”
He scrolls again. “Oh wow.”
“What now?”
He turns the phone. It’s a picture of you at the diner with food all over your face. Your hand is blurry with a napkin in it like you were trying to wipe it off, but Bucky took the picture before you had the chance.
You groan. “You’re lucky you have super soldier reflexes.”
He just laughs.
You scroll more, then find a picture where you’re both in the kitchen wearing matching hoodies. You freeze.
“…Are those the same hoodie?”
Bucky squints. “…I think so.”
You both stare at the picture. Then quickly scroll past it.
You scroll through more photos.
Some from missions. Some from training. Some random ones around the compound. One where Sam clearly shoved both of you into a photo together. One where Bucky is making a stupid face behind you while you’re brushing your teeth.
You burst out laughing. “You look ridiculous.”
“You’re the one taking a picture while you brush your teeth.”
You scroll again. You find another candid. You’re both sitting outside on the compound steps watching the sunset. You’re leaning against his shoulder. You stare at the picture a little longer than you mean to.
Bucky nudges you.
“What?” you ask.
“Nothing.”
You keep scrolling. Eventually both of you lean back against the headboard. Your shoulders press together naturally. Neither of you moves. You keep showing each other pictures and laughing, and groaning at embarrassing ones.
You shake your head. “This is humiliating.”
“Some of these are great.”
You glance at him. “…They are.”
You scroll to another picture. This one is a blurry selfie where you’re both laughing so hard the photo shook. You smile despite yourself. You hate how warm your chest feels. You glance sideways at him. He’s smiling at the picture too. Your heart flutters again.
You quickly look back at your phone. But a quiet thought slips through your brain anyway. Despite everything. Despite the stress. Despite not knowing how you’ll get home. You realize something.
As long as Bucky’s here, you’ll be okay.
And you really, really try not to think about what that might mean.
--
By the time you leave the compound, the sun is starting to dip lower in the sky.
You and Bucky walk side by side down the sidewalk toward the little diner a few blocks away. The air is cooler now, and the quiet of the evening makes everything feel strangely normal. Which is weird, because nothing about today has been normal.
You shove your hands into your jacket pockets. “What if this doesn’t work?” you ask.
“What?”
“If Steve doesn’t believe us.”
Bucky shrugs slightly. “Then we steal a jet.”
You snort. “That’s your backup plan?”
“Worked earlier.”
“We didn’t steal anything earlier.”
“We talked about it.”
“That’s not the same.”
He glances at you with a small smirk. “You’re still considering it.”
“…Maybe.”
The diner comes into view at the corner. You both slow slightly. “Alright,” you say. “Game faces.”
Bucky raises an eyebrow. “For burgers?”
“For pretending we know what we’re doing.”
He pushes the door open. The bell above it jingles. Immediately the smell of fries and grilled burgers fills the air. Your stomach growls.
“Okay,” you admit. “Maybe this part isn’t so bad.”
You slide into a booth near the window. Bucky sits across from you. You barely have time to look at the menu before a waitress walks over. She smiles brightly when she sees you.
“Well hey there.”
You blink. “Hi.”
Without asking anything, she sets two drinks down. Then a milkshake. With two straws. You and Bucky both stare at it.
“Your usual?” she asks casually.
You and Bucky glance at each other. Then back at her.
“Yeah,” you say carefully.
She nods. “Alright, that’ll be right out.”
She disappears toward the kitchen. You both stare at the milkshake. Then you both start laughing quietly.
“She knows us,” you say.
“Apparently.”
You tap the side of the glass. “Shared milkshake. Very romantic.”
He smirks. You both take a sip. It’s really good.
You lean back in the booth. “Okay,” you say. “Plan.”
“Right.”
You lower your voice slightly. “We tell Steve everything.”
Bucky nods.
You sigh. “I just hope he believes us.”
“He probably will.”
“You sound very confident.”
“He’s dealt with stranger things.”
“That’s fair.”
The waitress returns a few minutes later and drops two plates in front of you. Both have a cheeseburger with fries piled high on the sides.
“Enjoy,” she says with a smile.
“Thank you,” you say.
She walks away as you pick up your burger and take a bite. Your eyes widen. “Oh wow.”
Bucky laughs. “Told you.”
You both eat for a few minutes. The tension of the day slowly fades a little. But eventually you set your burger down.
“We should go after this.”
He nods. “We need to figure this out.”
“And we have no idea what’s happening in our universe.”
“Exactly.”
You both finish eating. Bucky grabs the check before you can even look at it.
“You don’t have to–”
He shakes his head. “It’s fine.”
He pays quickly. A few minutes later you’re walking back toward the compound. The common room is busy when you walk back in.
They all look up. Sam immediately grins. “Well?”
You blink. “Well what?”
“The date.”
You sigh. “It was good.”
Clint smirks. “Burgers?”
“Yes.”
Bucky looks over at Steve, who’s standing near the table. “Hey Steve?”
Steve looks up. “Yeah?”
“Can we talk?”
Steve nods immediately. “Sure.”
You and Bucky start walking toward the hallway. Steve follows you. You lead the way back to Bucky’s room. Once the door shuts behind you, Steve looks between the two of you.
“What’s going on?”
Bucky rubs the back of his neck. “…Okay.”
Steve’s expression grows slightly concerned.
“This is gonna sound really weird,” Bucky says.
Steve nods slowly.
“But you have to trust me.”
Steve folds his arms. “…Okay.”
Bucky takes a breath. “We’re not from this universe.”
Steve blinks. Silence fills the room.
You add quickly, “We were on a mission.”
Steve looks between you again. “What kind of mission?”
“We were looking for intel,” you explain. “We thought it was related to multiverse experiments.”
Steve’s brow furrows. Bucky continues.
“We found some tech there too.”
“And we accidentally triggered a machine,” you say.
Steve’s expression grows more confused.
“And it sent us here,” Bucky finishes.
Another pause. Steve looks…very lost. And a little concerned.
Bucky gestures vaguely. “That’s why we were yelling this morning.”
Steve blinks. “…What?”
“When we woke up,” you say quickly. “We had no idea where we were.”
“And also we were cuddling,” Bucky adds.
You bury your face in your hands. “Bucky.”
“What?”
Steve raises his eyebrows. “Cuddling?”
“We’re not dating in our universe,” Bucky explains.
Steve slowly nods. “…Okay.”
He thinks for a second. “You were acting really weird this morning.”
You nod. “Yeah.”
Steve rubs his chin. “Wait.” He looks up. “Where is this warehouse?”
“Romania,” Bucky answers.
Steve’s eyes widen slightly. “Romania?”
You nod. “You have that intel too?”
Steve exhales. “We just got word about this a few days ago.”
You blink. “Really?”
He nods. “We don’t have much information yet.”
He closes the folder. “So actually…” He looks between you both. “This helps.”
You feel a small spark of relief. “So you believe us?” you ask.
Steve nods slowly. “…Yeah.”
You and Bucky exchange a quick look. Steve straightens slightly.
“Then we should go. If that machine sent you here, maybe it can send you back.”
“That’s what we were thinking,” you say.
“Okay,” Steve says. “Do you guys know how to get there?”
“Yes,” Bucky answers.
“Alright. Get suited up, meet at the jet in 10.”
As soon as Steve leaves, you glance over at Bucky. “That went better than expected.”
“Yeah,” he agrees.
You leave to get ready, then you walk into the hangar the same time Bucky does. When Steve comes in a few minutes later, he says that he told the team they’d be leaving and that he’d explain when he got back.
You get on the jet and it’s not long before you’re in the air.
“This could work,” you say quietly.
Bucky nods. “I think so.”
“Unless it sends us somewhere else.”
He smirks slightly. “…Let’s not think about that.”
The flight is quiet. The warehouse sits in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and empty fields. You land about a mile out. Steve powers the jet down.
“You two lead the way,” he says.
You nod. You and Bucky head toward the treeline. The walk is quick. Adrenaline pushes you forward. Soon the warehouse comes into view. It’s dark and silent, exactly like the first time.
“Clear,” Bucky mutters as you enter.
The building echoes softly with your footsteps as you make your way to the room. You stop in the doorway.
“It’s the same,” you say.
The equipment is exactly where it was. The circular platform in the floor. The consoles along the walls. Steve steps inside slowly.
“This is it?”
“Yeah,” Bucky says.
You walk over to the console. “Now we just have to remember what we did.”
You stare at the controls. Bucky starts checking cables. Steve watches from a few steps back.
“Try that,” Bucky says.
You press a button. Nothing happens. “Great.”
You flip a switch. Still nothing. Bucky suddenly reaches over and reconnects one of the loose cables. The console hums to life. Lights flicker across the platform. You jump slightly. The platform begins to glow.
Steve steps back immediately. “Alright,” he says. “Looks like it’s working.”
You glance at Bucky. He nods. “Ready?”
“As we’ll ever be.”
You both step toward the platform. The air begins to vibrate. That same low hum fills the room. Steve watches carefully from the corner of the room.
“Good luck,” he says.
You take one more breath. Then you both step onto the platform. The light intensifies. Your vision bends. Your stomach flips violently.
Summary: You're the quiet new girl, but when you stumble home drunk from the bar after going out with some old friends and start yapping to Bucky as he takes care of you, things shift between you two.
Word Count: 11,319
You’re not really the “life of the party” type. Everyone at the compound knows you’re quiet – even among Avengers, who run the full spectrum of weird and loud, you’re known for hovering at the back of the room, listening more than speaking. Bucky especially seems to get it. He’s quiet too. You’ve always liked that about him, even if it means you don’t actually talk to him much.
So when you agreed to go out tonight with old friends in the city, everyone was surprised. Hell, you surprised yourself. But it was fine. Fun, even. A little too much fun.
When you get back to the compound, it’s well after midnight. You fumble with the door code, giggling at your own clumsiness. Finally you get it open and stumble inside.
Bucky is the only one in the kitchen. He's leaning on the counter in sweatpants and a t-shirt, looking broody and tired. Typical Bucky. Probably another night he couldn’t sleep. He glances up at you, expecting you to nod at him shyly and disappear to your room like you always do.
Instead you beam at him.
“Buckyyyyyy!” you squeal, far too loud for the hour.
His eyebrows jump. “Uh…hey.”
“Oh my God,” you say, immediately plopping onto one of the stools at the island. “You’re awake! Good. Hi. How’s your night going? I went out with Abby and Bailey and their friends – I mean I didn’t know the other people but it was fine – actually some of them were weird, but it was fun, y’know? I think I had like five drinks? Wait, maybe six. A margarita. And something with elderflower? Do you know what elderflower is?”
He’s blinking at you. You. The person who never says more than five words at once. Now you’re talking a mile a minute, eyes bright, hair mussed from the wind outside, cheeks flushed. You don’t even wait for an answer. You keep going:
“And my feet are killing me, oh my God, these shoes are awful. I can’t wait to get out of this outfit, everything is digging in the wrong places and the zipper is evil and–”
Bucky clears his throat, pushing off the counter. “Okay. Yeah. Uh…why don’t you…drink some water, huh?” He fills a glass for you and sets it down carefully in front of you like you’re a small animal he’s afraid will bolt.
You beam at him. “You’re so nice,” you say, picking it up with exaggerated care. “I was so thirsty. Wow. You’re like…thoughtful. Super thoughtful. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Drink,” he says gently, nodding. You take a big gulp, then set it down, your attention immediately going to your shoes.
“Ugh these heels are the worst idea I’ve ever had,” you groan, trying to unbuckle one. You almost slide right off the stool with the effort.
“Hey – whoa.” He steps forward and braces your arm. “Don’t fall, doll.”
You giggle at the nickname. “You called me doll.”
He sighs softly, but there’s amusement behind it. “Just…hold still, okay?” He kneels down in front of you, big hands surprisingly gentle as he undoes the straps on your shoes.
You watch him with a goofy grin. “You’re like a prince. Like Cinderella but in reverse. Prince Barnes. Has a nice ring to it.”
He huffs a laugh under his breath. “Sure. Let’s go with that.” He slides the shoes off one at a time and sets them aside. Your toes wiggle in relief.
“Thank you,” you say, sing-songy. “You’re so good at this. Have you done this before? You seem like you have. I bet you’re great at tying shoes too.”
He raises an eyebrow at you as he stands. “You’re real talkative tonight.”
You blink at him, offended in the mildest way. “Am I not usually? Wait – don’t answer that. I know I’m not. But you’re quiet too! That’s why I like you. You’re…you’re easy to be quiet with. But also you’re so good to talk to, Bucky. Like, you’re listening, I can tell.”
He rubs his jaw. “Yeah. Listening. Definitely listening.”
You lean your elbows on the counter, still babbling. “We should do this more often. Me talking, you listening. Actually you should talk too. We could both talk. Or both not talk. I’m very flexible. Also why are you making that face?”
He has turned to rummage in the kitchen and comes back with a slice of bread. He sets it on a napkin in front of you. “Eat,” he says simply.
You squint at the bread, then at him. “Why?”
“Because you’re drunk, and you need something in your stomach.”
You pick up the bread obediently. “You’re so bossy. I like that. Thank you.” You take a dramatic bite. Crumbs go everywhere. “Mmm. Sober bread.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head with a tiny, disbelieving smile. “Sober bread. Got it.”
You point at him with the bread. “You’re the best, Bucky. Really. The best.”
He grabs a towel to wipe the crumbs from the counter, side-eyeing you but clearly trying not to laugh. “Okay, okay. Finish that, drink your water. Then let’s get you out of here before you wake up Steve.”
You gasp. “I would never wake Steve. He’s so serious when he’s mad.”
“Exactly.” He pats your shoulder carefully. “Drink up.”
You grin at him, impossibly happy despite your discomfort. Despite your usual shyness. Because Bucky’s there. Taking care of you.
You chew another bite of bread and raise your water glass in a toast. “To Bucky Barnes. My very bestest quiet friend.”
He snorts. “Yeah, yeah. Cheers, doll.”
You finish the bread (half of it, really – crumbs go everywhere), gulp down the rest of the water, and plant your palms on the island like you’re about to make a big announcement.
“Okay,” you declare. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Bucky just stares at you for a second, arms folded. “Go…where?”
“My room, obviously,” you say with all the dignity of someone who just nearly fell off the chair earlier. “I can’t sleep here, Bucky.”
He rolls his eyes, exhaling in that slow, resigned way he does when he’s about to do something he never asked for but will absolutely see through. He holds out a hand. “Come on.”
You slap your palm into his with unnecessary enthusiasm. “Yay! Thank you.”
He helps you slide off the chair carefully, keeping a steady hand at your waist when you wobble. You don’t even notice – you’re too busy talking.
“So I told Bailey she’s too good for that asshole, right? Because she is. And she was like noooo, he’s nice and I’m like girl no, and then Abby wanted shots but I was like nope, and then – wait, do you have my shoes?”
He holds up the heels in his free hand. “Got ’em.”
“Good,” you say solemnly. “They’re evil. Don’t let them trick you.”
“Right,” he mutters, guiding you slowly down the hall.
You keep chattering. “Anyway, they said I should go out more but I don’t know, bars are so loud, you know? But it’s nice seeing them. But I like it here. It’s quieter. And you’re here. And you’re nice. Did you know you’re nice?”
“Mm-hm.”
“You’re rolling your eyes at me,” you accuse.
“Not yet,” he lies flatly.
You snort. “You’re so serious, Bucky. I bet you were fun once. Before the whole…murder stuff.”
He actually coughs a laugh at that, then tries to hide it behind a scowl. “Jesus, you’re a menace tonight.”
“Thank you,” you say brightly.
He herds you to your door, but when he opens it and gently tries to nudge you inside, you immediately start fumbling with the zipper at your side.
“Ugh, this stupid thing – help me get it off,” you mumble, twisting around clumsily.
He freezes. “Nope.”
“Pleeeease,” you whine. “I can’t reach – just – zip – down–”
“Bathroom,” he orders, steering you bodily toward it.
“But why?”
“Because you’re drunk and I’m not undressing you in the damn hallway.”
You laugh so hard you hiccup. “You’re so proper. Such a gentleman. It’s fine, you can see my bra, it’s not even a good one–”
He groans, scrubbing a hand over his face, then takes you by the shoulders and turns you firmly. “Bathroom. Go.”
You shuffle in, still talking. “Seriously it’s okay, I trust you, I don’t care if you see – Bucky? Bucky come help me.”
He leans in the doorframe, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not looking. Turn around.”
You do as you’re told, pouting at the mirror. He sighs, steps in, and very carefully, very briskly, zips it down just enough. “There. Finish it yourself.”
You grin at him in the mirror. “You’re so blushy. That’s cute.”
“Finish. It. Yourself.” He flees to stand outside the door.
You giggle the whole time you’re wriggling out of the outfit and pulling on your oversized sleep shirt, narrating through the door.
“Almost done…okay – wait – stuck…okay now I’m done…are you still there? Bucky? Buckyyyy.”
“Still here,” he calls, voice flat but amused.
“Good. Don’t leave.”
When you open the door again you’re in your giant t-shirt, hair a mess, eyes sleepy and happy. He eyes you critically. “Better?” he asks.
“Much,” you say, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him before he can dodge. You rest your head on his chest. “You’re so nice. Have I said that?”
He sighs but his hand lands on your back automatically. “Once or twice.”
You pull back enough to look up at him with droopy, happy eyes. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
He snorts. “Yeah. Anytime.”
“Really?”
He hesitates, then nods. “Really.”
You grin so wide it hurts your face. “You’re my favorite.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, gently steering you toward your bed. “Get in.”
You flop in without grace, giggling again. He sets your evil shoes by the door. “Stay until I fall asleep?” you ask, voice small now.
He gives you a look that’s half fond, half resigned. “Yeah. Okay.”
You snuggle under your blanket, finally quiet except for one last mumble: “Best quiet friend ever.”
He chuckles softly and sits in the chair across from your bed, arms folded. Watching over you. “Go to sleep, doll.”
You lie there in bed in your room for a while, watching the shadows on the ceiling. You’re quiet now, but your brain is buzzing. The alcohol’s made you warm, restless, too aware of everything.
You hear the chair creak quietly as Bucky stands up. He hesitates by your door, then softly closes it behind him. You don’t say anything. You could. But you don’t. Instead you lie there listening to the silence, willing yourself to sleep. It doesn’t work.
After a few minutes you shove your blanket aside and get up, padding barefoot across the hall. You pause at his door, debating for all of half a second before knocking. It takes a moment. The door opens partway, revealing Bucky in that same t-shirt and sweatpants, hair a little mussed.
He squints at you. “What.”
You blink at him owlishly. “Hi.”
He rubs a hand down his face. “Hi. What’s wrong?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” you say immediately, stepping closer like you’re about to just invite yourself in.
He leans on the doorframe, looking so tired you almost feel bad. Almost. “Did you even try?” he asks flatly.
You scowl. “Yeah. I tried so hard. It’s not my fault it didn’t work.”
He just sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. But you’re already slipping past him into his room.
“You have so much space in here,” you say, immediately looking around like you’re on a tour. “It’s so tidy. It’s very you. Oh my god, you have books on your nightstand. What are you reading? Wait, are those socks on the chair? Bucky, did you actually leave something out? That’s so unlike you.”
“Can we not do this right now?” he mutters.
You spin to face him, all innocent. “Do what?”
He crosses his arms. “You. Talking. In my room. When you should be in your room.”
You blink. “But I want to stay here.”
“No.”
You pout. Then you lower yourself onto the floor with dramatic flair.
He stares. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Staying here,” you say primly, folding your hands in your lap. “I’ll sleep on the ground.”
He closes his eyes like he’s praying for patience. “Jesus, doll. Come on.”
You don’t move. You just keep talking.
“Your floor is really hard, you know. You should get a rug. Maybe a nice patterned one. What’s your aesthetic? Vintage murder shack? Ex-assassin chic?”
He tries not to laugh but you see it twitch at the corner of his mouth. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters.
“Thank you,” you say brightly.
He pinches the bridge of his nose again. “Get up. Come on. At least sleep on the bed.”
“No,” you say immediately. “I’m fine here.”
“No, you’re not,” he says, voice low but exasperated. “You’re gonna wake up with your back wrecked. And then Steve will yell at me. Get. Up.”
You look up at him and give your best pleading eyes. “Please?”
He groans. “You can have the bed.”
You grin and scramble to your feet. “We can share.”
He holds up a hand. “No–”
But you’re already crawling onto the mattress and flopping onto your side. “It’s fine, there’s space. Come on. Don’t be weird.”
He just stares at you for a long moment. Then sighs. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
He crosses the room and closes his door, then finally, finally gets into the bed, clearly against his better judgment. He crawls in slow, facing you, looking at you like you’re an unpredictable animal. You just beam at him, eyes heavy-lidded but too happy to stop.
“Your bed is comfier than mine,” you say immediately.
He sighs. “Uh-huh.”
“And it smells like you.”
He flushes. “Stop.”
“I’m serious!” you insist. “It’s nice. Like aftershave and laundry. Very Bucky. Very safe. I like it.”
He covers his face with one big hand. “Doll. Please.”
You giggle and poke his arm. “Your hair is messy. I like it like this.”
He peeks at you through his fingers. “You’re drunk.”
“Am not. I mean, maybe a little. But I know what I’m saying.”
He drops his hand and glares at you halfheartedly. “Can you shut up now?”
You snort. “Nope. Sorry. No can do.”
He huffs. You’re quiet for two seconds. Then:
“Do you think Steve would let me paint my room? I want a different color. Yours is all dark and broody but in a good way. I bet you picked it on purpose. It suits you. Like your shirts. You wear a lot of black. Is that a Winter Soldier thing or just personal preference? Also your metal arm is cool. Is it cold right now? Can I touch it? Wait, can I braid your hair someday? I bet you’d let me if I begged. Or maybe not. You’re stubborn. But I am too–”
“Jesus Christ,” he groans, cutting you off.
You just laugh, cheeks warm, eyes bright. And finally, finally, he shuffles closer under the covers, face to face with you, voice dropping. “Doll. Please. Sleep.”
You grin and nod, but your eyes are still wide open. He watches you for a moment. Then sighs. And he reaches out, brushing your hair back gently.
Your voice goes softer. “Okay. I’ll try. But don’t go anywhere.”
He huffs. “Not going anywhere.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah.”
You finally relax a little. But your voice still comes out in a sleep-slurred mumble. “You’re the best, Bucky. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”
He just shakes his head, amused. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
You’re quiet for maybe thirty seconds. Bucky actually dares to hope you’re out. Then your eyes blink open again in the dark. “Bucky?” you whisper.
He exhales. “Yeah?”
“I can’t fall asleep.”
He huffs, barely a laugh. “Shocking.”
You pout at him, your bottom lip catching the light from the crack under the door. “Don’t be mean. I’m trying.”
He shifts closer on the pillow, close enough that your noses almost touch. His voice is low, careful. “Just…close your eyes, doll.”
You obey for a second. Then they flutter open again. “Your room is warmer than mine,” you whisper conspiratorially.
“Blanket’s the same.”
“But your room is warmer,” you insists softly. “You like it warm, don’t you? That’s so weird.”
“It’s not weird.”
“It’s a little weird.”
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t move away. He can feel your breath fan against his cheek every time you talk. Your voice goes even quieter. “Your arm isn’t cold though. Is it warm because of you? Do you think it feels your body heat?”
He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose again. “Doll…”
“Sorry,” you murmur immediately, contrite. “Sorry. I’ll stop talking. I promise.”
He lets out a long breath. “Okay. Thank you.”
Silence. For about five seconds.
“Do you think Sam would let me use his wings if I asked nicely?” you whisper.
His eyes fly open. “No.”
“Even if I said please?”
He’s biting his lip to keep from laughing. “Absolutely not.”
You snicker softly, then wiggle a little closer under the blanket, forehead bumping his.
“I like your room,” you mumble.
“Yeah, you said that.”
“It’s nice. Safe.”
He swallows hard at that, voice going gentle despite himself. “Good. It’s supposed to be safe.”
You blink slowly at him. “Your eyes are pretty.”
He sighs, trying to scowl, but it doesn’t work. “You’re gonna kill me, doll.”
You smile, all sleepy and proud. “Good.”
You go quiet again, breathing slowing. Then, barely above a whisper: “Bucky?”
He opens one eye. “Hm.”
“I still can’t sleep.”
He breathes out slowly, resisting the urge to laugh. He shifts just enough to rest a heavy arm around you, metal fingers splaying across your back. “Try anyway,” he says softly.
You squirm in closer until your forehead rests against his collarbone. “Tell me to sleep,” you mumble.
“Sleep,” he orders, deadpan.
You giggle again but it’s muffled against him. “Say it nice.”
He rolls his eyes to the ceiling, then lowers his voice until it’s almost tender. “Go to sleep, doll.”
Your eyes droop. “’Kay.”
Silence. Your breathing evens out a little. He’s almost convinced you’re out. Then, even softer:
“Bucky?”
He nearly groans. “What, doll.”
“…you’re nice.”
He closes his eyes. “Yeah. I know.”
“Don’t leave,” you mumble, finally sounding truly exhausted.
He tightens his arm around you. “Not leaving.”
Your breath hitches once, like you might keep going – but this time you don’t. Your body goes limp, settling completely against his. Your breathing steadies. Finally asleep.
Bucky sighs. Lets his head rest against yours. “Goodnight,” he whispers so quietly you can’t hear it.
And for the first time in days, he thinks maybe he can sleep too.
--
You wake up slow.
Everything feels…heavy. Your head is pounding. Your mouth is dry. Your eyes don’t want to open. It’s too warm, too close. You shift a little and feel an arm tighten around you.
Wait.
You blink blearily, eyelashes dragging against someone’s shirt. Your brain is slow, cottony. You register warmth, the scent of soap and clean clothes. Solid muscle under your cheek.
You go still. You’re in someone’s bed. There’s an arm around your waist. You can feel the hard line of a metal arm over your back. Your heart jumps. Your breath hitches.
Your head is killing you but now you’re wide awake, eyes darting around even though your vision is blurry and you’re half buried under the covers. You manage to turn your head, squinting up.
Bucky Barnes is there. Asleep. Kind of.
One blue eye cracks open when you move, fixing on you. His stubble scratches against the pillow. “…hey,” he rasps, voice wrecked from sleep.
Your brain stops. You open your mouth. Nothing comes out. You try again.
“…Bucky?”
He just grunts. Tightens his arm slightly around you, like it’s automatic. You freeze.
“Why am I–” You wince at how hoarse your voice is. Clear your throat. “–why am I in your bed?”
He closes his eyes again. “You don’t remember?”
You’re about to say no. Absolutely not. Because it’s so absurd. But then–
Bucky I can’t sleep.
Your room is so warm.
I want to stay here.
Your bed smells like you.
Do you think Sam would let me use his wings?
Your eyes widen in horror. “Oh my God,” you whisper.
He cracks an eye open again at your tone. You’re staring at him, horrified. “I – did I – oh my God I wouldn’t shut up, would I?”
He huffs. It might be a laugh. He looks exhausted. “Nope,” he says simply.
Your stomach sinks. You bury your face in his shirt for a second in pure mortification, but you’re also so hungover you can’t move too fast or you’ll puke.
He sighs. His metal arm strokes your back absently.
You squeak. “Bucky – your arm – you’re holding me.”
“Yeah,” he mumbles. “You kept trying to get up last night. This was the only way to make you stop.”
Your mouth drops open. “You restrained me?”
He actually laughs this time, low and rough. “You wanted to sleep on my floor, doll. What was I supposed to do?”
You groan and cover your face with your hands. “I want to die. Please let me die.”
He huffs another laugh. “Stop.”
You peek at him between your fingers. His hair is messed up from sleep. He has pillow lines on his face. He’s still holding you. Your head is killing you.
You squeeze your eyes shut again. “I’m gonna be sick.”
He groans. “You better warn me first.”
“I feel gross.”
“I know.” He shifts carefully, loosening his hold just enough so you can move if you want. “I was gonna get you water when you woke up. Didn’t think you’d panic immediately.”
You let out a strangled sound that’s half laugh, half whine. “I’m so sorry.”
He sighs, but his thumb rubs your side gently. “It’s fine.”
You swallow. Your voice is small. “Did I really…talk that much?”
He gives you a look. You groan again and bury your face in his shirt.
You mumble against him, voice muffled. “I remember some of it. Not all. Oh God. I asked to braid your hair, didn’t I?”
“Yep.”
You let out another pained sound.
“You called me ‘bestest quiet friend,’” he adds helpfully.
You whimper. “Bucky please.”
He’s trying not to laugh at you, but it’s not working. You peek up at him, squinting.
“You’re way too amused for someone who didn’t sleep.”
He just shrugs, eyes heavy-lidded. “You’re cute when you’re drunk.”
Your jaw drops. He uses the moment to shift, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at you.
“Want that water now?”
You nod miserably. Your head is pounding. You stare up at the ceiling, replaying every stupid thing you remember saying. By the time he’s back with the water, you’re so red you can feel it. You sip it miserably.
Finally you mutter, voice hoarse: “...I can’t believe you let me stay.”
He snorts. “Couldn’t get you to leave.”
You peek at him over the rim of the cup. “...Thank you,” you say softly.
His expression softens. He reaches over to brush a strand of hair off your face. “Anytime, doll.”
You feel your heart do something dumb in your chest. You turn your face away to hide it, still sipping the water. Your voice is smaller, shy now. “...I’ll shut up now.”
He just chuckles, warm and rough. “Don’t,” he says quietly. “I like hearing you.”
And you think you might actually die after all. But for now, you sip your water and try to keep breathing, grateful he’s still here.
You’re still cringing into your cup of water when Bucky finally sighs and shifts beside you.
“Come on,” he says, voice gentler now that you’re clearly miserable. “Let’s get you up.”
You groan. “No.”
“Bathroom first,” he orders.
You try to burrow under the covers. “I’ll live here now. In your bed.”
“Not negotiable,” he says, pulling the blanket back.
You let out a pathetic whine but let him help you sit up. The world wobbles dangerously and you press a hand to your head with a hiss.
“Jesus, doll,” he mutters, steadying you with a hand on your back. “Easy. C’mon. Bathroom’s right there.”
He keeps one arm around you as you shuffle toward the bathroom. You stand in the doorway, glaring at the tile floor like it personally offended you.
“You gonna go in?” he asks dryly.
You make a face. “Don’t watch me.”
He snorts. “Please. Just don’t fall in. I’ll be right here.”
You manage a halfhearted scowl before closing the door. When you come back out, you’re pale but slightly more functional. He’s waiting, arms folded, leaning on the wall.
He eyes you. “Better?”
You nod miserably.
“Kitchen?”
“Coffee?” you plead.
“Yeah.”
He puts an arm around your waist like you’re injured, which you basically are, and half-guides, half-drags you down the hall. You’re grateful but mortified the whole way. When you get to the kitchen, it’s worse.
Everyone is there. All of them mid-conversation, laughing over mugs of coffee. They all stop talking when they see you two appear in the doorway, Bucky’s arm around you, you clinging to him with glassy, hungover eyes.
“Ohhhhhh,” Sam says immediately, eyes going wide with delight.
Clint whistles low. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
Tony raises an eyebrow, sipping his coffee, gaze sharp but amused. “Rough night?”
You immediately hide your face against Bucky’s shoulder with a muffled whimper. Bucky just sighs, giving your waist a reassuring squeeze. “She’s fine,” he announces. “Just hungover.”
Steve, ever the Boy Scout, looks you over with worried blue eyes. “You okay?”
You groan into Bucky’s shirt. “No.”
Bucky rolls his eyes. “She’s fine,” he repeats, guiding you to a chair.
Wanda is grinning. “You look adorable.”
You squint at her. “Stop.”
Sam leans back in his chair, arms behind his head. “So…how was it?”
You squint at him in confusion. “How was what?”
He smirks. “Last night.”
You let out a sound between a gasp and a groan and drop your head to the table.
Bucky is annoyingly calm as he moves to pour you coffee. “She was very talkative,” he says dryly.
Clint nearly chokes on his drink. “Talkative? Her?”
Nat’s eyebrow goes higher. “Do tell.”
Bucky sets the mug down in front of you, looking completely unbothered. “Didn’t shut up for hours.”
“BUCKY!” you squeak, horrified.
He pats your shoulder, pretending sympathy but absolutely smirking.
“I was in the kitchen when she got back, and she wouldn’t stop talking. Then she came into my room in the middle of the night. Knocked on my door and started rambling. Refused to go back to bed. Tried to sleep on my floor.”
Steve’s jaw drops. Sam’s cackling. Wanda’s covering her mouth to hide her laugh.
Tony is nearly falling off his chair. “Oh please tell me you let her.”
Bucky deadpans. “I tried to get her back to her room. She wouldn’t go. So yeah. She stayed.”
You let out a strangled whine and cover your face with both hands.
Nat’s voice is all mock-sweet. “Aww, you two had a sleepover?”
Bucky shrugs, completely throwing you under the bus. “She wouldn’t stop talking. All night. About my room. My arm. My hair. She wanted to braid it.”
Sam’s actually wheezing now. “Oh my god.”
Wanda leans over to squeeze your arm. “That’s so cute!”
You let out another mortified groan, peeking at Bucky with betrayal in your eyes. “You’re evil.”
He just slides the coffee mug closer to you. “Drink.”
You take it with shaking hands and hiss at the heat, glaring at him over the rim.
He just leans against the counter, arms folded, watching you with smug amusement.
Steve clears his throat, trying to look stern but his lips are twitching. “You okay now?”
Bucky glances at you, softening just a little. “Yeah. She’s okay.”
Your heart gives a little flip at that despite how embarrassed you are.
You scowl at your coffee. “You’re all mean.”
Sam claps the table, still laughing. “We love you!”
Tony grins. “Next time invite us to the sleepover.”
You shriek. “NO!”
Everyone laughs.
Bucky just reaches over to ruffle your hair like you’re a misbehaving kitten.
“Drink your coffee,” he says, softer now.
You huff. But you do.
--
A couple of weeks pass, enough for you to almost live down the embarrassment of that night. Almost.
They don’t let you forget it. Clint teases you every time you open your mouth. Sam does dramatic impressions. Nat just smirks knowingly. Bucky is the worst because he doesn’t tease at all. He just looks at you, eyebrow raised, like he’s waiting for you to start talking his ear off again.
But eventually the heat fades.
So when the team declares a night out – no missions on the schedule, no training in the morning – you’re determined it’ll be different.
Spoiler: it isn’t.
The bar is crowded, pulsing with music, low lights, and the tang of spilled beer and perfume. The team claims a big table. Everyone’s relaxed for once.
You promise yourself you’ll pace your drinks. But Tony orders a round of shots “for morale.” Sam insists you can’t waste a good margarita. Nat slides you something neon and evil with a sly grin.
By the time you realize you’re tipsy, it’s too late.
Bucky’s nursing a beer at the edge of the group, eyes scanning the bar out of old habit. He’s relaxed, though. Talking in low tones to Steve.
You spot him and beeline.
“Buckyyyyy,” you sing-song.
He looks over. Eyes narrow immediately.
“Oh no.”
You crash into his side, arms going around his waist, face burrowing against him like a clingy cat.
“Hi,” you slur, beaming up at him.
“Hi,” he says slowly. “How many have you had?”
“Dunno,” you say cheerfully. “But I feel great. Do you feel great? You should feel great. You look great.”
Steve chokes on his beer. Bucky side-eyes him murderously, then huffs down at you.
“Christ. Again?”
You just giggle and tug on his shirt. “Come onnn. Dance with me.”
“No.”
“Please?”
He plants himself more firmly. “Doll, I don’t dance.”
You make a dramatic wounded sound. “You have to. It’s team night. I’m the team. Come on.”
He doesn’t move. You start tugging harder.
Sam strolls by and claps Bucky on the back. “Dance with her, man. Don’t be cruel.”
“Fuck off, Wilson.”
You gasp. “Language!”
Bucky closes his eyes like he’s praying for patience. “You’re literally drunk.”
“And you’re boring.”
Steve almost snorts his beer out his nose.
Bucky growls. “Fine.”
You squeal in triumph. He lets you drag him to the dance floor, which is sticky and packed. The music is too loud to talk. You don’t care at all. You spin in front of him, giggling, arms up around his neck. He plants his hands firmly at your waist, holding you still.
“Stop squirming,” he yells over the music.
“Dance with me!”
“This is dancing,” he deadpans.
You pout. He tightens his grip. You lean in, voice muffled against his ear. “You smell good.”
He makes a strangled sound. “Jesus.”
You pull back enough to beam at him. He gives you a look of pure exasperation but his hands are gentle. He’s watching you carefully for signs you’re going to fall over.
You sway dramatically. “Buckyyyyy, don’t let me fall.”
“Not gonna.”
“Promise?”
He sighs. “Promise.”
You grin. You dance a few songs that way – mostly you clinging to him, occasionally trying to get him to spin you, nearly falling over, him catching you every time.
Finally he mutters something about getting water in you and starts to tug you back toward the bar. You immediately latch onto his arm.
“Bathroom first.”
He stops. “No.”
“Please,” you whine.
He rubs his temples. “Can you even go by yourself?”
“Nope!” you say cheerfully.
“Jesus Christ.”
He actually escorts you to the bathroom hallway. He’s standing outside the door waiting, arms folded, glaring at anyone who even glances at you too long.
When you come back out, you immediately grab his hand.
“Thank you,” you sing. “Best bodyguard ever.”
He sighs but doesn’t let go. You lean your head against his arm as he drags you back to the bar. Sam immediately cackles when he sees you clinging to Bucky like a koala.
“Look at you two! Married already?”
“Shut up, Sam,” Bucky growls.
You just wave at Sam happily. “Hi Sam!”
He cheers you with his glass.
Bucky maneuvers you onto a stool and shoves water at you. “Drink,” he orders. You obey, but keep one hand fisted in his sleeve.
“You’re not leaving,” you declare.
“Didn’t say I was.”
“You’re the only one I want to hang out with.”
He goes still. “…yeah?”
You nod seriously. He tries to fight it but his mouth twitches.
“Fine,” he says gruffly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You sigh happily, still holding his sleeve while you sip water. And the team watches you both, absolutely delighted, as Bucky resigns himself to being your chosen human for the rest of the night.
Bucky tries to reclaim his arm once, experimentally tugging. Your eyes immediately go wide and wounded.
“Don’t go.”
He huffs. “I’m not going anywhere. I just want my arm back.”
You tighten your grip. “No.”
He mutters something under his breath – probably a swear – but lets you have it. You beam and scoot closer on the barstool until your knees knock into his.
“See? You’re so nice.”
He sighs and rests one hand on the bar, but the other hovers protectively near your waist in case you lean too far. You lean even closer.
“You know, you’re really warm,” you whisper like it’s classified information.
“Yeah,” he says blandly.
“Like a furnace.”
“Uh-huh.”
You squint at him suspiciously. “Are you listening to me?”
He glances down at you, deadpan. “Am I ever?”
You gasp in outrage and swat his chest, nearly falling off the stool when you overbalance. He catches you immediately, his hands firm around your waist.
“Easy,” he warns.
You giggle breathlessly. “You’re so strong.”
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters.
Sam wanders past and laughs, “She’s gonna regret all of this tomorrow.”
You immediately scowl at Sam. “Don’t be mean to Bucky!”
Bucky raises an eyebrow at you. “I think he was talking about you, doll.”
You blink.
“Oh.”
Then you shrug and turn back to Bucky, patting his chest like you’re reassuring him.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”
He snorts. “Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.”
You frown at him. “Stop being mean. You’re nice. You take care of me.”
You emphasize this by petting his arm, fingers tracing the seam of his shirt. He glances at your hand, then at you.
“Can you not do that here?” he mutters, voice rough.
“Why?”
“Because you’re drunk.”
You squint at him like that’s a stupid excuse. “So?”
He sighs, rubbing his forehead. “God.”
You smile and lean into him even more, both hands on his arm now. “I like your arm,” you say, running your fingers over the metal plates. “It’s cool.”
“Stop,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t actually move you.
You look up at him, wide-eyed. “Bucky.”
“What.”
“Do you think I’m annoying?”
He groans.
“Buckyyyyy.”
“No,” he admits reluctantly.
You immediately brighten. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he mutters, avoiding your eyes.
You grin and hug his arm tighter. “Told you you’re nice.”
He lets out a long suffering sigh but you catch the corner of his mouth twitching.
You don’t stop there. When you finish the water (which he makes you drink entirely), you demand another. He gets it for you without complaining. You thank him by resting your head on his shoulder while you drink it. He’s stiff for a second, then relaxes, shifting so you don’t slip off the stool.
You keep talking. About everything.
“You have really blue eyes. Did you know?”
“Mm.”
“I think you’d be good at painting.”
“Nope.”
“Yes you would.”
“Doll–”
“You should try it. I’d help you. We could paint together.”
He breathes out slowly. “Maybe,” he allows, just to shut you up.
You gasp. “Promise?”
“No.”
“Bucky!”
He side-eyes you, but there’s a softness there that he can’t hide.
Later you try to get off the stool to go back to the dance floor. He immediately snags your waist. “Where are you going.”
“Dancing,” you declare.
“No.”
“Come with me.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Please?”
He gives you a look.
You throw your arms around his neck right there at the bar. “Pleasepleaseplease?”
“Doll…”
You bat your eyelashes exaggeratedly. He closes his eyes and sighs. Tony, watching from the other side of the bar, is dying laughing.
Finally Bucky sighs in defeat. “Fine.”
You squeal with delight and press your face against his chest. “You’re the best,” you slur.
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters.
He lets you hang onto him all the way back to the dance floor. You’re worse this time. You keep your arms around his neck, fingers in his hair.
“Bucky.”
“What.”
“Don’t let go.”
“I’m not.”
“Ever.”
He sighs. “We’ll negotiate that later.”
You bury your face in his chest again. “Promise.”
He rubs your back, voice low. “Promise.”
You’re so content you don’t even notice the rest of the team watching you both, exchanging knowing looks. Because all you know is Bucky’s arms are warm, and safe, and he’s not letting you fall. And he’s still listening. Even if he rolls his eyes every time you open your mouth.
But eventually, Wanda and Sam approach, grinning like devils.
“Mind if we steal her?” Sam asks, voice innocent in the way it never actually is.
Bucky gives them a flat stare.
You blink up at Sam. “Steal me?”
“Yeah, c’mon, sweetheart,” Wanda says, gently prying your hands off Bucky’s shoulders. “Let’s dance.”
Bucky huffs, but you giggle and let them lead you away. He just shakes his head and retreats toward the bar like a man finally released from captivity.
Wanda and Sam keep you busy on the dance floor for a good while. Wanda spins you in easy, graceful circles. Sam hams it up, showing off ridiculous moves that make you laugh until your ribs ache. You’re warm and dizzy and happy. You shout-scream the lyrics to whatever pop song is blasting. Wanda twirls with you dramatically, both of you howling with laughter when you almost fall. Sam’s whooping and clapping like you’re in a club contest.
You forget about Bucky for a minute. But not for long.
Eventually another song ends and you’re panting, hair sticking to your forehead.
“Wanda,” you slur a little, clutching her arm. “Water.”
She laughs. “Yeah, let’s get you hydrated.”
You stumble toward the bar, Sam at your other elbow. Your eyes immediately find Bucky. Seated on a stool, long legs sprawled out, watching you with arms folded and that resting murder face that you know by now doesn’t actually mean he’s mad.
Your whole face lights up. “BUCKYYYY.”
Sam snorts. “Here we go.”
You break into a messy run-walk and practically dive at him. He startles, but reacts fast, catching you under the arms and hauling you the rest of the way onto his lap before you can faceplant. “Jesus.”
You settle right down, straddling one of his thighs without shame, arms wrapping around his neck. He’s frozen for one second. Then sighs.
“Really?” he grumbles in your ear.
You ignore him completely, beaming like you’re sun-drunk. “Hi.”
He flicks a glance at Sam and Wanda behind you. “Thanks for the break.”
Sam salutes him. “Anytime.”
Wanda just giggles and waves.
Bucky rolls his eyes and wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady. You immediately start talking.
“Bucky, they’re so much fun. Sam’s the worst dancer ever, did you know? And Wanda’s like a ballerina. She’s so pretty. She smells really good too. Like fancy witch perfume. I want perfume like that. Do you think I could pull it off?”
He gives you a look. “Breathe.”
You suck in air dramatically and keep going.
“I’m serious. I need new perfume. Or maybe lotion. My skin’s so dry. Feel it.”
You grab his flesh hand and press it to your bare shoulder. He scowls but doesn’t move it.
“Soft,” he allows grudgingly.
You beam. “See? You’re nice.”
He snorts. “Stop saying that.”
“But you are. You let me sit here.”
“Pretty sure I didn’t have a choice.”
You huff. “You always have a choice. You chose to catch me.”
He grumbles but his arm tightens around your waist. “Only so you didn’t break your damn neck.”
You grin, nose brushing his cheek. “Bestest bodyguard.”
He closes his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”
You lean back just enough to waggle your eyebrows at him. “Dance with me again.”
He actually glares. “No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Pleasepleaseplease?”
He tilts his head back with an audible ugh, but you see the corner of his mouth twitch. Sam’s watching the whole thing, laughing so hard he’s crying. Wanda’s just smiling at you both, all soft and knowing. You ignore them all and rest your forehead against Bucky’s, whispering like you’re sharing a secret: “Bucky. You’re my favorite.”
He huffs a laugh. Just one. But you hear it.
“Yeah,” he says, voice lower now, quieter. His arm flexes around you, steady and warm. “I know, doll.”
And you sigh like you’re the happiest person in the world, snuggling in closer. “You know, I think Steve could beat Sam in an arm-wrestling match but Sam would cheat. Don’t tell him I said that.”
Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You literally just said it in front of him.”
Sam, two stools over, is laughing so hard he almost spills his drink.
“Hey, that’s slander!” he yells.
You gasp dramatically and clap a hand over Bucky’s mouth. “Shhh! He’ll hear us!”
Bucky stares at you over your fingers. “Doll,” he says flatly against your palm. “I’m begging you.”
You ignore him.
“Your stubble is scratchy,” you note, pulling your hand back to rub his jaw.
He flinches just a little, eyes narrowing. “Stop.”
“Never,” you say proudly.
Clint cackles. “She’s relentless, man.”
Bucky gives him the most murderous glare he can muster while you’re actively petting his face. “Barton, go away.”
“Love you too, Barnes.”
Eventually the bartender calls last call. Steve’s already rounding everyone up like a camp counselor. “Alright, everyone. Let’s go. C’mon, up.”
You immediately wrap your arms tighter around Bucky’s neck. “No.”
Bucky groans. “Get up, doll.”
“Carry me.”
“For fuck’s sake.”
He sighs, braces a hand under your thigh, and practically lifts you off the stool. You squeal and cling tighter.
“I was kidding!”
“Too late,” he mutters, half-carrying, half-dragging you toward the door while the team hoots and hollers.
You nuzzle into his shoulder. “You’re so strong. Do you work out?”
Steve snorts so loud he chokes. Bucky closes his eyes and keeps walking. Outside the bar, the night air is crisp and cold. You shiver immediately, pressing even closer to Bucky. He sighs and drapes his leather jacket over your shoulders without even thinking about it. You make a pleased little sound. “See? Nice.”
He ignores that and starts steering you toward the cars as Steve’s calling out assignments. “Bucky, you got y/n.”
Bucky gives him a look that could kill a lesser man.
Steve just grins and slaps his shoulder. “You’re the best, Buck.”
Bucky finally manages to get you to the car. You refuse to let go of him even when he tries to buckle you in. “Sit with me.”
“I’m driving.”
“Sit with me.”
“Jesus. Let go.”
You whine but finally slump into the seat. The whole drive back you talk. And talk. And talk.
“Your car smells like you. Is that weird? I don’t think it’s weird. It’s nice.”
“Bucky, you drive really good. Like, safe. Steve drives like an old man. Sam drives like he wants to kill me.”
“Your hair is so shiny. Can I braid it now? Please?”
He just grunts noncommittally, eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel. But the other is resting on the console. You keep your hand over his the entire time.
When you get back to the compound, you refuse to get out on your own. “Carry me.”
“Walk.”
“Carry.”
He glares at you for three seconds. You give him the biggest puppy eyes you can. He caves. You squeal in triumph as he lifts you bridal style.
“Bucky. Bucky. You’re the best. I love you.”
He nearly trips. “Jesus Christ.”
You make a show of glaring. Then immediately ruin it by grinning. “Your eyes are really blue,” you whisper conspiratorially.
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned.”
“Did you know? They’re really blue.”
He’s trying not to laugh at this point. He gets you to the hallway outside your room and tries to set you down. You hold onto him tighter “No.”
He groans. “Doll. It’s your room. Go in.”
“Come with me.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Please?”
He closes his eyes. “You’ll just talk the entire time.”
“Promise.”
“...promise what? That you’ll talk?”
You nod solemnly. “Promise I’ll talk. To you. Forever.”
He snorts despite himself, shifting you in his arms. “God help me.”
“Please. Sit with me.”
He sighs. “Just for a minute,” he grumbles.
You squeal in triumph. He finally manages to deposit you on your bed, but you refuse to let go of his hand. So he sits on the edge, looming over you. You immediately tug him closer. “Lie down.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“Doll–”
“Pleasepleaseplease?”
He drops his head with a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. Finally he caves, shifting so he’s lying next to you on top of the blankets, boots still on. You immediately roll into his side, arms going around him, your face pressed to his chest.
And you don’t stop talking. Not for one second.
“You smell so good. I’m so comfy. Don’t leave. You’re my favorite. Nat’s scary. Wanda’s so pretty. Clint’s funny but so mean. Steve’s so big. Sam’s loud. You’re perfect.”
He’s silent, just staring at the ceiling, one arm around you, thumb brushing your shoulder gently.
“Bucky?”
“Hm.”
“You’re my favorite,” you whisper again.
He sighs. “Yeah, doll. I know.”
And even though you keep talking for another ten minutes, slurring and mumbling and giggling, he doesn’t move once. He just listens. Because it’s you.
Eventually you’re too warm, too squirmy, too everything. You roll halfway off Bucky’s chest with an exaggerated groan. “Hot.”
He huffs, adjusting his arm so you don’t actually fall off the bed.
“Yeah. That’s what blankets do, doll.”
You squint at him. “Take my shoes off.”
He sighs like you’re the biggest burden in the world but he sits up. “Give me your foot.”
You grin and stick your leg out like a demanding princess. He wrestles the shoe off and drops it on the floor with a thunk. “Other one.”
You giggle and present the other. When they’re both off, you flop back dramatically.
“Thanks,” you slur, batting your lashes.
“Yeah, yeah.”
You tug at your shirt. “Sticky,” you whine. “Need pajamas.”
His eyes narrow immediately. “No.”
“Buckyyyyy,” you drawl.
“Bathroom. Go.”
“Carry me.”
“For fuck’s–”
He cuts himself off and just sighs, standing. “Come on, up.”
You let him pull you up off the bed, wobbling as you try to find your balance. He steadies you with both hands.
“Bathroom,” he orders again.
You point in the wrong direction. He physically turns you the right way.
“Bathroom.”
You shuffle toward it, turning at the doorway to blink at him. “Wait there.”
He crosses his arms. “Not going anywhere.”
“Promise?”
He rolls his eyes. “Promise.”
You come back out in your soft pajama shorts and one of your ancient shirts, hair all mussed from changing.
You’re blinking sleepily but still talking. “Bucky.”
“Yeah.”
“My bed is cold.”
He snorts. “That’s what blankets are for.”
You scowl. “No. You’re warmer.”
He groans. “Doll–”
“Please?” you whine, stepping closer, your voice dropping to a pitiful slur. “Please stay? Please don’t leave. Pleasepleaseplease.”
He scrubs a hand down his face. “Jesus.”
You sniff dramatically. “You hate me.”
He actually looks pained. “Don’t start.”
“You hate me!”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
You immediately brighten. “Prove it.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose again, breathing in slowly. “How.”
“Stay,” you say simply, eyes wide and pleading.
He closes his eyes in defeat. You see the exact moment he caves.
“Fine,” he mutters. “But you’re sleeping this time.”
You let out a delighted squeal and launch at him, wrapping your arms around his middle and burying your face in his chest. He grunts at the impact but his arms come around you automatically, steady and solid and safe.
“Thank you,” you mumble into his shirt.
“Yeah.”
You tilt your head back, blinking up at him, eyes glassy from booze and exhaustion. “Bucky.”
“What.”
“I love you.”
He freezes. Your mouth keeps going before he can even react.
“Like, love love you. You’re so nice. And warm. And you listen to me. And you’re strong. And you smell good. And you have pretty eyes.”
He’s silent. You blink at him expectantly. “Bucky?”
He clears his throat roughly. “Doll–”
“I love you,” you say again, like he didn’t hear.
“Stop.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“I love you.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, jaw working. You touch his cheek with both hands. “Hey. Bucky. Look at me.”
He opens his eyes, reluctantly. You beam, sloppy and sleepy.
“Love you,” you whisper again, like it’s the biggest secret in the world.
He sighs, voice husky and low. “Yeah. I know.”
You grin and immediately lean up to kiss his cheek, missing slightly and getting the edge of his jaw instead. “Thank you,” you mumble.
“For what.”
“For staying.”
He huffs out a breath, exasperated but so gentle. “Come on.”
He guides you back to bed, steadying you so you don’t trip over your own feet. You crawl under the blankets with absolutely no grace. When he tries to stand, you immediately grab his sleeve. “No.”
He sighs.
“I’m not leaving,” he promises.
You tug harder. “Then get in.”
He hesitates. You blink at him, face scrunching, voice going quiet and wobbly. “Please?”
He mutters something like a curse under his breath. And then he does. He kicks off his boots and lowers himself next to you, carefully pulling the blanket over you both. You immediately roll into him, burying your face in his chest, arms around his ribs. You sigh so loud and happy it makes him want to laugh.
“You’re so warm,” you mumble.
“Go to sleep.”
“‘Kay.”
Silence. But only for two seconds.
“Bucky?”
He groans. “What.”
“Love you.”
He breathes in deep. Lets it out slow. His arm tightens around you.
“Yeah,” he rumbles quietly against your hair. “Love you too, doll.”
You finally go quiet after that, a smile still on your face. And he doesn’t move at all, holding you steady and safe the entire night.
--
You wake up to the soft grey light of early morning pushing in through your curtains. Your head is pounding in that unmistakable oh god I drank too much way. You squint, groaning, and immediately pull the blanket over your head to block the light. Except…
You can’t.
Because something big and heavy is in the way. You freeze. Blink. Shift your head just enough to see.
Bucky.
He’s on his side facing you, arm thrown over your waist, metal fingers splayed against your back. His other arm is bent under his head like a pillow.
He’s asleep. Actually asleep. And you’re in his arms. Very in his arms. Like – your face is smushed into his chest, one leg tangled over his.
You go perfectly still, trying to process. Then memory starts trickling back in pieces.
The bar. The dancing. Clinging to him like an octopus. Begging him to stay.
Telling him–
Oh God.
You squeeze your eyes shut in horror. You told him you loved him. Multiple times.
You want to sink into the bed and die. Your face is burning even though you’re freezing everywhere else.
Bucky stirs at your movement, brow twitching slightly, then slowly opens one eye. He blinks blearily at you. “Mm.”
You hold perfectly still, refusing to breathe. His voice is wrecked from sleep, low and husky. “Stop movin’.”
You squeak. His eyes open properly at that, focusing on you. Recognition flickers. Then amusement. “Morning.”
You immediately want to die. “Um,” you croak.
He hums, like this is the most normal thing in the world. He doesn’t let go. “Head hurt?”
You nod miserably. He smirks, barely there.
“Good. Serves you right.”
You scowl weakly, trying to shove at his chest. He doesn’t budge.
“Bucky,” you whisper harshly. “Let go.”
“No.”
Your mouth falls open. “No?”
He closes his eyes again, like he’s going back to sleep.
“Warm,” he mutters.
You’re speechless. You shift again and his arm just tightens, pulling you flush.
“Buckyyy,” you whine.
He huffs a laugh and tucks your head under his chin. You want to complain. You should complain. But he’s so warm. And you’re so hungover. And God, he smells good. So you grumble and go still.
He hums approvingly.
“Good girl.”
You freeze. He definitely smirks at that.
“Don’t say stuff like that,” you hiss, voice cracking.
“Why not?”
You open your mouth and then close it again. He snorts softly and shifts, nuzzling the top of your head in a way that makes your heart stutter.
“You remember last night?”
You shut your eyes in humiliation. “Some.”
“Yeah?”
Your voice drops to a mortified whisper. “I, um. Might’ve…said…some stuff.”
He’s silent for a second. Then his chest rumbles with a low chuckle.
“Yeah,” he says. “You did.”
You groan and hide your face in his chest. He wraps both arms fully around you.
“Stop,” you mumble. “Let me die.”
“Nope.”
You squirm. He doesn’t let go.
“Bucky, I was drunk.”
“Yeah,” he says simply. “You were.”
You glare up at him. “So you can forget it.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Not gonna.”
Your breath catches. He leans in just a little.
“Say it again.”
You go absolutely still. He’s watching you, blue eyes half-lidded, hair a mess, voice still rough with sleep.
“Say what?” you whisper.
“You know.”
Your stomach flips so hard you think you might be sick for an entirely different reason than the hangover. You swallow.
“...I love you.”
He smiles. Slow. Real.
“Good,” he rumbles, voice low.
Then he tilts his head down, brushing his nose against yours, lips ghosting over your cheek.
“Love you too, doll.”
Your heart does something physically painful in your chest. You blink up at him, wide-eyed and speechless. He just huffs a laugh and tugs you closer.
“Now shut up and go back to sleep.”
You open your mouth to argue. But you’re too warm. Too safe. And his heartbeat is steady under your ear. So you close your eyes instead, smiling helplessly. And for once, you don’t say another word.
You don’t fall back asleep. Neither does he. You’re too wired, too embarrassed, too happy, all at once. After a few minutes of lying there in silence, his arms snug around you, you peek up at him, squinting.
“Bucky.”
“Hm?” He doesn’t even open his eyes, but you can tell he’s listening.
Your voice is mortified. “I can’t believe you let me do all that last night.”
He finally cracks one eye open, lazy, amused. “‘Let you’?”
You glare weakly. “You carried me.”
He snorts. “You wouldn’t walk.”
“You put me to bed.”
“You wouldn’t shut up.”
You groan. His mouth twitches, fighting a smile.
“Don’t laugh at me,” you grumble, trying to wriggle free.
His arms tighten immediately. “Nope.”
“Bucky!” You stop moving. Your face is burning. “...I was so annoying.”
“Yeah,” he agrees cheerfully.
You gasp, smacking his chest with your palm. “Bucky!”
He huffs a laugh, catching your hand and pinning it to his chest, his thumb stroking over your knuckles.
“But,” he adds, voice going quiet.
You go still. He looks right at you.
“It was cute.”
Your mouth opens. Closes. “Cute?”
He nods, completely serious now. “Real cute, doll.”
You whimper and bury your face in his chest again. He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your cheek.
“Stop laughing,” you mumble.
“Can’t.”
“Bucky.”
“Hmm?”
You look up slowly.
“...I really said I love you?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Which time?”
You groan in humiliation. “Jesus Christ.”
He’s definitely smiling now.
“First when you were hugging me,” he recites, counting on his fingers with your hand still caught in his. “Second when I was trying to put you in bed. Third when I was laying with you – like twenty times.”
“Stop!”
“And fifth–”
You slap your hand over his mouth. He raises both brows at you, eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Shut up,” you beg.
He licks your palm. You shriek and yank your hand back. “BUCKY!”
He’s full-on laughing now, pulling you tight against him so you can’t escape. You squirm, shoving at him weakly.
“Ugh. I hate you.”
He leans in, nose brushing your cheek. “Liar.”
You go still at that, swallowing. He lowers his voice, brushing his lips along your jaw.
“You love me.”
Your breath hitches.
“Say it,” he murmurs.
You glare at him. “No.”
He smirks. “Say it.”
“No.”
He shifts, rolling you onto your back gently, leaning over you with his hair falling in his face. His voice drops to something even softer. “Please.”
Your heart hurts. You swallow hard, looking up at him. “I love you.”
His eyes go all warm and bright.
“Yeah?” he breathes.
“Yeah,” you whisper.
He dips down and kisses you. Slow. Gentle. Like he’s got all the time in the world. When he pulls back, you’re breathless. He presses his forehead to yours.
“I love you too,” he murmurs.
You squirm under him, embarrassed and delighted all at once.
“Stop saying it,” you mumble, but you’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.
“Not gonna,” he says smugly.
“Bucky.”
He nuzzles your nose. “Love you.”
“Bucky.”
“Love you.”
You’re giggling now, trying to push him away weakly. “Stop.”
He just holds you tighter, voice dropping low and certain. “Not gonna stop, doll.”
You whine but there’s no heat in it. “God, you’re so embarrassing.”
He kisses your cheek. “Love you.”
You let out a squeaky laugh. “Stop!”
He kisses your other cheek. “Love you.”
“Bucky–”
He kisses your nose. “Love you.”
You’re laughing so hard you’re wheezing, hiding your face in his shoulder. He wraps you up, burying his face in your hair, voice muffled but so, so warm.
“Love you,” he whispers one last time.
And you finally sigh, melting into him completely.
“...yeah. I love you too.”
He just hums in satisfaction, holding you like he’ll never let go.
Eventually, after way too long tangled up in bed, you groan and shove at his chest.
“Bucky. We have to get up.”
“Nope.”
“Come on.”
“Don’t wanna.”
You roll your eyes but your smile is stupidly fond. “Seriously. I need coffee. My head is killing me.”
He finally opens one eye, squinting at you.
“You okay?”
You blink at how soft his voice goes.
“Yeah,” you mumble. “Just hungover.”
He hums and shifts closer, pulling you against him again. “You were a menace last night.”
You let out a horrified whine and bury your face in his chest.
“Don’t remind me.”
He chuckles and kisses your temple. “‘Love you’ every five seconds,” he teases.
You slap his arm. “Stop!”
He grins against your hair. “Never.”
You groan again. “Coffee.”
He sighs theatrically. “Fine.”
He finally lets you go and you both drag yourselves out of bed. You’re a mess. Hair everywhere, makeup smudged from last night.
Bucky doesn’t look much better – hair sticking up, t-shirt rumpled, eyes still heavy-lidded from sleep.
You catch him watching you as you fumble for your slippers.
“What?” you grumble.
He just shakes his head, smiling. “Nothing.”
“Bucky.”
He shrugs, crossing the room to kiss you.
“You’re pretty.”
You go bright red. “Shut up,” you mutter, pushing at his chest again – but not really trying.
He just huffs a quiet laugh and keeps you close. “Come on. I’ll make your coffee.”
You finally make it down the hall toward the kitchen, his arm draped lazily around your shoulders the entire way.
You try to shrug him off once, feeling self-conscious. “People are gonna see,” you hiss.
“Good.”
“Bucky!”
He squeezes you closer, chin hooking over your head. “Let ‘em.”
You roll your eyes, but your heart does a ridiculous little flip. When you round the corner into the kitchen, of course everyone is there. They all turn at once.
Sam bursts out laughing immediately. “Look at these two.”
Nat raises one eyebrow. “Well, well. Morning, lovebirds.”
You make an embarrassing noise in the back of your throat and try to wriggle free. Bucky just holds you tighter.
“Mornin’,” he says easily, like it’s nothing.
Wanda smiles, warm and a little smug. “Rough night?”
You squeak. “Don’t–”
Bucky interrupts.
“She was fine,” he says with absolutely no shame. “Just wouldn’t stop talkin’.”
Tony snickers. Sam looks delighted. “Oh really? About what?”
Bucky shrugs, but you feel him grin against your hair.
“Everything. How much she loves me. How pretty I am. How nice I am.”
You punch his side. “Bucky Barnes, I will kill you.”
He just laughs and kisses your temple again, arm iron-tight around you.
Steve’s trying not to laugh but failing. “Glad to see you two worked things out.”
“Yeah,” Bucky says smugly. “Worked it out real good.”
You groan, hiding your face in his chest. “God, just give me coffee.”
“Already on it, doll,” he murmurs, steering you gently to a stool.
He actually makes it for you. Exactly how you like it. Sets it in front of you. You’re too mortified to look at anyone else, hands curled around the mug for dear life. He stands behind you the whole time, big hands rubbing slow circles on your shoulders.
You hiss at him quietly. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Being nice.”
He leans down, mouth next to your ear.
“Not gonna,” he whispers, voice low and smug.
You shiver. Tony howls laughing. “Oh my God, they’re disgusting now.”
Nat smirks.
“Finally,” Wanda says, all serene approval.
You whine again, slumping over your coffee. Bucky just chuckles and bends to kiss your hair again.
“Love you,” he says softly, but loud enough for everyone to hear.
You groan into your mug. “Bucky–”
“Love you,” he repeats, sing-song.
You peek up at him, cheeks on fire. But you can’t help it. You smile.
“...love you too,” you mumble.
He grins like he just won the world, and he doesn’t move an inch from your side for the rest of breakfast.
After breakfast – where Bucky refuses to let you have even one minute of dignity – everyone eventually wanders off to the common room to do absolutely nothing.
There’s no mission coming up. No real plans. Just a rare, lazy day off. You trail behind the others, clutching your second mug of coffee like a lifeline, eyes still half-closed.
Bucky has an arm around your waist the entire way. You try, once, to nudge him off.
“People are looking,” you hiss.
He doesn’t budge. “Good.”
“Bucky–”
He leans down to kiss your cheek mid-stride. You groan, smacking his chest.
“Stop being gross.”
He just grins, satisfied. “Not gonna.”
When you make it to the common room, there’s a whole squabble over the big sectional. Nat, Sam, and Clint are all arguing about who called the corner first. Steve is trying to play diplomat. Wanda is curled up in an armchair, looking thoroughly entertained.
Bucky ignores them all. He steers you to the couch, drops onto it like he owns the place, and then drags you down with him. You land half on top of him with an undignified oof.
“Bucky!” you whisper-shriek.
He wraps both arms around you. “Get comfy,” he says, smirking.
You struggle for half a second, embarrassed. Everyone is definitely watching.
Nat raises an eyebrow. Tony wolf-whistles. Clint snorts. Steve’s mouth twitches like he’s trying not to laugh. Wanda just smiles serenely.
“Bucky,” you hiss again.
He just tightens his grip, hooking his chin over your shoulder. “Sit still,” he rumbles, voice low.
You go quiet immediately, shivering. Which really doesn’t help your embarrassment. He notices and smirks against your neck. You elbow him lightly.
“Stop it,” you mutter.
“Stop what?”
“Being like this.”
“Like what.”
You scowl at him, but your voice goes a little weak. “All…clingy.”
His arms flex around you.
“Deal with it,” he says, completely unbothered.
Tony cackles from the other side of the couch. “Look at Barnes being a big ol’ teddy bear.”
“Shut up, Stark,” Bucky growls.
You groan and hide your face in Bucky’s chest. He laughs quietly and just holds you tighter. It’s so embarrassing at first. Any time you try to shift, he drags you back. If you try to sit up, he physically hauls you back down into his lap. If you so much as lean away, he makes this absolutely pathetic grumbling sound in his chest until you give up.
You keep hissing at him under your breath. “Stop it.”
“No.”
“People are watching.”
“Good.”
“Bucky.”
“Doll.”
Eventually…you just give up.
You melt against him, arm curling around his waist, face buried in his shirt.
He goes quiet and smug.
You can feel him smiling against your hair.
“Comfortable?” he drawls.
You grumble something incoherent.
He kisses the top of your head. “Thought so.”
After a while the movie goes on. Everyone pretends they’re not watching the two of you, but you can feel the occasional amused glance. You try not to squirm. But you don’t move away, either. His fingers start tracing lazy circles on your back.
You let out an involuntary sigh. He smirks.
“Shut up,” you mutter.
“Didn’t say anything,” he says innocently, but his fingers keep moving, soothing and warm.
Eventually you shift, squirming around until you’re properly sitting in his lap.
He raises both eyebrows. “Oh?”
You flush but lift your chin stubbornly. “Shut up.”
His hands settle on your hips like they belong there.
“Not complainin’.”
You bury your face in his neck. He hums happily. And you stay like that. Nat snarks about it at some point:
“Get a room.”
Bucky doesn’t even look at her. “Maybe we will.”
You smack his shoulder. “Bucky!”
He just laughs and nuzzles your temple. “Love you,” he murmurs.
You go still. Your heart thumps. You press closer.
“Love you too,” you mumble.
He squeezes your hips in answer.
By late afternoon you’re both hopeless. You’re giggling at everything he says. He’s got his arms completely around you, thumb brushing your waist.
You’re playing with the collar of his henley, fingers slipping under it to trace his collarbone. At one point you actually kiss his jaw, right in front of everyone.
There’s a collective groan of disgust from the team. “Oh my god, stop,” Sam begs.
“Gross,” Clint mutters.
Nat just smirks. Steve hides his smile behind his hand. Wanda is beaming. You bury your face in Bucky’s neck, mortified. He laughs and holds you even closer.
“Get used to it,” he says smugly.
Then, lower, just for you: “‘Cause I’m not lettin’ you go.”
Your heart skips. You squirm closer, pressing another kiss to his jaw.
“Good,” you whisper.
And you don’t move from his lap for the rest of the day.
Summary: One way to describe your role in every group: comedic relief. You're always joking and taking jokes, but some days it hits different. Tonight is one of those nights, and Bucky's the only one to notice.
Word Count: 4,262
Warnings: struggles with body image issues
If you had to sum up your role in a group, it would be comedic relief. You’re the funny one. The one who can dish it and take it, who can turn any moment into a joke and laugh until your stomach hurts. People love that about you. You love that about you…usually.
That’s how it’s always been. With your family, with your friends, now with the Avengers. You're the one who teases and gets teased right back. It's a rhythm you're used to, a give-and-take that feels safe. Most days, it’s even comforting – proof that you belong.
But some days…some days it hits different.
Today, you can’t figure out why your armor’s not holding up. Maybe you didn’t sleep enough. Maybe your body is just a little more sore than usual. Maybe it’s the reflection you caught in the mirror this morning when your shirt clung to your side in a way that made you wince. Or maybe it’s none of that, and you’re just tired – tired of pretending every joke doesn’t dig a little too deep sometimes.
You're not ashamed of your body. Not anymore. You’ve worked hard for it – harder than most. And yeah, you're bigger, but most of it is muscle now. That doesn't mean the voice in your head has gotten any quieter, though. The one that still sees soft where there should be hard, wide where there should be slim.
You try not to listen.
You made dinner tonight, like you do at least two nights a week. It’s your thing, and you love it. Cooking centers you. Feeding people makes you feel useful, grounded. And the team loves your food, always complimenting it.
But tonight, no one has really complimented the food. Just gone straight into the jokes.
"At this point," Sam says, plopping down on the couch with a third helping, "you might as well just open up a restaurant in the compound."
"She already does," Clint snorts, pointing at the spread. "Only difference is, the chef eats half the profits."
Laughter.
You smile. You laugh. Of course you do. You toss a fry at Clint, who catches it in his mouth and bows theatrically.
"Oh, please," you shoot back, grinning through the prickle behind your eyes. "You're just mad I make better food than your Uber Eats order ever could."
"Only 'cause you are Uber Eats," Tony chimes in, sipping his scotch. "You cook it and deliver it. Multi-talented."
The laugh you give is more breath than sound. You pick at your plate. Still full. You’re not really hungry anymore.
"Don’t encourage them, Tony," Nat says, though she’s grinning too, leaning back in her chair. "She'll start charging us."
"As she should," Steve says, glancing up from his own plate.
You glance at him hopefully, but he’s smiling, not stepping in. Wanda doesn’t say anything either. She’s sitting next to Vision, politely quiet, like she doesn’t want to interfere. Those two are normally the ones who eventually shut down the teasing, telling everyone else to cut it out while you laugh and say it’s fine.
Tonight, you wish they would.
You snort, forcing a grin. “Wow, okay, remind me not to slave away for six hours next time.”
“Six?” Sam says with a scoff. “You been marinating chicken since breakfast, don’t lie.”
"Only ‘cause she probably had a snack while she was doing it," Clint adds. "Multitasking."
Your cheeks burn. You laugh, loudly, almost on instinct. It's muscle memory at this point. Keep it going. Keep it light. Keep them from seeing that something's different tonight.
"Okay, okay," you say, waving your hands like you’re surrendering. "I get it. I’m fat and I feed you people too much. Message received."
They all laugh again – because you made it a joke. That’s how it works. That’s the script. If you say it first, it’s fine.
But God, you wish someone would tell them to stop.
You glance at Steve. He’s silent now, but still smiling.
Wanda looks like she wants to say something. But she doesn’t.
You don’t know why it’s bothering you so much tonight. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s everything.
You excuse yourself to the kitchen to “grab dessert,” hiding behind the excuse and the island counter while you blink rapidly, trying to stop the sting before anyone sees.
You take your time in the kitchen, carefully spooning the warm apple crisp into bowls even though your hands aren’t as steady as usual. It smells exactly how you wanted it to – sweet, buttery, cinnamon-laced perfection – but the usual sense of pride you feel isn’t there.
You scoop your own bowl first. Not because you’re trying to hoard it or anything, but because it's what you always do – grab yours before the rest disappear. These guys eat like they haven’t seen food in days.
Still, as soon as you walk back in with your bowl already in hand, you regret it.
“Oh, of course you got yours first,” Sam says, grinning as he reaches for a spoon. “Gotta make sure you get the biggest one, huh?”
“Gotta keep that priority list straight,” Clint adds, winking. “Food first, Avengers business second.”
Tony doesn’t even look up from his phone as he chimes in. “I’m honestly shocked you didn’t just bring the whole tray in and eat straight from it.”
You force a chuckle, handing out bowls one by one. “Please. Like I have the core strength to carry that much dessert and still dodge bullets.”
"She’s not wrong," Natasha smirks. “But hey, you do always finish first. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not scrape your plate clean.”
You smile automatically. “Well, maybe if the food wasn’t so good…”
More laughter. You want to mean the joke. You want it to feel funny. Instead, it lands flat in your own chest.
“She’s probably disappointed she can’t lick the plate this time,” Sam says with a dramatic sigh. “So sad. Tragic, even.”
“Yeah,” Clint snorts, mouth already full of dessert. “Somebody should buy her a spatula necklace or something.”
Your face is starting to hurt from smiling. You set down the empty tray and sit back down on the couch, still laughing – too loudly, too long. You don’t even know what you're laughing at anymore.
Then you glance across the room.
Bucky’s not laughing.
He’s not even smiling.
He’s looking at you.
Not in the usual amused but tired way he usually does when the team is being chaotic. No, his eyebrows are drawn in, his mouth pulled tight, like he’s watching something closely, like he’s studying you. His eyes lock onto yours the moment you look up, and you freeze for half a second.
It throws you.
You expect him to smirk, to make a joke, to roll his eyes or look away. But he just looks, steady and unreadable. You recognize that look. It’s the one he wears in a briefing when something doesn’t sit right. When he knows there’s a threat, even if no one else sees it yet.
Your stomach turns, and you don’t know why.
You flash him a quick smile, your laugh rising again to cover the silence as you look away. You don’t know what he saw. You don’t want to know.
Maybe your face cracked for a second. Maybe he noticed.
You pick up your spoon and take a big bite of the apple crisp, more for something to do than anything else. It's delicious, just like you knew it would be, but your appetite’s shot. You chew slowly as the teasing dies down and everyone gets distracted with their dessert and whatever show’s on the screen.
Still, your mind keeps circling back to that look.
That unreadable, searching, concerned look.
Why wasn’t he laughing?
Why does that make you feel both exposed and…safe?
You shake your head and dig your spoon back into the bowl. Whatever it was, it’s over now. They’ve moved on. You’ve moved on.
At least, that’s what you tell yourself.
--
Bucky didn’t think much of it at first.
Dinner with the team was always loud, chaotic, full of banter. It was part of the rhythm of the compound – shouting across the table, food being passed like a hot potato, someone always saying something outrageous that made Nat snort into her drink.
And you were always in the thick of it.
Throwing jabs, lobbing jokes like grenades, laughing the loudest. You had this way of matching Sam and Clint joke for joke, never missing a beat. You were the kind of person who gave as good as you got, and most nights, you had everyone in stitches, even him.
But tonight…something felt off.
It was subtle at first. You were still smiling, still laughing. Still doing the usual teasing. But it was softer than usual. More reactive than engaged. Like you were playing along instead of leading the charge. He noticed the way you barely touched your food, even though you’d made the whole damn dinner. That was unusual.
He chalked it up to being tired. Training had been rough that morning, and maybe you’d just worn yourself out.
But then you brought out dessert.
He was watching you when you came back into the room, balancing your own bowl and the tray like always. You served yourself first – something they always joked about – but when the comments started rolling in this time, he noticed your posture shift. Just slightly. Like your shoulders pulled in a little tighter.
It kept going.
The teasing. The jokes.
They weren’t new. Hell, Bucky himself had cracked a few in the past. And you always laughed. Always.
But this time, it wasn’t landing right. At least not for him.
You laughed at Sam’s comment about licking your plate, but it didn’t hit your eyes. And when Clint tossed out something about buying you a spatula necklace, Bucky saw the way your fingers curled just a little tighter around your spoon.
Something wasn’t right.
He stopped eating, just watching you from his seat across the room, narrowing his eyes a little.
You looked the same. Still smiling, still laughing. But Bucky wasn’t laughing.
Because now that he was watching – really watching – he saw it.
The way your smile would flicker between jokes. How your laugh sounded too bright. The way your gaze kept bouncing around the room like you were trying to keep everyone from looking too closely.
And then, just for a second, your eyes met his.
You were in the middle of a laugh – too big, too loud – and it just…stopped.
Your smile faltered. Just barely, but it did.
And you froze for a split second like a deer caught in headlights, eyes locked on his. And that was all it took.
He saw it.
Not all of it, not enough to name. But something.
Something that made his chest tighten.
He didn’t look away.
Neither did you. Not right away. But the moment stretched too long, and your smile came back, quicker this time, more practiced. You let out a half-laugh like nothing had happened, like he hadn't just seen the mask slip.
Then you looked away.
So did he, finally. But not because he believed it.
He picked up his fork again, but didn’t take another bite.
Now he couldn’t stop watching you. Not the food, not the show playing on the screen. Just you – laughing, talking, joking like always.
But the look in your eyes wouldn’t leave his mind.
And for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt something twist in his gut that he couldn’t joke his way out of.
Something was wrong.
And he was going to figure out what.
--
Dinner’s over. Dessert’s gone. The laughter has faded into low conversation and the clatter of dishes as everyone moves around the kitchen.
Normally, you’d stay.
You always do. It’s kind of a thing – if you cook, you don’t clean. It’s an unspoken rule around here. But you like hanging out in the kitchen afterward anyway. You lean against the counter, make fun of Sam for how badly he loads the dishwasher, tease Clint for sneaking leftovers into a Tupperware container like no one can see him. It’s your favorite part of the night, sometimes.
Not tonight.
Tonight, you just feel…heavy. Like every laugh you faked is still sitting in your chest, pressing down harder and harder with every passing minute.
You wait until someone drops a spoon and half the team erupts in laughter over it before you mumble, “I’m gonna go to bed. Night, guys.”
No one really hears you. Maybe one or two mutter a distracted goodnight without turning. But it’s fine. You don’t want them to look at you anyway.
You slip out unnoticed.
As soon as your door clicks shut behind you, the sting in your eyes comes back full force.
You shake your head and blink hard, lips pressed together as you pull your hoodie off. Don’t be stupid. They’re just jokes. You always joke like that. You make jokes like that.
You kick off your sweatpants and tug on your usual sleep shorts and a baggy t-shirt. It should bring comfort, but your skin still feels too tight, like you can’t quite settle into yourself tonight.
You try to tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That it’s not a big deal. That you're just being sensitive for no reason. That tomorrow it won’t hurt anymore.
But a few tears slip out anyway.
You swipe at them quickly, annoyed with yourself. “Seriously?” you whisper under your breath, like maybe you can shame yourself into toughening up. “Come on.”
You step into the bathroom and turn on the light, squinting against the brightness. You reach for your toothbrush, but your eyes catch your reflection in the mirror and…you stop.
You stare.
Not in a dramatic way. Just in that quiet, blank kind of way that sneaks up on you. Your gaze drifts down, taking everything in piece by piece – your arms, your stomach, your thighs.
You tug at your shirt, like maybe you can hide the parts that never seem to shrink, no matter how strong you get. You turn a little to the side, then regret it instantly.
Your thoughts spiral before you can stop them.
Maybe they’re right. Maybe you do eat too much. Maybe that’s what everyone sees first, no matter how hard you train. Maybe they laugh because it’s obvious. Maybe it really is weird that an Avenger looks like you. Maybe it’s pathetic that you pretend not to care when every comment sticks like a pin in your side.
You press your palms against the sink and squeeze your eyes shut, breathing out slow.
You know better. You know none of them meant anything by it. They love you. You know they do.
But tonight…it just hurts.
And you don’t know how to make it stop.
You pick up your brush and drag it through your hair slowly, the bristles catching in a few knots near the ends. You’re not even really paying attention to what you’re doing, just going through the motions, trying to focus on something other than the mess in your head. The mirror doesn’t help. You avoid looking too closely, keeping your gaze low, fixed on your hands.
Then there’s a knock.
You freeze, brush halfway through a section of hair.
Seriously?
You glance at the door, frowning. Of course. The one night you want to be left alone, someone decides to check in. You grit your teeth and set the brush down on the counter with a soft clack, sighing as you make your way over.
You pull the door open, expecting maybe Wanda or Steve with some awkward attempt at a pep talk. But it’s not either of them.
It’s Bucky.
And he’s looking at you with that same expression he wore at dinner – forehead slightly drawn, jaw tight, eyes searching your face like he’s trying to decode a puzzle he doesn’t want to get wrong.
You blink, caught off guard. “Hey,” you say, forcing a small smile. It feels tight, but you hope it passes as normal. “What’s up?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just tilts his head slightly and says, “Hey.”
There’s a pause.
You shift your weight from one foot to the other, trying to keep your tone light. “Everything okay?”
His eyes don’t leave yours. “I was gonna ask you that.”
You pause for half a second too long before nodding. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”
You smile again, a little wider this time. “Yeah, seriously. Just tired. Long day.”
Bucky doesn’t move. Doesn’t say anything for a second.
Then, softly, “You didn’t really joke much tonight.”
Your heart jumps in your chest, but you play it off with a shrug. “Didn’t really have anything good to say. You guys were on a roll.”
“And your laughs…” he continues, voice quieter now, like he’s afraid of pushing too hard but can’t stop himself, “they didn’t sound like yours. Not really.”
You feel your breath catch just slightly.
“And then when we made eye contact – you smiled, but only after it dropped for a second. And you left the kitchen before anyone else. You never do that.”
You don’t say anything.
You’re still smiling, but your lips start to tremble around the edges. Just a little. Just enough.
His eyes narrow a fraction. “Something’s wrong.”
You blink fast, willing the sting in your eyes to go away. Your throat tightens, but you keep your voice even. “I’m fine, Bucky. Really.”
But your smile is cracking.
And he sees it.
He always sees it.
His voice softens even more. “What’s going on?”
You clench your jaw. You will yourself not to cry. Not in front of him. Not over this.
But your eyes betray you.
A couple of tears slip out before you can stop them, and you swipe them away quickly, turning your face to the side.
“Hey,” Bucky says again, stepping a little closer. “Talk to me.”
You shake your head, but your shoulders are already shaking with it. You bite your lip so hard it hurts, trying to keep it in.
He doesn’t wait this time.
Bucky steps inside, gently closes the door behind him, and pulls you into his arms without another word.
And that’s it.
The dam breaks.
You don’t even try to hold it back anymore. Your arms wrap around him as your face buries into his chest, and the sobs come hard and fast. It’s not pretty or quiet – it’s all the laughter you forced out tonight, unraveling at once.
He holds you like he’s done this before.
Like he knew exactly what you needed.
One hand rubs slow, steady circles into your back, the other cradles the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just lets you cry. Just holds you.
And for once, you don’t feel like the punchline.
You just feel…held.
--
You don’t know how long you stay there.
Wrapped in his arms, pressed against his chest, crying like you haven’t let yourself cry in years. The kind of crying that leaves your body tired, wrung out and hollowed, like there’s nothing left to spill. He doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t try to shush you or ask you to explain while you’re still falling apart.
He just stays.
Solid and warm and still, like the earth refusing to move beneath your feet when everything else is shaking.
Eventually, the sobs slow. Your breathing evens out, hitching only a little as you pull in shaky breaths. Your arms are still around him. His haven’t left you.
And when you finally tilt your head back to look at him, your face blotchy and eyes red, he just brushes your hair back gently with his fingers and waits.
You swallow hard. “I’m sorry,” you mumble.
“Don’t,” he says immediately, voice low but firm. “Don’t apologize.”
You try to look away, but he catches your gaze again.
And this time, you don’t look away.
“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” you start, voice hoarse. “It was just…it was stupid. They didn’t mean anything by it.”
He doesn’t say anything. Just nods for you to keep going.
“They always joke like that. I joke like that. I started half of it anyway.” You huff a breath and shake your head. “It’s usually fine. I usually think it’s funny. But tonight, I don’t know – something just felt different. Like every single thing they said hit way harder than it should’ve.”
Your throat tightens again, and you look down at your fingers as they pick at the hem of your shirt.
“I guess I’ve just been feeling…gross lately. About myself. About my body.” You force a small, bitter laugh. “Which is dumb, because I’m strong. I know that. I work hard. I’m not some couch potato. But I’m still…bigger. And I’ve always been bigger.”
You shrug, eyes stinging again. “So when the jokes are always about how big I am or how much I eat or how fast I get to dessert or how I’m always cooking…it just – it adds up. And I can usually laugh about it, but tonight it just made me feel like…like that’s all they see.”
You sniff, swiping quickly at your eyes. “Like I’m just the fat funny friend who feeds everyone and takes the hits because I know how to make it into a joke.”
There’s silence for a second.
Then Bucky speaks, his voice quiet but steady.
“You’re not.”
You glance up at him.
“I mean it,” he says. “You’re not just the funny one. Or the cook. Or the one who can take a joke. You’re–” He breaks off, brow furrowing like he’s trying to find the right words. “You’re strong. And sharp. And yeah, you’re funny as hell. But you’re also one of the most caring people I’ve ever met. You make people feel at home. You make this place feel like more than just a mission hub.”
His eyes lock with yours again, gentle but unflinching.
“And I know you joke around a lot. But that doesn’t mean people get to treat you like a punching bag just because you can take it.”
Your eyes blur again, but this time it’s different. Warmer.
“I saw it tonight,” he adds, voice softer now. “The way your smile dropped when we looked at each other. I knew something was off. And when you left the kitchen like that…I knew it wasn’t nothing.”
You bite your lip, voice cracking. “I didn’t want anyone to know.”
He just smiles, sad and a little crooked. “I know. But I did.”
You nod slowly, and your chest gives one last shaky breath before you lean forward again – this time slower – pressing your forehead gently to his chest.
And once again, he wraps his arms around you.
And for the first time all night, you let yourself breathe.
--
You’re still pressed against him, your breathing calmer now. Your face is damp and your eyes ache, but the tears have stopped – for now. Bucky doesn’t seem in any hurry to let you go, and you’re not sure you’d want him to even if he was.
After a long, quiet stretch, you hear his voice again, soft and low above your head.
“You know I think you’re beautiful, right?”
Your heart skips a beat.
You pull back slightly to look up at him, blinking, caught off guard. “Bucky…”
“I mean it.”
You huff a weak, disbelieving laugh, half-hearted and a little tired. “Don’t say stuff like that just because I cried on your shirt.”
“I’m not,” he says firmly. His brows draw together again, that same concerned look from earlier returning. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”
You shake your head slightly, trying to smile but not quite managing it. “You don’t have to–”
“I’m serious,” he says, cutting you off gently but firmly. “You’re beautiful.”
You want to believe him. God, you want to.
But instead, all you can do is shrug a little, eyes falling away from his. “Thanks,” you mumble.
He studies you.
Then, with a quiet certainty that makes your chest ache, he says, “You don’t believe me.”
You open your mouth to argue, but no sound comes out. Because he’s right.
You want to believe it. You really do. But years and years of being the joke, the backup, the “good personality” girl – it’s hard to shake all that overnight, even when someone like Bucky Barnes is standing in front of you, telling you everything you’ve always wanted to hear.
He sees the war going on behind your eyes. He sees the doubt still sitting heavy in your chest.
So instead of pushing again, he just nods once.
“Okay,” he says simply. “Then I’ll keep telling you.”
You blink. “What?”
“I’ll keep telling you until you believe me.” His gaze doesn’t waver. “Every day, if I have to.”
Something tightens in your chest. Something vulnerable and hopeful and terrifying all at once.
“I’ll say it again and again and again,” he says. “Until you stop hearing your own voice in your head and start hearing mine instead.”
You press your lips together, swallowing hard. Your hands tighten slightly in the fabric of his shirt.
No one’s ever said that to you before.
No one’s ever offered to fight the voice in your head with you.
But Bucky does.
And somehow, just knowing that he wants to…
It makes you feel a little less alone.
----
Author's Note: Sorry for, once again, falling off the face of the earth😭 I PROMISE I am working on a "I Noticed" part 2, just thought I'd give you something else to read until then. Also sorry for coming back so angsty, I'll post a fun one next before I keep working on I Noticed pt 2!
Summary: Bucky goes on a mission to investigate a possible Hydra base, and comes back with you...who they were training to be the new Winter Soldier.
Word Count: 2,674
Warnings: self harm
You jolted awake with a sharp gasp, sitting upright in bed.
Your heart was hammering, breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. For a moment, you didn’t even know why – you couldn’t remember the nightmare clearly. It was all a blur.
But then – one image rose, sharp and vivid, slicing through the haze.
You were there again.
A cold metal room. In a chair with your arms strapped down. A needle pressing into your arm as they put a tracker under your skin.
You could still feel it.
Your chest tightened painfully.
You didn’t know if it was a forgotten memory that was real, or just your brain playing tricks on you and making something up in a nightmare. But the thought clawed at you.
If it was real – if there was a tracker – they would find you. They’d come for you.
You scrambled out of bed, legs shaky beneath you, and stumbled to the bathroom. You slammed the door shut behind you and locked it with trembling fingers.
Panic surged higher, suffocating.
You yanked open drawer after drawer, rummaging through them frantically.
“Y/n?”
A knock came a second later.
Bucky’s voice, muffled through the door. “You okay?”
You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. You kept searching, faster now.
Another knock. “What’s wrong?” His voice sounded more urgent.
You still didn’t answer. You shoved the last drawer shut and turned to the small closet.
When you opened it, you found what you were looking for.
A pair of scissors.
Without thinking, you grabbed them. The panic drowned out everything else. You couldn’t take the risk. You had to get it out.
Your hand trembled as you opened the blades and pressed them against your upper forearm – exactly where they’d placed it in the nightmare.
Then you dragged the blade through your skin.
Pain tore through you, white-hot. Blood welled up instantly.
Another knock – louder now.
“Y/n, open the door!” Bucky’s voice was sharper, commanding.
You couldn’t hear him – not really. The words blurred, distant and muted.
Tears streamed down your face. You didn’t even know when you’d started crying.
Your hands shook violently as you used your fingers to feel in the cut, desperate to find something – anything.
But there was nothing.
A sob ripped out of you. You lifted the scissors again, moving slightly higher on your arm.
Another cut. Another wave of pain. More blood.
You still couldn’t feel anything.
The knocking grew louder, faster. Bucky’s voice rose, but you couldn’t make out the words anymore.
It didn’t matter. You had to be sure. You had to.
A third cut – lower this time. Your vision swam from the tears, everything blurry.
Your fingers fumbled, slick with blood, trembling so hard you couldn’t grip the scissors anymore. They slipped from your grasp and clattered to the floor.
You gasped for air, sobbing so hard it hurt.
The knocking turned to pounding now, shaking the door.
You barely registered it.
Suddenly, your balance tipped – you hadn’t even noticed – but your hip slammed hard into the counter. You let out a choked sob and grabbed the edge, sliding down until you were sitting on the cold tile, back against the cabinet.
You could hardly see through the tears.
Then–
CRASH!
The door splintered open with a deafening crack.
You flinched and looked up, vision blurry – but even through it, you recognized him.
Bucky.
He was there in an instant, face pale with horror as he dropped to his knees beside you.
His mouth was moving fast, but you couldn’t understand a word.
You just sobbed harder.
He grabbed a towel and pressed it firmly against your bleeding arm. The pressure sent a fresh wave of agony through you and you cried out, body shaking uncontrollably.
Then – his arms wrapped around you, pulling you tightly against his chest.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” you barely heard, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “You’re safe. You’re okay.”
You couldn’t stop crying. Couldn’t stop shaking. But with every second in his arms, the crushing panic slowly, painfully began to ease.
You clung to him, gasping for air, burying your face against his chest as the sobs kept coming – until little by little, you could breathe again.
Eventually, the panic subsided enough that you were aware of where you were again.
You were still pressed against Bucky’s chest on the bathroom floor, his arms strong and steady around you. Your body still shook, but not as violently now. You could hear the sounds around you – footsteps in your room, voices.
Then you heard Bucky’s voice, low but firm.
“Bruce – get everything ready to stitch her up. Someone get supplies to clean up all the blood. Everyone else – out. Now.”
Footsteps hurried out of the room, voices fading away until it was quiet again.
You felt him shift, one arm tightening gently around you while the other steadied your head. He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes searching your face.
“Y/n,” he said softly, “what happened?”
You swallowed hard. Your voice was thin and shaky, barely more than a whisper. “I – I had a nightmare.” You stumbled over the words, your breath hitching again. “They – they put a tracker in my arm. I – I needed to…to get it out.”
Fresh tears welled up, spilling down your cheeks as the panic clawed back.
Bucky shook his head gently, reaching up to cup your face, thumb brushing away the tears. “Shh…it’s okay. You’re safe.”
He leaned in a little closer, voice low and steady. “If there was a tracker, Bruce would’ve seen it on the x-ray and MRI. We would’ve caught it. There’s nothing in there. No one is coming for you.”
You clung to those words, tears slowing a little as you took another shaky breath. Your body relaxed just a little against him.
But then the room tilted slightly – your stomach churned, and a wave of nausea and lightheadedness swept through you so fast it made your head spin.
Bucky noticed immediately. “You’re okay,” he said again, voice calm but more urgent now. “You’re just lightheaded. I’m gonna take you to med bay, get your arm stitched up, alright?”
You barely managed a nod, too dizzy to speak.
He carefully shifted his grip, taking the towel off your arm just enough to ease the pressure but leaving it pressed in place. Then, with one smooth motion, he scooped you up into his arms and rose to his feet.
You leaned against him, too weak to do anything else, eyes fluttering shut as he carried you out of the room and rushed down the hall.
When you opened your eyes again, you were in the med bay.
Bruce was already there – dressed in pajama pants and a t-shirt – but fully alert, gloves already on, a tray of supplies laid out and ready. His face was calm but focused.
Bucky carried you straight to one of the chairs and carefully set you down.
“I’ve got her,” Bruce said gently. Bucky crouched next to you, holding your free hand.
Bruce pulled the towel away, setting it aside, and quickly cleaned your arm. You winced, tears burning your eyes again.
Then Bruce picked up the needle.
No.
The panic hit hard and fast – like a punch to the chest.
The image of the nightmare flooded back – being strapped down, the needle in your arm, helpless to stop it.
A scream tore out of your throat. You yanked your arm away from Bruce and jumped off the chair, stumbling forward, but Bucky was still holding your other hand, gently but firmly so you couldn’t run.
You shook your head wildly, crying harder again. “No – no – please – don’t –”
Bucky’s arms wrapped around you again, pulling you in tight.
“Hey, hey, listen to me. You’re okay,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion but steady. “You’re not there. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
You sobbed into his chest again, gasping for air.
“You need to get your arm stitched up,” he continued softly. “I’m gonna help you through it, alright? I’ll be right here. I won’t leave you.”
It took time – his voice in your ear, gentle and patient – before you could manage a shaky nod.
“Alright,” he whispered. “Come on. Let’s get it done, then you can rest.”
He guided you back to the chair, helping you sit down again. You were still trembling, but this time, you let him hold both your hands tightly in his.
Bucky knelt right in front of you, eyes locked on yours.
“Keep your eyes on me. Right here. Just look at me.”
You nodded weakly.
Bruce began again – this time slower, more carefully.
The first prick of the needle made you cry out, body tensing – but Bucky’s hands tightened on yours.
“You’re okay,” he murmured, steady and sure. “You’re safe. I’ve got you. Almost done.”
You stared at him, tears still streaming, but you didn’t look away. His voice, his hands, his eyes – they were the only thing keeping the panic from pulling you under again.
He repeated the words over and over, soothing and constant, until finally – finally – Bruce was done.
You barely noticed when he cleaned your arm one last time and wrapped it in a clean bandage. You were too exhausted – every part of you drained and heavy.
Bucky leaned in close again. “That’s it, we’re done. You did so good. You’re safe.”
You could barely move, barely breathe. Your body swayed, so lightheaded you didn’t think you could stand.
“I’m gonna take you back to your room now,” he said softly, lifting you into his arms again with ease.
You leaned your head against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut, too tired to speak – but the sound of his heartbeat and the warmth of his hold kept you grounded.
Bucky carried you carefully through the quiet halls, cradling you close as he reached your room.
Once inside, he brought you over to your desk chair and set you down gently.
“You stay here,” he said softly, brushing some hair back from your damp face. “I’ve got you.”
You gave the smallest nod, too exhausted to do more.
A moment later, the bathroom door opened. Steve and Natasha came out, both holding buckets filled with bloody towels and rags. Their faces were grim but calm.
“All clean,” Steve said quietly, voice soft so as not to startle you.
Natasha gave you a small, reassuring smile.
Bucky gave them both a grateful look. “Thank you.”
They nodded and left the room, closing the door behind them.
Bucky exhaled slowly, then moved to your dresser. He opened a drawer and pulled out a clean T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, then came back over to you.
“Alright,” he murmured, crouching down in front of you again. “We need to get these off…I’m gonna change your clothes now, okay?”
Another small nod – that was all you could manage.
He moved slowly, carefully, never rushing. His hands were gentle as he reached for the hem of your blood-streaked shirt.
“I’m gonna lift this off now,” he said softly.
He pulled the shirt up and over your head, the fabric sticky from dried blood. You weren’t wearing a bra beneath it – but you were too far gone with exhaustion to care anymore, your body limp and barely responsive.
Bucky didn’t so much as glance – his focus stayed on taking care of you, getting you clean. He picked up the soft T-shirt and eased it over your head, guiding your arms through the sleeves, settling it over you.
“There we go,” he murmured.
Next, he knelt at your side, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you. “I’m gonna get these pants off now.”
Again – you barely nodded.
Gently, he lifted you enough to slide the waistband of your sweatpants down your hips and legs, careful of your stitched-up arm the entire time.
Then, he grabbed the clean pair of sweatpants, guiding your legs through them one by one. He lifted you again, pulling them up fully until they sat comfortably at your waist.
“You’re alright,” he whispered again, his voice the only thing keeping you grounded.
Finally, he scooped you up once more, cradling you against his chest as he carried you to the bed.
He laid you down as gently as he could, easing you into the mattress. You barely noticed – your eyes were already fluttering shut, your body completely spent.
As he started to pull the blankets over you, you opened your eyes slowly, reaching up just enough to grab his shirt, pulling on it lightly.
He paused, looking back down at you. “You want me to stay with you?”
You give a tiny nod, barely perceptible, but enough.
The mattress dips as he climbs in, careful and slow, and his arms are around you instantly. You melt into him, falling asleep before he’s even fully settled.
--
You wake slowly.
At first, it was just a haze – your body heavy, head thick and groggy, every limb feeling like it had sunk deep into the mattress overnight.
But then – little by little – the fog started to lift.
Your eyes fluttered open, the soft light of early morning filtering through the edges of your curtains.
And when your arm started to throb, it all came rushing back.
The nightmare. The panic. The bathroom. The scissors. Bucky.
Your breath hitched, chest tightening as the memories pressed in on you. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep yourself grounded.
Before the spiral could take hold, your brain finally registered the arms wrapped around you.
Bucky was still there – arms wrapped around you, tight but gentle, like he hadn’t let go all night. You slowly looked up at him, and he was already awake.
“Hey,” he said softly, voice full of concern but laced with warmth. “You’re awake.”
You blinked again, trying to focus. He looked exhausted too, but so relieved to see you awake.
He reached up, brushing your hair back gently from your face.
“How’re you feeling?”
Your throat was dry, and it took a second before you could answer – your voice hoarse and small.
“I...I don’t know.” You swallowed hard. “Tired. Sore.”
Bucky nodded, his eyes softening even more. “Yeah. You had a rough night.” He hesitated, his gaze flickering briefly down to your bandaged arm before returning to your face. “But you’re safe now, alright? You’re safe.”
You blinked back the sting in your eyes again, another wave of emotion rising up.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words catching in your throat. “I didn’t – I wasn’t – I didn’t mean to–”
“Hey.” He cut you off gently, rubbing your arm in smooth, grounding motions. His grip was warm and steady. “No. None of this was your fault. Not one second of it.”
Tears slipped down your cheeks before you could stop them, and Bucky reached up again, using his thumb to brush the tears away.
His blue eyes were steady, unwavering.
“You went through hell. And sometimes…our minds play tricks on us after something like that.” He glanced at your arm again, then back to your face. “I know how real it can feel. I’ve been there.” He wiped at a few more tears slipping down your face. “You did what you thought you had to. And you came back. That’s what matters.”
You let out a shaky breath, the tightness in your chest easing just a little under his words.
Bucky laid with you quietly for a moment, giving you space to catch your breath.
Finally, after a long pause, he spoke again, softer this time.
“Do you think you could eat a little something this morning? Doesn’t have to be much.”
You thought about it – your stomach was a tangled knot – but…maybe it would help.
“Maybe,” you whispered.
Bucky gave you a small smile.
“Alright. No rush. I’ll be right here, okay?”
You just nodded, curling into him as he pulled you closer. You rested your head on his chest, and the sound of his heartbeat against your ear was the only thing keeping you grounded.
--
Masterlist
Author's Note: hey guys I'm still alive😭 I was planning on adding more before I posted but it's been a hot minute so I figured I'd just post it now so you guys had something!! also if you want to be added to the taglist or I forgot to add you (sorry if I missed you!) just comment or let me know!!❤️
Summary: Bucky goes on a mission to investigate a possible Hydra base, and comes back with you...who they were training to be the new Winter Soldier.
Word Count: 6,948
You stirred slowly, the warmth of the blankets still cocooned around you.
Your mind was hazy, your limbs heavy with sleep. For a moment, you didn’t remember where you were.
The ceiling above you was unfamiliar. So was the softness of the mattress beneath you. And the faint morning light streaming through the blinds didn’t feel right either. You blinked, trying to clear the fog from your head.
But something twisted in your chest.
Then – your breath hitched.
Panic struck before you could stop it. Your body jolted upright, your heart suddenly thundering in your ears. You scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over the blanket as you stumbled to your feet.
You stood there, wide-eyed and shaking, the floor cold beneath your feet as your chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths.
You didn’t know where you were. You didn’t know why everything looked wrong. You couldn’t remember what had happened.
Not yet.
But then – you saw movement. A shift on the floor.
Bucky.
He was already up, having risen the second he saw you move. He stood a few feet away now, his hands out in front of him, palms up, like he didn’t want to spook you by getting too close.
His voice was soft and steady.
“Hey…hey, it’s okay.”
You stared at him, chest still heaving, brain trying to catch up.
And then…it clicked.
The room. The bed. The quiet.
Bucky.
Everything slowly came back into place.
You let out a shaky breath, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. Your eyes found his.
“Bucky…” you whispered, the word tumbling out with your exhale, the panic bleeding out with it.
And the second he heard his name, Bucky moved.
He closed the distance without hesitation and wrapped his arms around you, holding you firmly but gently, like he was anchoring you in place.
“It’s okay,” he murmured into your hair. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”
Your hands gripped the front of his t-shirt, your fingers fisting into the fabric as you pressed into his chest, your forehead resting against him.
You took a deep breath. And then another. And another.
His arms stayed around you the whole time.
You were still shaking, but less now. You could breathe again.
And you weren’t alone.
You took another deep breath, steadier this time, and leaned back just a little in Bucky’s arms. His gaze met yours immediately, patient and calm.
You swallowed, then took a small step back, your hands releasing the fabric of his shirt. The air between you felt a little clearer now, the worst of the panic gone.
“You okay?” he asked, keeping his voice soft.
You gave a small nod. “Yeah.”
His eyes searched yours for a moment longer, like he was making sure. Then he gave the faintest smile. “You want some breakfast?”
You hesitated. You weren’t really hungry. Not after waking up like that. But you knew you needed to eat. And you could tell he would make it easy, not overwhelming.
So you nodded again. “Yes.”
“Okay,” he said, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “I’ll let you get ready, then I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” you whispered.
With one last reassuring glance, he stepped toward the door. He didn’t bother picking up his pillow and blanket, just left them by the bed as he slipped out, the door closing quietly behind him.
You stood there for a beat, the room silent again. Then you took a slow, deep breath, your hands unclenching from where they had been half-curled at your sides.
You turned toward the dresser, the movement deliberate now, less shaky than before. You pulled out a different pair of sweatpants, a fresh t-shirt, and a bra. You tucked them under your arm and made your way into the bathroom.
You moved slowly, changing out of the rumpled clothes you’d slept in and pulling on the clean ones. The familiar motions were grounding – shirt over your head, arms through sleeves, tugging the waistband of the sweatpants into place. You brushed your hair with careful strokes, the bristles smoothing away the tangles, then brushed your teeth.
Each small task made you feel a little more solid. A little more like yourself.
When you stepped back into the bedroom, Bucky was already back inside, leaning casually against the dresser.
The second he saw you, he straightened.
“Ready?” he asked, voice warm.
You nodded. “Yeah.”
He smiled, then held a hand out to you.
Without hesitation, you took it, his palm steady and warm against yours, his fingers curling gently around your hand.
Hand in hand, you walked out into the hallway together. The elevator ride was smooth, Bucky standing close beside you without speaking, his presence calming without crowding you.
When the doors slid open to the kitchen floor, a wave of quiet conversation and the smell of coffee reached you. The rest of the team was already up – scattered around the kitchen and dining area. Some were sipping coffee, others eating breakfast, voices low but comfortable.
You shrank a little instinctively, your grip tightening just slightly around Bucky’s hand. He felt it instantly, giving your hand the faintest squeeze in return.
It wasn’t as bad as dinner the night before, but your chest still felt a little tight.
Bucky guided you toward the same table, his hand never leaving yours. When you reached it, he pulled out a chair for you again, just like last night.
You sat down slowly, hands resting in your lap.
Then Bucky knelt in front of you, voice low and steady. “What do you want for breakfast?”
You hesitated, unsure. You didn’t really know. Shrugging a little, you looked at him, unsure what to say.
He gave a soft smile. “How about eggs and toast?”
You nodded. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” he said easily, rising to his feet. “Be right back.”
You watched him move across the kitchen, his steps sure and unhurried. He gathered ingredients, cracked eggs into a pan, and popped slices of bread into the toaster. It didn’t take long – soon he was walking back with two plates balanced in his hands.
He set one in front of you, fluffy scrambled eggs and a golden slice of toast. Then he settled into the chair beside you with his own plate.
You picked up your fork and took a small bite. It was good. Simple and warm, yet flavorful.
Before you knew it, you’d finished the entire plate.
Bucky glanced over when you set your fork down.
“How was it?” he asked.
You met his eyes. “Good.”
His mouth tugged into a soft smile. “Good.” Then he stood, gathering both plates. “I’ll be right back.”
You watched him carry them over to the sink. He rinsed them with quiet efficiency, water running softly beneath the steady hum of conversation.
A moment later, you noticed Natasha approaching from the corner of your eye. You tensed automatically, shoulders stiffening before you could stop yourself.
But when she reached you, her tone was gentle. “Hi,” she said with a small smile. “I’m Natasha.”
You swallowed, then managed a soft, “Hi.”
She glanced toward the sink, then back at you.
“How’d you sleep last night…after Bucky came in?”
You hesitated, then answered honestly. “Good.”
Natasha’s smile grew a touch warmer. “That’s good.”
Before you could think of anything else to say, Bucky returned. Natasha gave you one more small smile, then stepped away, her movements easy and unthreatening.
Bucky slid back into the chair beside you.
“In a few minutes,” he said softly, “we’re having a meeting about the mission.”
You looked at him, listening carefully.
“Are you able to go?” he asked, voice calm and patient.
You nodded. “Yes.”
“Okay,” he said, a faint nod of approval. “But if at any point you want to leave – just let me know. Anytime.”
You gave another small nod. “Okay.”
It wasn’t long before Bucky glanced down at his watch, then looked over at you.
“You ready?” he asked quietly.
You nodded. Your stomach was a little tight again, but you didn’t want to back out. Not with him sitting right beside you.
He stood first and offering you his hand again. You slipped your fingers into his, grateful for the steady warmth of his palm as you stood.
Together, you walked through the compound – down a hallway that led to a large set of glass doors. Beyond them was a conference room you hadn’t seen before. It felt more formal than the kitchen, quieter, a little more serious.
Inside, a long table stretched down the center of the room. Tall windows lined one wall, letting in the soft light of the morning. Chairs were already pulled out, and a the rest of the team was filtering in, settling into their usual places.
Bucky led you toward the far end of the table, out of the center of attention, but with a clear view of the room. He pulled out a chair for you again – one right at the end – and sat down beside you.
You shifted in your seat, tucking your hands into your lap. Bucky stayed close but not crowding, one arm resting casually across the back of your chair, as if silently reminding you that you weren’t alone.
Steve took the chair near the front and waited until everyone was settled. Then he spoke, his voice clear but calm.
“Alright,” he began. “Thanks for getting here early. I know we’re all still catching our breath from the mission, but I wanted to go over what we know so far – and what comes next.”
The room quieted fully, all eyes on him.
Steve glanced down at a tablet in front of him, then continued.
“During the mission, we confirmed that the organization we were tracking had restarted elements of the Winter Soldier program. We didn’t know that at the time – intel pointed toward weapons development, not enhanced soldier experiments.”
Your heart skipped at the words. You could feel yourself starting to tense, your shoulders inching upward without you meaning to.
Steve kept going, steady but gentle.
“Fortunately, we were able to intercept them mid-process. One subject was saved.”
You felt it then – the attention in the room shifting subtly toward you.
Your breath caught. You tensed further, fingers curling into the fabric of your sweatpants beneath the table. You stared straight ahead, trying not to shrink in your seat.
Beside you, Bucky’s hand shifted – his fingers brushing lightly against your arm in a barely-there touch. Just enough to ground you. Just enough to remind you that you were safe here.
Steve didn’t pause long, didn’t linger on you. His tone stayed even, moving forward.
“Right now, the priority is recovery and stabilization – for both the subject and the team. Medical scans are ongoing. The compound will remain secured for the next seventy-two hours while we finish debriefs and process what we’ve recovered.”
Steve gave a brief pause, then continued.
“Mission-wise, we’ll be analyzing the data we retrieved. There may be more sites out there – we’ll need to be ready to move again if any of those leads check out.”
You glanced at Bucky out of the corner of your eye. His expression had gone sharp, thoughtful and focused in that quiet way you’d seen a few times already.
Steve’s gaze swept the room one more time.
“And as for next steps – we move slow on this one. No one rushes recovery. No one forces anything. That goes for all of us.”
You felt something loosen just slightly in your chest at those words. You weren’t being asked to stand and speak. You weren’t expected to do anything just yet.
Steve’s eyes met yours then – not hard, not demanding. Just steady, a quiet acknowledgment.
“We’re here to help. No pressure. No expectations. Just support.” Then he looked back to the rest of the team. “That’s it for now. Questions?”
A few murmured voices rose – logistics, follow-ups about the intel, details about the other potential sites. You stayed quiet, your hands still tucked into your lap.
Bucky leaned slightly closer, voice low and meant only for you. “You’re doing great,” he said softly.
You exhaled, shoulders easing just a fraction. The warmth of his voice helped more than you could say.
After a little while longer, the meeting finally wrapped up, voices quieting as Steve closed the discussion and stood. Chairs shifted as everyone began to stand and move around, gathering tablets, notes, and mugs of half-finished coffee.
Before you and Bucky could leave, Steve came around to your side of the table, his expression calm but focused.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I’d like to meet with you both for a minute. Just the three of us.”
You glanced up at Bucky, then back at Steve, giving a small nod.
Steve gestured toward a smaller room off the side of the conference room – a glass-walled space with a table and just a few chairs. Bucky gave your hand the lightest squeeze as he stood, and you followed them both into the smaller room.
The door clicked shut behind you, muting the rest of the team’s voices.
Steve set a folder on the table in front of each of you – one for you, one for Bucky, and one he kept for himself. The covers were plain, no writing on the front.
He sat across from you, leaning forward slightly, his tone still gentle. “We’ve been doing some research,” he began. “We were able to pull some more information about your life…before Hydra.”
Your heart stuttered at the words, your fingers curling slightly against the edge of the table.
Steve opened his own folder and glanced down at the first page.
“Your name is Y/N Y/L/N.”
He paused to let the words land. Then continued, telling you where you were from, your age, about your family, though he said none of they were living.
Your breath caught. It was too much – too fast. The name, the age, the words about your family – all of it slammed into you at once, and you couldn’t even hold onto a single thread.
You blinked, your pulse loud in your ears.
Steve must’ve noticed, because his gaze gentled further.
“I know this is a lot,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to overwhelm you. Everything we found is in that folder.” He nodded toward it. “You can look through it whenever you feel ready. There’s no rush.”
You managed a small nod, your throat too tight to speak.
Steve gave you a moment before continuing.
“One more thing – would it be okay if I talk with you alone for a second?”
Your eyes flicked toward Bucky, heart skipping again. He gave you a small, reassuring look, then a gentle nod.
You swallowed hard and looked back at Steve. “Okay,” you whispered.
Bucky stood, giving you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder before quietly stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him.
Steve waited until the door clicked shut, then leaned forward slightly, voice low. “I wanted to ask you about the binder you grabbed during the mission.”
Your stomach dropped instantly. You felt the color drain from your face. You knew exactly which binder he meant – the one with the photos. The one that still made your skin crawl.
“Did you ever see it, and what was in it?” he asked.
You nodded slowly, chest tightening.
The first thing out of your mouth next wasn’t about the binder itself – it was about Bucky.
“Did – did Bucky see it?”
Steve shook his head, voice steady. “No. That’s why I wanted to talk to you one-on-one about it.”
You let out a shaky breath – part relief, part nerves. Your body slumped slightly as the tension eased from your shoulders.
Steve continued, tone calm and kind.
“We’re going to keep the binder for information purposes. We may need to ask you about it at some point – but not anytime soon. And only if you feel comfortable.”
You swallowed hard, managing another nod. “Okay,” you said softly.
Steve gave you a small, reassuring smile and stood, moving toward the door.
“You’re good to go,” he said gently, holding it open for you.
You stood slowly, grabbing your folder and following him out, trying to steady your breathing.
Bucky was standing a few feet away, talking quietly with Bruce. The second you stepped out, his eyes flicked to you, and he came over immediately.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked softly, searching your expression.
You drew in a breath, your voice still small but steadier now. “Good.”
Bucky gave a small nod.
“Bruce wants to do an x-ray and MRI soon,” he said gently. “You up for it now?”
You hesitated. You didn’t want to. Not really. But it wasn’t going to get any easier waiting around, and part of you wanted to just get it over with.
You met his eyes and gave a small nod. “Yes.”
“You sure?” he asked, voice soft again.
You nodded again, a little firmer this time. “Yes.”
Bucky glanced at Bruce, who gave a small nod in return, then gestured for the two of you to follow him.
Without another word, Bucky offered his hand again, and you took it without hesitation. His grip was steady and grounding.
Together, the two of you followed Bruce down the hall toward the med bay.
The med bay was quiet when you arrived, just the soft hum of machinery filling the room. Bruce led the way in, motioning toward one of the large imaging rooms in the back.
You squeezed Bucky’s hand a little tighter without realizing it.
He glanced down, then gave your hand a soft squeeze back. “I’m right here,” he murmured.
You nodded, though your stomach was already twisting.
Bruce opened the door to the imaging room, flicking on a few lights. The equipment inside looked clinical and cold – an x-ray machine along one wall, an MRI scanner set up in the center of the room.
You froze just inside the doorway.
Bruce noticed right away and spoke gently. “We’ll start with the x-ray. Shouldn’t take long.”
He looked between you and Bucky. “You can stay with her for this part,” he told him quietly.
That helped, just a little. You didn’t move until Bucky gave your hand one more reassuring squeeze, guiding you inside with him.
Bruce showed you where to stand, positioning you carefully. Bucky stayed just out of the way but close enough that you could still see him.
The first few flashes of the x-ray were fine – loud clicks, some whirring, but it wasn’t too bad. You held still, forcing yourself to breathe, focusing on the small anchor that was Bucky’s calm presence in the corner of your eye.
When it was done, Bruce smiled softly. “Good job. That part’s finished.”
You exhaled slowly, tension bleeding from your shoulders.
But then he glanced toward the MRI machine.
“Next up is the MRI. This one’ll take a little longer. You’ll need to lay still inside the scanner for a bit. The machine’s noisy, but it won’t hurt.”
You swallowed hard, your feet rooted to the floor again.
Bucky noticed instantly, coming to your side.
“You okay?” he asked softly, voice low just for you.
You hesitated, looking at the machine again. It looked small inside.
Your throat felt dry. “I…I don’t like small spaces,” you whispered.
Bucky nodded, no judgment in his eyes – just understanding.
“You don’t have to do it alone,” he said gently. “I can stay in here with you. I’ll be right where you can see me the whole time.”
You stared at the machine again, your pulse speeding up – but you forced yourself to nod.
“Okay,” you whispered.
Bruce gave you an encouraging smile. “You’ll be wearing a headset so I can talk you through it. Just try to stay as still as you can.”
Bucky helped you get onto the table of the machine, his hand steadying your arm as you laid back.
Before the table moved in, he leaned close, his voice soft next to your ear. “Hey. Just keep looking at me. You’re not trapped. You can stop it anytime. I’ll be right here.”
You nodded, your chest still tight but your grip loosening a little.
Bruce handed you the headset and explained again that you could speak to him through it if needed. Then the table started sliding in.
The machine’s walls closed in around you. Your breath caught.
But then – your eyes found Bucky, standing just past the opening of the machine, arms folded but relaxed, gaze locked right on you.
He gave you the smallest nod – steady and calm.
You latched onto that. Onto him.
The machine started up, loud, deep noises vibrating around you – but you kept your eyes on Bucky. Every time the noise shifted or grew louder, his expression didn’t change. He stayed right there, grounding you, mouthing soft words between the sounds: You’re okay. You’ve got this. Almost done.
Seconds stretched into minutes, but having him there made it bearable. Little by little, the tightness in your chest eased. You kept breathing. You kept looking at him.
Finally, the machine whirred down and the table began to slide out.
You let out a shaky breath as your shoulders loosened.
Bucky was there instantly, helping you sit up, his hand warm at your back.
“You did great,” he said softly. “That’s the hard part done.”
You sagged a little in relief, leaning just slightly into him for a moment. He didn’t pull away – just stayed close, letting you take your time.
Bruce came back in, smiling. “All done. I’ll look over everything and get back to you soon.” His tone was gentle, reassuring.
You nodded, still catching your breath.
Bucky helped you down from the table, keeping his hand steady at your back the whole way out of the room.
Once you were back in the quieter hallway, away from the machines, he turned to you, voice low. “You okay?”
You met his eyes – soft and steady, always steady. You managed a small smile this time, tired but genuine. “Yeah. Thanks.”
He smiled too, brushing his thumb lightly over your knuckles where he still held your hand. “Anytime.”
You kept walking down the hallway when Bucky glanced over at you again.
“Hey,” he said softly. “We’ve got another meeting soon. More mission stuff.”
Your stomach tensed a little, but before you could say anything, he shook his head gently.
“You don’t have to come to this one. It’s mostly debrief for the team. We’ll just be going over the bigger picture stuff.”
You nodded slowly, your shoulders relaxing a little.
“I was thinking…” he continued, his voice calm and steady, “you can either stay in your room and rest, or if you want, I can take you to the common room and put on a movie for you or something. Might help pass the time.”
You thought about it. The idea of going back to your room alone wasn’t very appealing. But a movie, even if you couldn’t fully focus on it, might at least help distract you while he was gone.
“Common room,” you said quietly.
Bucky gave a small nod, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Okay. Let’s go.”
He led you down the hall at an easy pace, his presence solid and comforting beside you. When you reached the common room, it was empty.
You let out a small breath of relief without even realizing it.
Bucky gestured toward the large couch in the middle of the room.
“Go ahead and get comfortable.”
You settled onto the couch carefully, pulling your knees up a little as he grabbed the remote. The big TV flicked to life with a soft click. Bucky started flipping through channels, glancing back at you.
“Anything you feel like watching?”
You hesitated. “I don’t know.”
He kept scrolling for a moment, then stopped on a comedy. The colors were bright, the music light and fast-paced.
“This one’s good,” he said softly. “Funny. Easy to follow.”
You gave a small nod. “Okay.”
He smiled again, then set the remote down next to you.
“Here – channel’s on this button, volume here. Just in case.”
He grabbed a soft blanket from a basket nearby and set it beside you on the couch.
“In case you want it,” he said simply.
You nodded again, the smallest hint of warmth blooming in your chest at the way he thought of everything.
Then he straightened up, giving you a reassuring look. “You need anything else?”
You shook your head. “No.”
“Okay.” His voice stayed soft. “It’ll probably be a little while – an hour, maybe two. But I’ll come right back when we’re done.”
“Okay,” you said again, voice just above a whisper.
He gave one more glance to make sure you were settled, then turned to leave.
The movie played on, bright and fast and funny – but you couldn’t really focus on it. Your mind wandered too easily. But even so…having the sounds in the background helped. It kept the room from feeling too empty.
And knowing Bucky would be back soon helped even more.
--
You jolted awake, heart racing.
Your body shot upright, stiff and tense, breath coming in shallow bursts.
Where – where were you?
Your eyes darted wildly around the room, but none of it made sense. The couch beneath you, the blanket bunched beside you, the unfamiliar walls – nothing sparked recognition.
You had no memory of falling asleep. No memory of this place. No memory of anything.
Your heart pounded harder. Every instinct in you screamed that you weren’t supposed to be here. That you needed to get out. Now.
You pushed to your feet so fast the world tilted for a second, your knees locking. But you didn’t stop.
Get out. Get out.
You spun toward the nearest doorway and bolted.
The hallway stretched ahead of you, too bright, too open, unfamiliar in every way. You sprinted down it, bare feet hitting the cold floor hard and fast, eyes scanning for an exit.
You didn’t know where you were going. You just knew that if you couldn’t find a door, you’d break a window. Whatever it took.
Your legs burned, but you kept going – pushing faster, breath ragged.
You rounded a corner – and slammed into something solid.
The impact knocked you sideways with a sharp jolt of pain. You hit the person hard enough to send them sprawling to the floor. You stumbled and hit the ground too, palms scraping against the floor as you gasped.
Your pulse spiked even higher. Enemy?
The man pushed himself up quickly, eyes wide with concern. “Hey! Are you okay?”
He reached out a hand toward you.
Panic tore through you. You scrambled backward on instinct, palms and heels skidding against the floor, eyes locked on his unfamiliar face.
No. No. No.
You scrambled to your feet before he could move any closer and took off running again, your heart slamming against your ribs.
The man shouted something behind you, but you didn’t hear it.
You took turn after turn, racing blindly through the hallways, your vision tunneling. Everything blurred together – walls, doors, lights, none of it familiar.
Then – a staircase.
You spotted it and ran for it, barely slowing as you shoved the door open and took the steps two at a time. Down, down, down, until you reached a sign that said Ground Level.
Another door. Another burst through.
You found yourself in a large garage – rows of vehicles, equipment, more space than you’d expected. You didn’t stop to look. You sprinted through, weaving between cars until a flash of daylight caught your eye.
An open overhead door. Out.
You shot toward it, legs burning, lungs raw. You burst into the sunlight, the brightness almost painful after the harsh interior lights.
Still, you didn’t stop.
The paved lot blurred beneath your feet as you kept running, past a row of buildings, past parked cars, until they thinned out. Trees replaced concrete, the world opening up.
You kept going.
The forest was patchy at first, then thicker. Your feet hit soft dirt now, your breathing ragged.
You pushed on, deeper, until the noise of the compound faded. Until there was nothing but the sound of your footfalls and the pounding of your heart.
Then – you saw it.
A creek.
Narrow and winding, cutting through the trees. The water glittered faintly in the sunlight, burbling softly over smooth stones.
You slowed.
Your chest still heaved, your muscles burned, but something about the sight of the creek made your legs falter.
You stopped at the bank, breath catching.
And somewhere – somewhere way in the back of your mind – a flicker.
A memory.
Not clear. Not sharp. But there.
You didn’t know if it was this creek or another, or how long ago it had been, or if anyone else had been with you. You didn’t know anything else.
But for a moment, you remembered peace.
Just for a second. A scrap of safety.
It was enough.
You looked around once more, scanning for threats, for anyone following. But there was nothing.
You found a nearby stump and sank down onto it, legs shaky beneath you. You stared at the water, chest still rising and falling.
You weren’t really thinking now. Not anymore. The panic had drained most of your thoughts, leaving your mind blank and your body trembling.
You just sat there. Watching the water.
--
Bucky sat near the end of the table, leaning forward with his elbows braced on his knees, listening to Steve wrap up the last points of the mission.
His mind wasn’t fully in it. Not since he'd left you in the common room. He kept glancing at the clock, already wanting to get back to you.
Then, all of a sudden, the conference room doors burst open.
Sam ran in, out of breath.
“Bucky!” he called loudly, eyes wide. “Something’s wrong with y/n!”
Bucky was on his feet before the words had fully left Sam’s mouth.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“She was sprinting – ran right into me, knocked us both down. When I reached out to help her, she scrambled back like she didn’t know me. Took off running again – fast.”
“Shit.”
Bucky’s heart hammered. His gut twisted.
Steve stood up quickly. “We need to find her.”
Tony was already at the wall console. “Jarvis – location?”
Jarvis’s calm voice filled the room.
“Miss y/n exited through the garage. She is no longer within the compound perimeter. I cannot track her anymore.”
Bucky’s stomach dropped.
“Tony – you and Sam stay here in case she comes back,” he ordered without hesitation. “Everyone else – we spread out now. Move.”
No one argued. Chairs scraped the floor as the rest of the team bolted out of the room, feet pounding down the stairs toward the garage.
--
You didn’t know how long you sat by the creek.
Time had stopped meaning anything.
The sun was lower now – warm light spilling through the trees, casting long shadows across the water.
Your legs were numb. Your hands trembled faintly in your lap.
And then–
It hit you.
Like a dam breaking.
Bucky.
Him saving you. The compound. The team. The meeting this morning. The scans. The movie–
You’d fallen asleep on the couch.
You sucked in a shaky breath as everything slammed back into place.
And then your heart plummeted.
You’d panicked. Bolted. Lost control.
And now you were God knows how far from the compound, with no idea if anyone had seen you or where they were now.
Your throat tightened.
But sitting here wasn’t going to help.
You pushed up on shaky legs, brushing dirt from your pants, and forced yourself to start walking.
Back the way you’d come – though it all looked different now.
You walked for what felt like forever, heart racing the entire way.
Finally – through a break in the trees – you saw it.
The compound in the distance.
A shaky breath left your lips. You quickened your pace, moving toward the familiar structure.
When you reached the garage entrance, it was quiet. You slipped inside, footsteps soft on the concrete.
You hadn’t made it far inside when a door opened nearby, and Tony burst out.
Relief flashed across his face.
“Hey,” he said, voice calm but watchful. “You okay?”
You nodded quickly, guilt rushing in. “Yes. I – I’m so sorry.”
Tony exhaled. “It’s okay. We’ve all been looking for you, but I’m glad you found your way back.”
He tapped his phone. “I’ll let everyone know you’re back.”
You swallowed hard and nodded again.
“Come on,” Tony added, voice softer. “You can follow me.”
You trailed him through the garage to the elevator, your hands twisting nervously in your sweatshirt sleeves.
In the conference room, he held the door open for you.
“I’m not sure where the others are right now,” Tony said, giving you a reassuring smile. “But they’ll be back soon.”
“Okay,” you whispered, voice small.
You sat down slowly in one of the chairs, nerves twisting your stomach as you waited.
--
Bucky pushed through another patch of brush, boots crunching on dry leaves. His eyes scanned every inch of the woods in front of him, heart pounding harder with each step.
It had been over an hour. An hour with no sign of you.
His stomach twisted painfully.
She’s out here somewhere, he kept telling himself. We’ll find her. We have to.
The thought of you alone – panicked, confused, not knowing where you were – was tearing him apart. He kept moving, faster now, calling your name every few minutes even though there’d been no response.
Suddenly, Jarvis’s voice came through the comms, calm but firm. “Miss y/n has returned to the compound. Mr. Stark is escorting her to the conference room. All team members, please meet back there.”
Bucky stopped in his tracks, shoulders sagging with overwhelming relief.
She’s safe.
Without another word, he turned and sprinted through the trees, back toward the compound.
--
You sat stiffly in the chair in the conference room, heart still racing.
Every time the door opened, your breath caught, hoping – praying – it would be Bucky.
The first to enter was Sam.
Your stomach twisted sharply.
A memory flashed in your mind – colliding with him in the hallway.
When he stepped in, his gaze softened when he saw you.
“Hey,” he said gently, walking over. “You okay?”
You nodded quickly. “Yes…did I–” you swallowed hard, voice shaky. “Did I run into you?”
A faint smile touched his lips. “Yeah. You got me good.”
Your face flushed. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Sam said easily, shaking his head. “I figured something wasn’t right. I’m just glad you’re back.”
Before you could respond, the door opened again. Steve walked in, giving you a reassuring nod. But your eyes flicked past him, still searching.
And then–
The door flew open once more.
Bucky.
The second he spotted you, he didn’t hesitate – he rushed across the room.
Relief washed through you so hard it made your knees weak.
You stood just as he reached you – and then you were in his arms.
He wrapped you in a tight, grounding hug, one hand smoothing over your back.
“You okay?” he asked softly, voice rough with emotion.
You nodded against his chest. “Yes. I’m so sorry,” you said, eyes welling with tears.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”
He didn’t let go right away. Neither did you.
Finally, after a long moment, he pulled back just enough to look at you, then guided you gently back to the chair. He sat right beside you, so close his shoulder brushed yours.
“What happened?” he asked quietly, concern etched in his features.
You took a breath, voice trembling slightly. “I must’ve…fallen asleep. When I woke up, I didn’t know where I was. I think I went into Winter Soldier mode…I didn’t remember anything, just that I had to get out.” You looked down at your lap. “I just ran.”
Bucky’s hand grabbed yours and squeezed it. “It’s okay,” he said firmly. “You’re back now. You’re safe. That’s what matters.”
You nodded, a lump rising in your throat. His steady grip helped anchor you.
Little by little, the rest of the team returned.
The meeting resumed, but you didn’t leave. Bucky stayed right by your side, his fingers laced through yours, grounding you through every second.
--
When the meeting finally ended, Bucky turned to you.
“What do you want to do now?” he asked gently. “Eat? Shower? Whatever you need.”
You thought for a second. “Shower,” you whispered. You needed to feel clean – reset.
“Okay.” He stood, helping you up. “I’ll walk you to your room.” I’ll wait outside the door again, alright?”
You nodded. His quiet presence was more comforting than you could ever explain.
Back in your room, he walked with you to the bathroom door. “I’ll wait outside the door again, alright?”
You took your time in the shower, letting the warm water wash away the tension, trying to steady your racing mind.
Afterward, you brushed your hair, then slipped into your pajamas from last night that were still on the floor. When you stepped out, Bucky was right there, sitting on the floor by the door.
The second he saw you, he stood. “You done?”
You nodded. “Yeah.”
“What do you wanna do now?” he asked softly.
Your stomach grumbled faintly before you could answer.
“I’m hungry,” you admitted.
Bucky smiled gently. “Okay, let’s go.”
He reached out a hand, and you took it without hesitation – following him back down the hallway toward the elevator, the warmth of his touch anchoring you with every step.
The elevator doors slid open with a quiet ding, and you followed Bucky down the hall toward the kitchen. The sound of voices and laughter grew louder with each step, warm and easy, and as you turned the corner, the entire team came into view – gathered around the long dining table, already eating, talking over each other, like it was the most normal night in the world.
Tony spotted you first.
“There they are!” he called out. “I ordered pizza.”
“Obviously,” Bucky said dryly, his eyes drifting to the counter, where at least ten pizza boxes were lined up haphazardly along the surface. He glanced down at you. “You want some?”
You nodded. “Yeah.”
He grabbed two plates off the stack and handed you one. You stepped up beside him and started scanning the open boxes.
You grabbed two slices of pepperoni and set them on your plate.
Bucky grabbed a couple slices for himself, then grabbed two cold water bottles from the fridge. He nodded toward the table, and the two of you made your way over to the only open seats – side by side at the far end.
You sat down slowly, glancing around at the table. No one asked questions. They just shifted a little to make room, a few giving you soft smiles or murmuring little greetings as you got settled.
They were all joking, laughing, eating without a care in the world – and for a second, you just sat there, silent. Watching.
You hadn’t realized how much you missed this. Not just food. Not even conversation. Just…people. Having that noise and company.
Your eyes flicked to Bucky as he handed you one of the water bottles. His shoulder was just barely brushing yours as he took a bite of his pizza.
You smiled softly to yourself and took a sip of water, the voices around you a pleasant, familiar hum.
For the first time in a long time, being surrounded didn’t feel threatening.
It felt safe.
--
Dinner slowly started to wind down, the conversation fading into soft, tired laughter and the rustle of empty plates being stacked. You’d only made it through one and a half slices before the exhaustion crept in like a heavy fog, settling behind your eyes and weighing down your limbs.
You leaned toward Bucky slightly. “I’m tired.”
He immediately looked over at you, reading your face. “Alright,” he said quietly. He stood up, taking both your plates to the trash before returning to your side. “C’mon, let’s get you upstairs.”
You followed him without a word, your steps dragging just a little more with each hallway.
As soon as you stepped into your room, you headed straight for the bed, pulling back the covers and climbing in without even turning on the light. You curled onto your side, already half asleep as Bucky stepped further into the room.
He walked over and stood beside the bed for a moment, looking down at you with a softness in his eyes. “I’m gonna shower real quick and get ready for bed, but I’ll come back and stay again, okay?.”
Your eyelids fluttered open just long enough to meet his eyes. “Okay.”
He gave you a small smile – quiet and reassuring – and you watched the door click shut behind him as he slipped out.
You didn’t know how long he was gone, but it couldn’t have been long. The next time you stirred, the door creaked open gently and Bucky padded inside, hair damp, now in a clean shirt and sweatpants.
True to his word, he walked quietly over to the floor next to your bed and laid down where he did the night before. He adjusted his pillow and looked up toward you in the dark.
“You need anything?” he asked softly.
You shook your head just a little. “No.”
“Alright. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Bucky,” you whispered.
You fell asleep quickly, the exhaustion and comfort of knowing Bucky was right there pulling you under.
--
Part 4 | Masterlist
Series Taglist: @ordelixx @capswife @muchwita @zomqiee @chonkybonky @barnesandbouquets @hanniebee33 @buckysgirl-12
Summary: When Bucky has a good dream about you, he wakes up confused - and with the best sleep he's had in years. When he continues having these soft dreams, he begins to believe that maybe he does deserve comfort, despite his messed up past.
Word Count: 9,220
Bucky didn’t remember falling asleep. One moment he was staring blankly at the ceiling of his room in the compound, the next, there was quiet. A different quiet.
He was lying in a bed. Not his own.
The sheets weren’t a deep navy blue. They were soft and rumpled, a light gray that smelled faintly of vanilla and something else – something familiar. There was no hum of the compound’s lights, no distant clang of Tony’s tech or the low murmur of the common room TV. Just stillness.
He blinked slowly, turning his head, expecting to find an explanation. But what he saw made him freeze.
You were there. Curled against him like you belonged there – like you chose to be there. Head resting gently on his chest, breath even and slow, your hand lightly curled into the fabric of his t-shirt. Your leg was slung over his like you’d done this before. Like it was natural. Like it was safe.
For a moment, he just stared.
You didn’t talk to him much. Not in a bad way – you were just quiet, like he was. But when you did speak, it was soft and easy. You didn’t tiptoe around him or treat him like a project. You gave him space. And somehow, without trying, you’d found your way into the parts of his life that felt…normal.
But this – this wasn’t normal. This wasn’t real.
And then he saw it.
His stomach twisted violently.
The metal arm. Shining silver. Red star on the shoulder.
The Winter Soldier.
Panic crawled up his throat.
He tried to move – tried to pull away – but he couldn’t. His body wouldn’t obey. His left arm, the metal one, lay at his side like dead weight. His right arm, the flesh one, was wrapped around you, and he hadn’t even realized it. He wanted to pull it back, wanted to get away before he hurt you.
The pressure built in his chest, heart hammering like a warning bell. His mind raced. He was him again. That version of himself. Cold. Weaponized. Dangerous.
Why couldn’t he move?
Why wouldn’t the dream let him move?
But then – you shifted, softly. Your hand curled tighter into his shirt. Your cheek rubbed against his chest in your sleep like you were burrowing closer. And your lips curved into the faintest smile.
Like you were happy.
With him.
Bucky’s breath stilled. The panic dulled at the edges, like someone had taken the volume knob and slowly turned it down.
You sighed. A soft, content sound. One that said, I’m safe here.
He stared at you, everything inside him slowly cracking open. The metal arm stayed still and lifeless beside him, but it didn’t matter now. You weren’t afraid.
You were still here.
He let out a slow, shaky breath, letting it all go with the exhale. The fear. The guilt. The weight. The arm still didn’t move, but it wasn’t the threat he’d imagined. Not in this moment. Not with you beside him.
Peace wasn’t something he often found – even in dreams.
But now he let it wrap around him like the warmth of the bed, the quiet of the room, the gentle rhythm of your breathing. His eyes softened, chest rising and falling with yours.
And then the dream faded.
But the calm stayed with him.
--
Bucky stirred slowly, eyes blinking open to the soft morning light filtering through his window. For once, he wasn’t jolted awake. No nightmares. No cold sweat. No tremor in his hands.
Just…rest.
He frowned at the ceiling. That was new.
He stretched slightly, joints stiff from staying in one position too long, but his body felt lighter somehow. Not in the physical sense – he still had the same weight, the same scars – but the kind of lightness that comes after real sleep. The kind that doesn’t happen often for him. Almost never.
His brows furrowed. Why?
Then – slowly – it came back to him.
The dream.
The warmth. The quiet. The feel of a body pressed to his. Your body. Head on his chest, hand holding onto his shirt, your leg tangled over his. Like you belonged there. Like he belonged there.
And the arm.
The metal one. With the red star.
He sat up too quickly, rubbing a hand down his face. The image of it all clung to his mind now – your peaceful face, that little smile in your sleep, how close you were. How it should have terrified him but didn’t – not in the end.
He didn’t know what the hell it meant.
Why you?
Why that version of him?
Why now?
Bucky exhaled slowly, trying to shove the dream to the back of his mind. Dreams didn’t mean anything. Not for him. They were scrambled echoes of memory and fear, things buried and half-processed. This was no different.
Still, his chest ached in a way he couldn’t explain.
He got out of bed and moved through the motions of his morning routine, then headed down to the kitchen.
There were already a few people scattered around the room, mugs in hand, morning voices low and mumbled. Sam leaned against the counter scrolling through his phone. Nat was picking at a muffin. And you were at the table, sipping from a light blue mug, eyes on a book with one leg tucked under you.
You looked up when he walked in. “Morning,” you said softly, offering him a little smile.
His stomach flipped.
It hit him like a punch to the gut. That smile.
Exactly like the dream.
He didn’t say anything at first, caught off guard. Your eyes lingered on him for just a second, warm and casual, like it was no big deal.
“Morning,” he mumbled, voice gruff as he moved past you.
He busied himself with pouring his coffee, pretending he didn’t feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck. Pretending the dream wasn’t clawing its way to the surface again, vivid and disorienting and suddenly way too close to real.
He took a long sip of coffee, staring blankly at the counter.
Just a dream, he told himself again.
But the sound of your soft sigh behind him, the scrape of your mug against the table as you took another sip – it sounded exactly the same.
And he couldn’t shake it.
--
The office was quiet, just the soft ticking of the wall clock and the hum of distant city traffic outside the window. Bucky sat on the familiar worn-in couch, arms crossed loosely over his chest. Dr. Raynor was scribbling something in her notebook as she usually did before looking up at him.
“So,” she said, tone casual but watchful. “How many nightmares this past week?”
Bucky opened his mouth, the number already at the front of his mind. “Uh, I think…”
He trailed off, brows drawing together.
He thought the dream a couple nights ago. About waking up without a jolt, about how calm his body felt for the first time in…God, he didn’t even know how long. It wasn’t like the other dreams – not dark or violent. But he was the Winter Soldier in it. That arm. That red star. That helplessness. That fear.
But…
Then there was you. And peace. And warmth.
He hadn’t had that. Not even in dreams.
“Bucky?”
Dr. Raynor’s voice broke into his thoughts, cutting through the silence.
He blinked, snapping his attention back to her. “Uh, sorry. I think…three.”
She nodded, jotting it down. “That’s good. Fewer than last week. Progress.”
He gave a small, vague grunt in agreement, but she was already watching him a little too closely.
“What was the pause about?”
He hesitated. He could brush it off. Say he miscounted. Change the subject. But the dream had stuck with him. Still clung to the edges of his mind the past few mornings. He was curious – about what it meant, and about what she’d think of it.
So he exhaled slowly. “I…had a different kind of dream. A couple nights ago.”
Dr. Raynor leaned back slightly, folding her hands. “Different how?”
Bucky stared down at his hands for a second before answering. “I was lying in a bed. Just…quiet. And there was someone with me. A girl.” His voice stayed even, careful. “She was laying on me. Head on my chest, hand holding my shirt, leg over mine. We were just…there. Like it was normal.”
Raynor’s expression didn’t change, but he could tell she was paying full attention now.
“I looked down, and – my arm. It was the Winter Soldier version. Silver. Red star.” He swallowed. “I panicked. I couldn’t move it. Couldn’t move at all. Thought I was gonna hurt her. But then she moved closer in her sleep. Smiled.” He paused, voice softening. “It calmed me down. I felt…okay. Even with the arm.”
Dr. Raynor hummed thoughtfully. “Did you know the girl?”
Bucky’s eyes flicked up to hers. There was a moment of hesitation, then a quiet, “No.”
She raised an eyebrow, the kind that said you’re lying and we both know it, but she didn’t press.
“Did you wake up after that?”
He shook his head. “No. Slept through the night. Woke up in the morning, and it was the best sleep I’ve had in…a long time.”
There was a pause. Then, to his surprise, Dr. Raynor smiled – a small, genuine smile.
“Well,” she said, “it sounds like your brain is trying to tell you something.”
Bucky frowned. “Like what?”
“That you deserve comfort like that. Even with your past.”
The words hit him harder than he expected – right in the chest. He sat a little straighter, caught off guard by the way those simple words landed. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
She continued gently. “You’ve spent years believing you’re not allowed to have peace. That you have to earn something you already should’ve had. And now, maybe your subconscious is finally pushing back on that.”
Bucky looked down again, lips pressed into a thin line.
“That dream wasn’t about danger. It wasn’t about control or violence or punishment. It was about being okay, even with the parts of you you’re still learning to accept.”
He didn’t respond, but something settled in him. Not quite relief. Not quite understanding. But something quieter than what he was used to.
Something like hope.
She scribbled something else down, then glanced up again. “Let it stay with you. The way that felt. Don’t dismiss it just because it didn’t scare you.”
He nodded, almost to himself.
He wouldn’t forget it.
Not the dream.
Not your smile.
And maybe, just maybe, not the feeling that – just for a moment – he was allowed to feel that safe.
--
Later that night, Bucky fell asleep without much effort – something that still felt strange, even after his conversation with Dr. Raynor earlier that day. Her words had echoed in his mind, quiet and persistent: You deserve comfort like that. Even with your past.
He didn’t quite believe it.
But somehow, his body did, because sleep pulled him under fast.
And the dream returned.
The same soft hush of a room that wasn’t his. The same tangled gray sheets. The same smell – vanilla and you.
He blinked slowly, just like last time.
Except…this time, everything was flipped.
You were still beside him – but now, on his left. Your body tucked perfectly into his side, your head nestled just below his shoulder, your hand curled into his shirt, your leg tangled with his.
But his metal arm – the Winter Soldier arm – was curled around you.
Touching you.
Holding you.
He froze.
Panic surged through him like a current.
No. No, no, no.
He looked down at the gleam of silver in the soft light, the red star glowing faintly like a warning. His mind screamed. What if it was pressing too hard? What if it locked up or jerked suddenly? What if it hurt you and he couldn’t stop it?
He tried to move it. Tried to pull away. But just like last time, the dream held him in place. The arm wouldn’t respond. It just was – still, locked in its place around you.
Bucky’s breath caught in his throat.
This wasn’t okay.
He shouldn’t be allowed to hold someone like this. Not with that arm. Not with the weight of what it had done. Not when it could still do damage.
But then – you shifted, slowly again.
You sighed softly. Peacefully. A little smile tugged at your lips as you nuzzled your face further into his chest, like you wanted to be even closer.
Like you were safe.
His panic stuttered. He blinked again, heart thudding for a different reason now.
You weren’t afraid. You didn’t recoil. You didn’t treat that arm like a threat.
You embraced it. Him.
Every bit of him.
Slowly, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His jaw unclenched. His shoulders eased down. He didn’t try to move the arm again – he didn’t want to. It was holding you. You were breathing steady, face peaceful, lips still curved with that small, content smile.
And somehow, for the second time, so was he.
He watched you quietly, letting the warmth of the moment soak into him. Letting it settle somewhere deeper than it had before. You hadn’t just tolerated the arm.
You trusted it.
Trusted him.
The room faded again. Soft and slow.
But the feeling – the comfort, the calm, the way you smiled in your sleep – it stayed.
Just like before.
--
Bucky woke with a slow inhale, the weight of sleep still clinging to his body.
But this time, he didn’t need a moment to remember.
The dream was right there, vivid and whole, waiting for him like it never left.
You, curled up against his left side. His metal arm – that arm – wrapped around you. And not by accident. Not something he couldn’t control. It was holding you. Touching you. And you didn’t flinch. You didn’t fear it.
You smiled.
He blinked up at the ceiling, jaw slack with quiet disbelief. His heart wasn’t racing. His hands weren’t clenched. There was no cold sweat or lingering tension in his spine.
Just a steady breath. A strange calm.
He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled.
He slept better than he had in years.
Maybe Dr. Raynor was right. Maybe his brain was trying to tell him something. Something he hadn’t let himself believe for a long time. Something about softness. About comfort. About…deserving it.
Even now, lying there in the soft morning light, the feeling hadn’t left him. It buzzed quietly under his skin – warm, unfamiliar. Not something he trusted yet. But not something he wanted to shake off either.
With a grunt, he sat up and went through the motions of his morning routine again and headed down to the kitchen, rubbing a hand over his face. The smell of coffee hit him as soon as he rounded the corner.
Voices filtered through the space – soft and half-awake.
Sam was at the counter again, talking to someone across the room. Natasha leaned over a bowl of cereal. And you were at the table, in the same seat as before, scrolling lazily through something on your phone. You wore a cozy sweater today, sleeves pushed up to your elbows, your mug cradled in one hand.
You looked up when you saw him, smile soft and casual.
“Morning,” you said, voice quiet but warm.
His stomach flipped.
Just like the other day.
He swallowed thickly, eyes catching on the curve of your smile. The exact one from his dream. That same relaxed expression. That same tiny upturn of your lips like you were happy to see him.
He forced his eyes away.
“Morning,” he mumbled, barely above a grumble, and headed straight to the coffee machine.
He busied himself with pouring his coffee, keeping his back to the others. But his mind wasn’t quiet.
All he could think about was that dream. The weight of your head on his shoulder. The feel of your hand against his chest. The way you smiled in your sleep like everything about that moment was safe.
He took a long sip of the coffee, letting the warmth ground him.
Bucky leaned against the counter, mug in hand, eyes fixed on absolutely nothing in particular. He was too aware of you. Of your presence. The sound of your laugh – soft and breathy – when Sam made some dumb comment. The way you sat, one leg tucked under you, like you were completely at ease here.
He wasn’t used to noticing this much.
Or rather…he wasn’t used to letting himself notice.
“Hey, Barnes,” Sam called across the kitchen, pointing a spoon at him. “You gonna just brood in the corner all morning or are you capable of eating like a normal human being?”
Bucky gave him a deadpan look over his mug. “I am eating. This is breakfast.” He raised the mug like proof.
“Coffee’s not breakfast, man,” Sam said, gesturing to the bowl of yogurt in front of him. “It’s a sad, bitter hug.”
You snorted into your drink, and Bucky’s eyes flicked over to you before he could stop himself. That sound – your laugh – was way better than whatever Sam thought was funny.
Natasha gave a dry smile, not looking up from her cereal. “Let him be. At least he’s not staring into the distance like he’s reliving war crimes again.”
“Pretty sure that’s just his face,” Sam muttered.
That earned a louder laugh from you.
Bucky took a long drink of coffee to hide the corner of his mouth twitching.
Then Steve walked in, holding a tablet. “Morning,” he greeted as he passed, setting the device on the counter. “There’s a meeting at ten. Just some info about the upcoming mission.”
“Who’s going?” Nat asked.
Steve tapped the screen. “Me, Sam, Nat, and y/n.”
You raised your brows, nodding slowly. “Cool. I haven’t had a field op in a week. I’m itching.”
Bucky’s eyes went to you again without thinking. That little grin, that spark in your eyes – it tugged at something low in his chest. You were so casual, so ready. Brave, smart, calm. Everything he felt like he had to force in himself just to function.
Then Sam, apparently unable to resist, added, “Don’t worry, Barnes. We’ll bring you back a souvenir.”
“I didn’t say I wanted one,” Bucky muttered.
“Your eyes say it. The haunted ones.”
Bucky rolled them.
You leaned a little toward Sam with a playful smile. “I think he just wants us out of the kitchen so he can mope in peace.”
Bucky looked at you, eyebrows raised, and – damn it – there was that same smile again. Not teasing. Not mocking. Just...soft. Familiar in a way that made his chest feel tight.
Like the dream again.
The red star flashed in his mind for just a second – how it had looked resting beside your head.
His grip on the mug tightened and he looked away.
“You’re all very funny,” he muttered.
Sam raised his hands in mock surrender. “We try.”
You slid out of your seat, passing close by him on your way to the sink. “Don’t worry, Bucky,” you said gently, voice just for him. “You’ll miss us when we’re gone.”
He didn't say anything. Couldn’t, really.
Because he was pretty sure he would.
--
A couple nights later, the world was green and gold.
Sunlight filtered through trees he didn’t recognize, casting dappled shadows on the path beneath his boots. A soft breeze tugged at the edge of his sleeves, carrying the scent of something fresh – flowers maybe.
It was quiet and peaceful.
Still, Bucky frowned.
He didn’t know this place.
The path curved ahead through a gentle park, benches spaced out along the edges, a few distant people walking dogs or pushing strollers. He glanced around, scanning like he always did – half instinct, half reflex.
Then he looked to his left.
And there you were.
Walking beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
No gear. No weapons. Just you, in casual clothes, looking comfortable and calm, your arms swinging gently at your sides. You didn’t say anything at first – just strolled, matching his pace, steps quiet on the pavement.
He stared, confused.
But before he could say anything, you looked up at him.
And smiled.
Not some bright, flashy grin. Just something quiet, warm, and familiar. Like you’d been here beside him the whole time and nothing about it was strange.
Then, without a word, you reached up and held his hand, lacing your fingers with his.
His metal hand. The Winter Soldier’s.
Bucky’s whole body went stiff.
His breath caught in his chest like someone had punched him.
The panic started the same way it always did – sharp, cold, immediate. That hand. That arm. He didn’t even like people walking on that side of him most of the time. Didn’t want them close to it.
But you…you hadn’t even hesitated.
You just laced your fingers through his like it was second nature.
Like it meant nothing.
Or maybe – everything.
He tried to pull away.
He couldn’t.
His feet kept walking. His body moved forward. But his hand – his metal hand – remained in yours.
And you didn’t look scared. You didn’t flinch or squeeze too tightly or act like it was anything other than his hand. Not a weapon. Not something dangerous.
Just…his.
You held it like you’d done it a hundred times before.
Like you wanted to.
And the whole time, that soft little smile stayed on your face.
He looked at you again, expecting to see some kind of shift – wariness, discomfort, anything. But all he saw was peace. Trust.
The panic in his chest twisted. Less sharp now. Still there, still curling at the edges of his thoughts, but quieter. Muffled under something heavier. Something warmer.
So he didn’t fight it.
He just…walked with you.
Fingers interlocked.
Sunlight dappling the path.
And when the dream began to fade, he didn’t want to let go.
--
Bucky woke up with the ghost of your hand still wrapped in his.
He lay there, eyes half-open, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers. But it didn’t. Just the same bland paint, same quiet hum of the AC, same everything. Except him.
He didn’t feel the same.
The dream hadn’t faded this time. It was sharp. Too sharp. The colors. The breeze. The way you looked at him. The weight of your fingers laced with his metal ones, swinging lightly between you as if you’d never thought twice about touching him like that. Holding him like that.
His left hand rested against his chest now, unmoving.
He stared at it, heart thudding a little too loud in his ears.
Usually, the panic hit him first.
Usually, there was cold sweat. A racing pulse. The instinct to get up, walk it off, ground himself.
But this time…it was different.
There was confusion, of course. Why that arm again? Why you? Why the park? Why did it feel so damn real?
But under the confusion, there was something else entirely, deeper and quieter.
Longing.
It sat in his chest like a weight, not painful, but persistent, like something had just barely brushed against a place inside him he didn’t even know was empty until it wasn’t.
You looked so happy in that dream. So peaceful. Like you wanted to be there with him. Like you didn’t care that it was that hand you were holding. Like it never mattered.
And for a moment…he let himself believe it.
He rubbed his face with his flesh hand, sighing deep into the quiet.
He wasn’t used to wanting anything like this.
Not comfort.
Not softness.
Not…you.
But now, he couldn’t un-feel it.
He stayed there for a while, lying in bed, trying to push it down – but the feeling clung stubbornly to the edges of his mind.
Eventually, he got up and got ready, heading downstairs.
The kitchen was quiet when he walked in. Just Sam, Steve, and Nat – already half-finished with breakfast, voices low, the occasional clink of spoons against bowls – the usual noise.
But you weren’t there.
And Bucky didn’t expect the disappointment that tugged at his chest.
He tried to ignore it. Shoved it down like everything else. You didn’t owe him your presence. It wasn’t like you should be here. Still, it hit harder than it should’ve.
He poured himself a cup of coffee, fingers tight around the handle, and sat at the island without saying a word. None of them pushed him. Nat gave him a polite nod. Steve offered a brief, “Morning, Buck.” Sam just nodded and kept eating.
Bucky sipped his coffee and stared at nothing, trying not to think about the park, or your hand in his, or the way it had felt like something he'd never known he needed.
Then he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen.
His spine stiffened.
Then he saw you.
Hair a little messy. Hoodie hanging over your frame. Sleep still soft around your eyes. You looked barely awake – but when your gaze found him, you smiled.
That same quiet smile.
His stomach flipped.
But this time…his chest fluttered too.
“Morning,” you said, voice a little hoarse from sleep.
“Morning,” he mumbled back, too fast, too quiet. Eyes dropping instantly to his coffee like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.
You walked over to the coffee machine and poured yourself a cup of coffee in your favorite light blue mug. Then, you turned and walked over to the island and sat down. Not in your usual spot, which would put a chair in between you two.
Right next to him.
On his left side.
By his metal arm.
His entire body tensed. Not panicked – just frozen. Every cell aware. That old instinct to shift away, to hide the arm, to make sure no one accidentally brushed against it. But he didn’t move. You didn’t seem to notice the shift in him, the tension laced through his frame.
You just sipped your coffee, then turned a little toward him.
“How’d you sleep?” you asked, casual, soft.
He blinked. Swallowed.
“…Good,” he said, forcing his voice to sound even. Normal.
You smiled a little more. “Good.”
Then…nothing.
No follow-up. No chatter.
Just you, sitting beside him, quiet and easy and not even glancing at his arm.
Bucky stared into his coffee again, heart still thudding somewhere too close to his ribs. A part of him wanted to get up, walk out, hide like he always did when things got too close. But another part just wanted to stay.
Because sitting here, next to you, felt almost like the dream.
And for the first time, that didn’t scare him.
It made him feel like maybe – just maybe – it could be real.
--
Later that day, he was back in the familiar office sitting on the worn couch. Dr. Raynor glanced down at her notepad before looking up at Bucky, her tone casual but her gaze sharp.
“So, how many nightmares this week?”
Bucky didn’t hesitate. “None.”
She blinked. Her pen paused mid-word. “None?”
He nodded once, folding his arms across his chest but not defensively – more like he didn’t know what else to do with his hands.
Dr. Raynor leaned back slightly in her chair, eyes narrowing just a bit, surprised but clearly pleased. “Well…that’s really good, Bucky.”
He gave a small nod again but said nothing. She let the silence linger for a beat before continuing.
“Any more dreams like the last one?”
There was a flicker of something behind his eyes – something warmer than his usual stormcloud gaze. He looked at the floor, just for a second. “Yeah. Two more.”
Dr. Raynor smiled slightly. “Were they the same?”
“Kind of.”
“Tell me,” she said, leaning back in her chair.
Bucky shifted in his seat, arms still crossed, eyes distant like he was watching the scenes play in his head. “The first one…we were in bed again, the same one I didn’t recognize. Laying there. Only this time, she was on the other side of me. I had my left arm around her.”
Dr. Raynor’s brows lifted slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.
“It was still the metal one,” Bucky added, quieter. “The Winter Soldier one. But she didn’t mind. She was asleep against it like it was nothing.” He paused. “Like I was just...me.”
Dr. Raynor softened but stayed quiet, giving him room.
“The second dream…” he went on, “We were walking in some park. Not one I knew. Trees everywhere, real quiet. She was on my left side again.” He took a breath, like saying it out loud was harder than he thought it would be. “Then she reached up and held my hand. The metal one.” He glanced up at Dr. Raynor. “Still the old one.”
She nodded slowly, thoughtful. “And after those dreams...you still sleep well?”
“Yeah,” he said, more firmly this time. “I wake up feeling okay. Like I’m still there, kind of.”
“That’s a good thing, Bucky. That’s progress.”
He didn’t say anything, but his posture eased just slightly.
Dr. Raynor tapped her pen against the notepad. “Do you know the girl?”
“No,” he said quickly.
She raised an eyebrow at him, the same way she had the last time. No words – just that look, skeptical and patient and knowing.
Bucky sighed, his shoulders slumping just a little. “Yes.”
Dr. Raynor nodded, unsurprised. “Have you told her about the dreams?”
He shook his head.
“Who is she?”
“She’s…a teammate,” Bucky muttered, picking at a loose thread on the seam of his jacket. “New. Doesn’t talk much, but…she’s always nice.”
Dr. Raynor hummed, a thoughtful sound. She didn’t press, just let the silence stretch until it made Bucky glance up again.
“You should think about telling her,” she said gently. “See what she thinks.”
Bucky didn’t respond. He just stared down at his hands again, frowning.
He couldn’t tell her. He knew it. Because if she heard what he dreamed – if she knew she was part of this ideal version of his broken subconscious – she’d bolt. Or worse, she’d pity him. And either would be unbearable.
So he stayed silent. And Dr. Raynor didn’t push. But he could feel her eyes on him, reading everything he wasn’t saying.
--
The next dream started in a familiar place – the in the common room of the compound, the soft glow of a movie playing quietly on the TV.
He settled into the couch, feeling the familiar weight of his metal arm resting at his side, cold but steady.
Then, he became aware of you.
On his left side again.
You were sitting close, wrapped in a blanket, the fabric pooling softly over your legs.
You didn’t look up at him this time.
Instead, you shifted slowly, leaning over until your head came to rest on his metal shoulder.
Bucky froze for a moment, but the panic didn’t rise like before. It didn’t claw at him.
Instead, a quiet calm settled through him.
He felt…comfortable. Almost warm.
He looked down at you, watching the peaceful rise and fall of your breath.
After a moment, you tilted your head just enough to glance up at him, eyes soft, the same little smile curling your lips.
Then, without a word, you turned your gaze back to the movie.
Bucky settled back into the couch, heart steady, chest lighter.
He let himself enjoy the moment – the quiet closeness, the softness of the night, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this was where he belonged.
And then the dream faded.
--
Bucky woke slowly, the edges of the dream still clinging to him like mist. For a moment, he stayed still, eyes half-closed, breathing even. The quiet hum of the compound in the early morning was a stark contrast to the gentle glow of the dream’s memory – the movie, the couch, the familiar weight of her head against his shoulder. He could almost still feel it.
He rubbed a hand down his face and stared at the ceiling, brow furrowed in thought.
He knew what it meant – at least, in the vague, half-therapeutic way that Dr. Raynor would explain it. His brain, reaching for peace. For softness. For something to hold onto when the world always felt like it was trying to push him away. It made sense, kind of. A subconscious reminder that he deserved comfort, despite everything.
But why her?
It could’ve been anyone. Some faceless, gentle figure. Or no face at all, just a blur that whispered kindness in silence. That’s what he would’ve expected. Not someone real. Not someone who existed within arm’s reach in his actual life.
Not a teammate.
He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and exhaling slowly. Maybe if he just kept moving, it’d fade. The thoughts, the dreams, the softness of it all.
He pulled on a hoodie and headed toward the kitchen.
The sounds of morning met him as he approached – soft laughter, clinking mugs, voices overlapping. Everyone was already there, it seemed. He hesitated in the hallway, only for a second, before stepping inside.
And then he saw her.
She was seated in her usual spot at the island, barefoot and cross-legged in her chair, talking to Steve about something.
His chest fluttered – sharp and uninvited.
Bucky looked away immediately, cursing silently under his breath as he made a beeline for the coffee pot.
“Morning,” she said, bright and easy, like it cost her nothing.
He didn’t look at her. Couldn’t. “Morning,” he muttered, pouring himself a cup. His hand was steady, but his stomach wasn’t.
He considered sitting. There was space next to her. She’d sat next to him just the other day – plopped down like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he wasn’t a walking museum of trauma and metal and things better left unsaid.
But he stayed standing, back leaning against the counter, eyes flickering in her direction despite himself.
She was laughing now – head tilted slightly, eyes crinkling at the corners, hands wrapped around her mug. She didn’t glance at him. Didn’t need to. She just kept being herself.
And he just kept watching her, silent and still, wondering when she’d started feeling more like home than his own bed did.
--
You’re sitting at the island, fingers curled around your warm mug, letting the easy flow of morning conversation wash over you. Sam says something that makes you chuckle, and you offer a quiet reply, but your eyes keep drifting.
You glance over toward Bucky. The moment your eyes meet, he looks away. Fast. Too fast for it to be casual.
Your smile falters, and your brows draw together just slightly.
It’s the third time this morning you’ve caught him doing that – avoiding eye contact, ducking away like the sight of you is something sharp. He hadn’t even looked at you when he walked in. Just a low, distracted “morning” with his eyes glued to the coffee pot.
And that isn’t like him. He usually at least looks at you.
Bucky's never exactly chatty, but he’ll usually give you something – an amused comment, a dry joke, even just a subtle glance that says yeah, I heard you, and that was funny. But the past week or so, it’s like a wall’s gone up. A quiet shift you can’t quite name, but you feel it all the same.
It’s in the way he keeps his distance, and how you catch him looking sometimes, only for him to immediately pretend he wasn’t.
You sip your coffee, trying not to let it get to you. Trying not to read too far into it.
Still, your mind turns over the possibility that maybe – somehow – you did something. Said something. Made him uncomfortable. You’ve gone over your recent conversations in your head more times than you’d like to admit, but there’s nothing obvious, no red flag.
And yet, the cold space between you now feels intentional.
You want to ask. You want to turn around right now and say “Hey, did I do something?” but not here. Not in front of everyone. Not while Natasha’s discussing training schedules and Sam’s recounting whatever bizarre YouTube rabbit hole he fell down last night.
So you just stay quiet.
You bring your mug back to your lips and steal one more glance toward the counter.
He’s standing there with his coffee, back straight, face unreadable. Watching the room. Watching you, maybe. You can’t tell.
And so, for now, you let it go. But the worry still lingers, curling low in your stomach.
--
The run didn’t help.
Bucky had hoped it would – the steady rhythm of his feet on pavement, the wind slicing against his skin, the silence of early afternoon. But even with his heart racing and muscles burning, his mind never quieted.
He kept thinking about you.
About the way your head felt resting against his shoulder in the dream. About how you’d smiled without looking up. About how he’d woken up with that calm still in his chest, only for it to twist into knots the moment he saw you in the kitchen.
Why you? Why not some faceless person? Why not no one at all?
He didn’t have answers. Only questions that kept piling up and looping back on themselves. The only thing he was sure of was that avoiding you hadn’t done a damn thing to fix it.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding and he stepped out into the common room, sweat cooling on his skin. His shirt stuck to his back, and his dog tags shifted with each step as he moved toward the kitchen.
Then he saw you.
You were sitting at the island again, perched on the same stool, legs tucked up, scrolling casually through your phone. A half-eaten bag of pretzels sat in front of you, one hand idly reaching inside every so often. Your expression was relaxed and unaware, until you looked up and saw him.
“Hi,” you said, your voice light, but tinged with something that sounded almost...careful.
Bucky’s eyes met yours for the briefest second. “Hi,” he mumbled, already moving past her.
He went straight to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and twisting the cap off. Cold condensation dripped down his fingers. He turned around quickly, fully intending to walk right back out.
But then–
“Hey, wait.”
His feet stopped before his brain caught up. He turned slowly, water bottle still in hand.
You were watching him now, your phone resting face-down on the counter. Your brow was creased, concern etched subtly between your eyes.
“Did I...do something?” you asked.
Bucky blinked. “What?”
You hesitated, like you hated even asking. “It just feels like you’ve been avoiding me. You haven’t really talked to me lately. Not like before.” Your voice dropped a little. “If I said or did something wrong, I’d really like to know.”
The words hit him harder than he expected.
He hadn’t realized you’d noticed. Or that you cared.
Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it again, taking a breath. “No,” he said finally, his voice rough. “You didn’t do anything.”
He could see the tension in your shoulders ease slightly, but your eyes were still searching his. Not angry, just worried.
He thought of Dr. Raynor, and what she said. You should think about telling her. See what she thinks.
He looked down at the floor, then back at you. You were still waiting, quiet and patient.
You tilted your head slightly. “Then…is something going on?”
There was a pause. A long one.
And then, before he could stop himself – before he could talk himself out of it –
“I’ve been having dreams about you.”
The words were out. Heavy, real, and hanging between you like something fragile that could shatter with a single wrong move.
Bucky kept his gaze on you, waiting for you to laugh, to recoil, to look at him like you didn’t know what to say.
But right now, he couldn’t take it back.
“Oh,” you say after a beat, eyes wide. “Are they…good dreams or bad dreams?”
Bucky feels the corner of his mouth tug upward, just slightly. “Good,” he says, then pauses. “Really good, actually.”
Your eyebrows shoot up, and you blink. “Oh.”
There’s a shift in your tone – subtle, but unmistakable. And Bucky sees the flicker of realization behind your eyes. Your posture straightens ever so slightly.
His eyes widen, and he quickly holds up both hands. “No. No – not like that.” His voice jumps a little higher than he meant it to.
Your lips press together, a small, amused line forming as you clearly try not to laugh.
Bucky groans quietly, rubbing a hand down his face. “Great,” he mutters. “Now I sound like a creep.”
“No, you don’t,” you say gently, and somehow that only makes the heat rise higher in his face.
He exhales sharply, then walks over to the island and sets his water bottle down. He leans against the counter, arms folded loosely over his chest.
“I’m gonna sound crazy either way, so I might as well just say it.”
You nod, encouraging but quiet, waiting.
“The first dream…I was laying in bed. A bed I didn’t recognize. And you were there next to me, with your…head on my chest. And your hand was holding onto my shirt, and your leg was over mine.” He paused and took a breath before continuing. “My real arm was around you, but my metal arm…it was my arm when I was the Winter Soldier.”
He glanced up at you, looking for a reaction, but you were just listening intently. So he swallows and continues.
“I freaked out. Scared I was gonna hurt you with the arm, since I was…y’know, him. But I couldn’t move. The dream wouldn’t let me. But then…you just nuzzled closer. You smiled and sighed, like you were content. Like you were safe.”
He looked back up at you, and this time, there was a little smile on your face. The same one from the dreams, which made him relax a little bit.
“The second one was the exact same. Except this time, you were on my left side. And my metal arm was around you. Still the Winter Soldier one. I was even more scared, worried that it was crushing you or that I’d hurt you. But again, I couldn’t move. But you just…curled into me again, like it was natural.”
You don’t speak, but your expression softens – eyebrows raised just enough, lips parted slightly like you want to ask something but don’t want to stop him.
“The third one was in a park I didn’t recognize. You were walking beside me, on my left again. And then you just…reached up and held my hand. The metal one. Still the Winter Soldier one. You didn’t flinch or hesitate. You just did it. Like you had before.”
Your gaze flicks to his arm for a second, then back to his face. Still, you stay quiet.
“And the last one,” he says, more quietly now, “was here. In the common room. Movie playing on the TV. You were next to me, wrapped in a blanket. You leaned on my metal soldier. The Winter Soldier one again. And I just…let it happen. I wasn’t scared. I didn’t panic. I felt…calm.”
He exhales, steadying himself. You still haven’t said anything, and he’s not sure if that’s better or worse.
“I told my therapist about them,” he admits, avoiding your eyes now, fiddling with the cap of his water bottle. “She thinks it’s my brain’s way of telling me that I deserve comfort. That I’ve earned peace after everything. That it’s okay to want something soft.”
There’s a long pause. Then he finally meets your gaze again.
“But I don’t know why it’s you in them.”
He doesn’t say it accusingly. It’s not a complaint. It’s a quiet confession – equal parts wonder and confusion. Like he’s still trying to solve a riddle his heart already understands.
And you’re still looking at him, a little wide-eyed, clearly surprised…but you’re smiling.
Not laughing. Not running.
Just smiling.
--
You don’t say anything at first.
Mostly because you’re still trying to take it all in.
Bucky Barnes – quiet, guarded, “I-don’t-do-feelings” Bucky Barnes – just told you he’s been dreaming about you. Four different times. And not nightmares or weird memory-warped missions, but soft, good dreams. Ones where you’re cuddling or holding his hand or doing…couple-y stuff.
You’re not sure what shocks you more: the fact that you’re in them, or the fact that he actually told you.
But he’s just standing there now, clearly uncomfortable, his arms crossed tight over his chest like he wants to disappear into the counter. His eyes won’t quite meet yours.
Still, you smile.
“Well…that’s new,” you say first. “But…I’m glad it’s me in them,” you say softly, voice steady. “Because you do deserve comfort. And for the record, I’m not scared of you. Or your metal arm. I’m really glad you told me.”
His eyes finally lift to yours, and even though his face doesn’t fully relax, you see the subtle flicker of relief behind his features.
“Thanks,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh...still feel kinda stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” you say, then pause before teasing lightly, “Just very bad at not looking like you’re panicking.”
That earns you the smallest smile.
You tilt your head, thinking back through what he said. “You said you didn’t recognize the bed? In the first two dreams?.”
He looks a little confused but nods. “Yeah.”
“What did it look like?”
He blinks, then shrugs, thinking. “Uh…light gray sheets. And it smelled like…vanilla.”
You blink. And then you laugh.
He looks startled. “What?”
“My sheets are gray,” you say, grinning now. “And everything I use – body wash, lotion, perfume – is vanilla-scented. Like, obnoxiously so.”
His eyebrows lift, and he actually laughs – soft and a little shy, but real.
“Oh,” he says, then clears his throat. “So, either my brain’s really good at guessing, or I’ve subconsciously memorized what you smell like.”
You pretend to consider that. “Creepy either way.”
His smile widens a bit, and he ducks his head. “Great.”
You nudge the snack bag toward him as a peace offering. “Guess you’re gonna have to keep dreaming about me now.”
He huffs a soft laugh, looking up at you through his lashes. “Yeah,” he says, quieter this time. “Maybe I will.”
And even though there's still a little awkwardness between you, it doesn't feel heavy anymore.
It feels...kind of nice. Like something new is starting to settle between the two of you – gentle, tentative, but warm.
And maybe that’s worth leaning into.
--
Fresh from the shower, your skin still slightly warm, you smooth the last bit of vanilla-scented lotion into your arms, the familiar scent wrapping around you like a soft blanket. You tug on your sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt – one of your comfiest – and run a hand through your damp hair as you walk over to your bed.
But you don’t get in.
You stop at the edge, eyes drifting over the crumpled gray sheets, the soft pillows, the blanket still a little twisted from the night before.
And all you can think about is Bucky.
He dreamed about this bed.
Your bed. Light gray sheets. Vanilla.
You tell yourself not to read into it. That maybe it didn’t mean anything. That maybe his brain just filled in blanks using details it picked up around the compound without him realizing it.
But you can’t shake the thought.
Can’t stop imagining him lying there – his broad frame stretched out under your blanket, arm around you, soft breathing in the dark. Not in a dream. Not in his head.
In real life.
You blink, startled by yourself.
Your eyebrows raise slightly, arms crossing over your chest as you frown down at the bed, telling yourself it’s time to get in.
Still, you don’t move.
You sigh, grabbing the edge of the blanket and pulling it back.
But you don’t climb in.
You just…stand there. Staring.
And then, before you can talk yourself out of it – before your brain has a chance to spiral or question – you’re moving. Feet on autopilot.
Your hand closes around the doorknob, and the next thing you know, you’re stepping quietly into the hallway. The air is cooler out here, the compound quiet and still. You don’t even stop to think about what you’re going to say when you get there.
You just start walking. Down the hall.
Toward Bucky’s room.
--
Bucky lay in bed, arms folded behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The room was dark and quiet, but his mind wouldn’t follow suit. Sleep hadn’t even crossed his mind yet – he was still replaying the conversation you two had in the kitchen, word for word. The way you smiled when he told you about the dreams. The surprise on your face. The way you’d said you were glad it was you. He could still hear your laugh when you told him his brain must be creepy or psychic.
It made something in his chest ache – in a good way, but still a little overwhelming.
So when a soft knock came at his door, he actually jumped. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Definitely not now, this late.
He swung his legs off the bed and crossed the room, cracking the door open.
And there you were.
Standing there with damp hair, dressed in sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt that hung loose over one shoulder. You looked like you were already halfway to bed – but your expression was uncertain, like you hadn’t fully thought this through.
“…Hi,” he said, confusion thick in his voice.
“Hi,” you echoed, a little hesitant.
He stared at you for a beat. “Uh…do you need something?”
You glanced up at him, then down again, then let out a small, anxious sigh. “Do you wanna sleep with me?”
Bucky’s eyes went wide.
His brain short-circuited.
You looked back up, saw his face, and your eyes went wide too, horror flooding your expression.
“No – no, not like that!” you blurted, already scrambling. “I didn’t – I mean I just thought maybe you’d…want to sleep in my room. Since you…y’know dreamed about my bed, I just thought maybe you’d want to do it.” Her eyes went even wider, which he didn’t think was possible. “Not do it, just – like – spend the night…in my room.”
You looked up at him again, face flushed with embarrassment, and honestly? You looked like you were about to turn and run.
But Bucky didn’t move. He blinked once. And then he laughed.
It started as a low chuckle, but it slipped out before he could stop it, shaking his head as he grinned down at the floor.
Your hand went to your forehead, covering your face as you laughed too, half in amusement, half in absolute mortification.
“Oh my God,” you groaned, voice muffled. “I should not have said any of that.”
But Bucky was still smiling.
You weren’t just asking for company. You were offering comfort. To him.
It was kind. And sweet. And, if he was being honest, a little brave.
“Yeah,” he said, cutting through your nervous laughter.
Your hand dropped from your forehead, eyes snapping up to meet his. “Really?”
He nodded once. “Yeah. I mean–” He scratched the back of his neck, still smiling. “If dreaming about it helps me sleep that good…I figure I might actually sleep even better if it’s real.”
You let out a soft breath – half-relief, half-surprise – and nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Cool.”
The two of you turned, heading down the hallway side by side in the quiet dim light.
After a beat, you glanced up at him. “I had no idea what I was gonna say when I knocked,” you admitted, still sounding a little breathless. “I completely butchered it.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Nah, it was memorable.”
“I walked up to your door and said, do you wanna sleep with me like I was reading off a bad rom-com script,” you deadpanned.
He grinned. “Hey, could’ve been worse. You didn’t add finger guns or a wink.”
You snorted. “Don’t tempt me, Barnes.”
He chuckled again, the sound low and easy in his chest. And somehow, walking beside you in sleepwear, both of you still recovering from the awkwardness, it didn’t feel weird or tense. Just…light.
And for the first time all night, Bucky wasn’t overthinking. He wasn’t questioning the dreams or spiraling over what they meant.
He was just walking beside you. And it felt good.
When you stepped into your room, the soft scent of vanilla hit him immediately – just like he remembered from the dream.
You walked over to the bed without hesitation and crawled in, pulling the covers back and settling under them. Bucky hesitated just a second longer, then followed.
He climbed in next to you, lying on his back. The mattress dipped under his weight, the blanket settled lightly over his chest. There was still a space between you – enough that he could feel the distance – but not enough to make it feel cold.
He stared up at the ceiling, heart beating a little faster than it probably needed to.
“…Wow,” he said quietly.
You turned your head, voice low. “What?”
He smiled, almost to himself. “This is…exactly like my dream.”
You let out a soft laugh, and he joined in, both of you breaking the tension just a little.
When he turned his head to look at you, you were already looking at him.
There was a long, quiet beat – one of those moments where neither of you really knew what came next, but neither of you wanted to move too fast either.
Then you started scooting closer. He watched you, surprised but not resisting, and when you were close enough, he lifted his flesh arm slightly – just enough of an invitation.
You curled up against him, warm and soft, resting your hand gently on his chest, your leg sliding over his like it belonged there.
He let out a slow breath, wrapping his arm around you, holding you there. Like it was natural. Like it had always been this way.
“…What about now?” you asked softly, voice muffled slightly against his t-shirt.
He looked down at you, heart squeezing tight in his chest. A small smile pulled at his lips.
“This is perfect,” he said.
You looked up at him, returning the smile – sleepy and sweet, like you were already half-relaxed just lying beside him.
And somehow, that smile of yours made something inside him go quiet in the best way.
No tension. Just peace.
You nestled in again, eyelids already heavy. “Goodnight, Bucky.”
“Goodnight,” he murmured, voice low, arm tightening around you just a little.
He stared at the ceiling for a while longer, your body warm against his side, the scent of vanilla in the air.
And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t dread falling asleep.
When it came, it came easy. And he fell asleep happy.
--
Masterlist
Author's Note: sorry for like falling off the face of the earth for a second there, I got busy😭 Part 2 of Darling and I Noticed and Part 3 of The New Winter Soldier will be coming at some point, I promise! Just wanted to give you guys something while I continue working on those!!
Summary: Bucky goes on a mission to investigate a possible Hydra base, and comes back with you...who they were training to be the new Winter Soldier.
Word Count: 5,692
You weren’t sure how long you ran for, but eventually, you made your way to a clearing where two jets were sitting.
Bucky slowed down, so you did too, walking over to the jet on the left. As you walked up, two people got out, causing you to freeze.
“It’s okay,” he said, glancing over at you before he looked at the two others. “Hey guys.”
“Hey,” they answered in unison, both letting their eyes settle on you.
Bucky dropped your hand, then stepped in front of you, putting a hand on your shoulder.
“It’s okay, they’re with me,” he said, nodding to the others behind him. “That’s Bruce on the left, and Wanda on the right. They’re gonna take you back to our compound. You’ll be safe there.”
You glanced over his shoulder, looking at Bruce and Wanda as he continued.
“They’re just gonna run some tests, make sure you’re healthy, get you settled in.”
The second you heard ‘tests’ you froze. You knew you could trust them if they were with Bucky, but you didn’t want any more people testing on you.
He noticed you freeze, then reached his other hand up to rest on your other shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. They’re not gonna hurt you. They’re here to help you – just like me.”
You looked back at Bucky, then nodded.
“Okay,” he said, stepping to the side and dropping his hands. One hand came up and rested on your lower back, guiding you to the jet where Bruce and Wanda were standing, holding out the binder to Bruce so he could take it.
“I have to go back, but I’ll be there soon, okay?”
You just looked at him again, giving him another nod before he stepped away. He looked at Bruce and Wanda, nodding once, then ran off, back towards the building you just left.
You slowly turned, facing Bruce and Wanda. Wanda was the first to speak.
“Hey, it’s okay. We’re gonna help you.”
“Yeah,” Bruce responded. “When you’re ready, we’ll get on the jet and go back to the compound.”
You looked between them for a moment, not moving, then you finally gave them a small nod.
Wanda gave you a soft smile while Bruce turned around and started walking up the ramp onto the jet. You followed, but suddenly, Wanda stopped in front of you at the bottom of the ramp, reaching out her hand to help you up.
You just stared at it.
You knew you could trust them, but you didn’t feel fully comfortable with anyone other than Bucky. So you took a half-step back, eyes flicking back up to her face.
She seemed to notice, putting her hand back down and mumbling an apology as you walked past her onto the jet.
Bruce was sitting on a bench along the left side, so you went to the right, scanning the space before sitting down carefully. Wanda sat down next to Bruce, both of them looking at you intently, but trying not to scare you.
“Are you okay?” Bruce asked. “Any injuries or pain or anything you want me to check out right now?”
You looked up at him, shaking your head before looking back down at the ground in front of you.
“Okay,” he said.
Then Wanda added, “If you need anything, just let us know.”
This time, you nodded without even looking up at them.
--
You weren’t sure how long you were in the jet, but Bruce and Wanda didn’t say anything else. Clearly, they could tell you didn’t want to talk.
The faint hum of the engines shifted beneath you, growing deeper as the jet began its descent. The vibrations under your feet changed, and your body tensed instinctively. Wanda and Bruce both stirred in their seats.
“We’re at the compound,” Bruce said gently, rising to his feet and brushing off his jacket. “We’ll head to the med bay to run a few tests, make sure you’re okay.”
You tensed again.
That word. Tests. It made your stomach twist. Your fingers dug into the edges of the bench beneath you, but Wanda had already stood, waiting patiently near the exit ramp, her expression soft.
You didn’t want to go. You wished Bucky had stayed with you. But you followed.
The landing pad was quiet when you stepped out of the jet. It was nothing like the facility you came from, but it still didn’t feel safe yet.
Bruce led the way, Wanda falling into step just behind him. No one said much. You kept your eyes low, trailing just far enough behind to feel like you had space, but close enough that you didn’t get lost in the massive halls.
And then Bruce stopped in front of a set of doors.
He pressed a button, and the doors slid open with a hiss, revealing the room beyond. White light spilled out into the hallway, cold and clinical.
Inside, you saw the machines. Medical monitors. IV poles. Chairs with straps meant for holding patients steady – not like the ones they used on you – but close enough. Too close.
Your breath caught in your throat. You stopped walking.
Wanda turned first. “Are you okay?”
You didn’t answer.
Bruce turned next. “What’s wrong?”
Still, you said nothing. You couldn’t make yourself move. Couldn’t step forward. Couldn’t speak.
They stood there quietly, watching you, trying not to pressure you. Wanda took a step forward, then stopped, not wanting to crowd you. The silence stretched.
Finally, Bruce spoke again, softer this time. “Do you need something?”
You looked up for the first time since stepping off the jet. Your lips parted, but you didn’t say anything at first. Then finally, you spoke for the first time since you left your cell.
“Bucky.”
Bruce’s eyebrows lifted, caught off guard. “Oh,” he said, nodding slowly. “Okay. We can wait until he’s back.”
Some of the tension in your chest loosened, and your arms dropped to your sides. Bruce gave you a quick, reassuring smile.
“I’ll go get things ready in there,” he said, and turned to step inside.
You looked around for a moment, then slowly sank down to the floor, sitting with your back against the wall just down the hall from the med bay. Your legs curled in and your arms wrapped around your knees. You couldn’t bring yourself to be inside that room. Not without him.
Wanda knelt briefly. “Do you want anything? Water, food, blanket?”
You shook your head.
She didn’t push. Instead, she turned and disappeared into the med bay, returning a minute later with a chair. She set it down gently near the doorway and sat, keeping her distance but not leaving you alone. Just close enough that you knew she was there.
Neither of you spoke.
You just waited.
You weren’t sure how long it would be until Bucky came back. But you could wait.
--
Time passed in quiet stillness, the only sounds the soft hum of machinery inside the med bay. You kept your knees pulled to your chest, eyes unfocused, your back pressed against the cool wall.
Then, you heard Wanda get up from her chair.
You looked up just as she stood, and she gave you a small, reassuring smile.
“The others just got back,” she said gently. “I’ll go get Bucky.”
You didn’t speak, only nodded once, and she gave you one more soft look before heading down the hallway. Her footsteps were quick but quiet, fading as she turned a corner and disappeared.
Your gaze dropped back to the floor. You didn’t know what time it was. You didn’t know how long it had been. But you knew that the only thing making your lungs work right now was the thought that he would be with you again.
You heard footsteps approaching a few minutes later, and you looked up.
Wanda rounded the corner again, and beside her was Bucky.
He was talking to her in a low voice, too quiet to make out, but something about it immediately made your chest loosen. Like everything was finally about to settle.
A few more footsteps followed behind them. Three other people – all in gear, clearly part of their team. They stopped farther down the hallway, casting quick glances toward you, curious. They didn’t come closer. Just stood there for a second, exchanged a few quiet words, and turned back around, letting you have your space.
Wanda slowed her pace, hanging back just slightly, but Bucky kept walking.
He stopped in front of you, crouching down so he was eye level. A small, familiar smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Not too wide. Just enough to tell you he was happy to see you.
“Hey,” he said softly, like he didn’t want to startle you. “Heard you didn’t wanna go in without me.”
You nodded, barely perceptible, but he noticed.
He tilted his head, his voice still soft. “You ready now?”
There was a beat of silence.
Then, finally, you spoke, barely more than a whisper. “Yeah.”
His smile widened just a little, not in a teasing way, but something more like relief. Like he’d been holding his breath waiting to hear you speak.
“Alright,” he said quietly.
He stood up and reached out a hand to you.
And this time, you didn’t hesitate. You slipped your fingers into his, letting him pull you to your feet. His hand was warm and steady, grounding you in a way nothing else had since you left that cell.
You didn’t let go.
Together, you walked toward the med bay doors – still holding his hand as you stepped inside.
The lights inside the med bay weren’t harsh, but they still felt too bright. Too much like the places they used to take you when they wanted to test what your body could survive.
The whirring of machines, the faint beep of monitors, the sterile scent in the air – it all made your skin prickle. You froze just inside the doorway, but Bucky’s hand tightened slightly in yours, not to rush you, just to remind you he was there.
Bruce was across the room, checking over a tray of tools and equipment that – thankfully – didn’t look invasive. Just simple diagnostic tools. A stethoscope, a blood pressure cuff, a thermometer. You’d been trained to notice everything in a room, and right now, you were grateful that nothing looked sharp. Nothing looked like it was meant to hurt.
Bruce turned to you with a calm expression. “You ready? We’ll just do some basic checkups,” he said. “Vitals, reflexes, stuff like that.”
Your shoulders were still tense, but you nodded faintly and let Bucky lead you to the nearest exam chair.
You hesitated before sitting. Bucky caught it, of course.
“You want me to stay right here?” he asked, voice low.
You nodded again.
He didn’t even blink. Just shifted to sit on the small stool beside the chair, keeping your hand in his.
Bruce approached slowly, movements careful. “Alright,” he said, glancing between you and Bucky. “I’m gonna take your pulse and blood pressure first.”
He waited until you nodded before stepping closer.
The cuff went around your arm, and you tried to breathe steadily, but your heart was pounding. Not because Bruce was hurting you – because he wasn’t. He was kind and respectful, didn’t even touch you until he was sure you were okay with it. But your body didn’t know the difference between this and the tests they used to run.
Bucky must have noticed the way your fingers clenched in his. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand in slow, steady circles.
“You’re doing great,” he murmured.
The cuff inflated, then deflated with a slow hiss. Bruce didn’t say anything about the reading – just nodded to himself and moved on.
He checked your temperature next, then used the stethoscope to listen to your heart and breathing. You flinched slightly when the cold metal touched your skin, but again, Bucky’s hand stayed steady in yours.
“Alright,” Bruce said after a while, stepping back and jotting something down on a tablet. “No signs of major injuries or infection. You’re underweight, and I’m guessing you haven’t had proper sleep in a while, but…you’re stable. And safe.”
That last word lingered in the air. Safe.
You didn’t quite believe it yet. But with Bucky beside you, it felt closer to the truth than it ever had.
Bruce looked at you carefully. “We can take a break here if you want. The rest can wait. No pressure.”
You looked at Bucky first. His eyes were already on you, waiting for your signal.
You gave a slow, shallow nod, then looked at Bruce. “Okay,” you whispered.
Bruce smiled, gentle. “Good. You did really well.”
He stepped away, giving you space, and Bucky turned toward you, still holding your hand.
“You alright?” he asked, voice low just for you.
You hesitated. Then gave the smallest nod.
“Yeah,” you said softly.
Bucky didn’t smile wide – just enough to reach his eyes.
“Good,” he said. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”
You took a deep breath, then nodded.
“You ready to go?”
You nodded quickly, wanting to get out of here as soon as possible. He stood at the same time you did, hand still in yours as he led you to the door. It opened with a soft hiss, and you felt your body relax a little more as you stepped out.
“Are you hungry? We can get you something to eat.”
You weren’t hungry – not really – but you knew you should eat something. You didn’t need Bruce to tell you that you were underweight, it was obvious. They had barely given you any food, and whatever they had given you wasn’t exactly filling.
But you nodded your head, looking up at Bucky as he smiled in response.
“Okay, we’ll go down to the kitchen and see what there is.”
You didn’t nod this time, just simply followed his lead as he led you toward the elevator. You stepped in, watching as he pressed a button on the panel, then were out just as quickly.
As you started down the hallway, you could hear the echo of conversations from down the hall, coming from where you were headed. You started to slow down, but Bucky already knew.
“Sounds like there’s people in there. If you want to wait somewhere else, I can bring your food to you. Or, if you go in and sit at the table, they won’t bother you.”
You finally came to a stop, right outside the doorway to the kitchen. The voices were louder now, but you knew you didn’t want to sit alone in a room somewhere, away from Bucky.
“I can go in,” you said quietly.
“Are you sure?”
You nodded, so he continued walking through the doorway, into the kitchen.
The room went quiet the second you stepped in.
Conversations tapered off mid-sentence. Heads turned. A few forks froze halfway to mouths. The group clustered around the kitchen island all looked up – some with curiosity, some with confusion, and more than a few with amusement flickering in their eyes.
Maybe it was because you were new. Maybe it was because of the bruises still faint on your skin.
But most likely, it was because your hand was still in Bucky’s.
He didn’t let go. Didn’t even glance at anyone else. Just kept walking, leading you gently along the edge of the room, away from the cluster of Avengers near the island and toward the quieter side of the kitchen, where a long table sat empty.
You felt the stares as you moved – curious, not cruel – but still intense enough to make your pulse pick up. You kept your eyes down and your steps soft, letting Bucky be your anchor.
When you reached the table, he let go of your hand only to pull out a chair for you.
You hesitated for a moment before sitting, every instinct in your body still on edge, but Bucky crouched down beside you, his hand resting lightly on your knee as he met your gaze.
“Is there anything in particular you want to eat?” he asked, voice low and warm.
You shook your head slowly. Food still felt foreign. But the way he looked at you – steady, like your uncertainty didn’t bother him – made it easier to stay grounded.
“I’ll go see what’s in the fridge,” he said, giving your knee a soft pat before he stood.
He walked off, and only then did the low hum of conversation begin again behind you, quieter now, but full of sneaky glances in your direction.
You didn’t look up, didn’t turn around. You didn’t need to. You could feel their eyes flicking your way – trying to be discreet, but still curious.
It wasn’t hostility. Just interest. Surprise, maybe. And something a little softer, like maybe they weren’t quite sure how close you and Bucky had gotten.
You could hear snippets as their voices picked back up.
“Is that the girl Stark mentioned?”
“She’s smaller than I expected.”
“Bucky held her hand?”
“She looks like she might bolt if someone breathes too loud.”
But nobody came over. Nobody said anything to you. And after a few minutes, the glances started to fade.
Still, your shoulders stayed tense, your eyes locked on your hands in your lap.
A few minutes later, Bucky came back, crouching down in front of you.
“Okay, we have a few options. There’s some spaghetti, grilled chicken and roasted potatoes, or tacos and Mexican rice.”
You thought for a second before answering. “Chicken and potatoes.”
“Okay,” he said, getting up again. “I’ll be right back.”
He returned shortly after with two plates, both with two small chicken breasts cut up and a pile of roasted potatoes. He set one down in front of you before he settled into the chair next to you with his own plate.
“I wasn’t sure how much you would want, so don’t feel pressured to eat it all. Just eat as much as you want.”
You nodded, then picked up the fork, just looking at the food. Bucky dug into his plate next to you, so you slowly pierced a piece of chicken and put it in your mouth, chewing slowly.
The taste shocked you.
It wasn’t just that it was good – it was real. Real seasoning. Real texture. Real food. After so long with bland, barely-warm rations that barely passed as edible, this was…kind of amazing.
You ate another bite. Then another. The potatoes were crispy on the outside and soft in the middle, warm and perfectly seasoned. The chicken was juicy and tender, and tasted like it had been made by someone who actually cared. You hadn’t realized how long it had been since food tasted like anything.
You weren’t that hungry. At least, you didn’t think you were. But your fork kept moving. Bite after bite disappeared off the plate, slow but steady, your focus narrowing on the food in front of you as the rest of the room faded to a soft, distant hum.
By the time you sat back in your chair, your plate was nearly empty – just a couple small scraps of potato and a few pieces of chicken left behind. You blinked down at it, surprised.
Bucky glanced over at your plate and smiled.
“Told you it was good,” he said lightly. “You done?”
You nodded. “Yeah.”
He paused for a second, then tilted his head slightly. “Wanna know who everyone is?”
Your stomach tensed a little. You looked at him carefully, uncertain. But he seemed to notice right away.
“I won’t make you talk to them,” he added quickly. “I’ll just point them out. Quietly. Just so you know who’s who.”
That made it feel a little safer.
“Okay,” you said softly.
He leaned just slightly closer, keeping his voice low. “Okay, over by the island, guy with the goatee? That’s Tony Stark. He’ll probably say something weird later, but he means well.”
You followed his gaze briefly, before looking back at Bucky.
“The woman next to him, red hair and black tank top? That’s Natasha. She’s quiet but scary smart. Nice, too, once you get to know her.”
You nodded faintly.
“Guy in the gray t-shirt, that’s Steve. Captain America,” he added, almost like it was an afterthought. “He looks all big and tough, but he’s really just a skinny kid from Brooklyn.”
A quiet breath of amusement escaped you, and Bucky’s eyes lit up for a second, like he caught it.
“That’s Sam on the end – laughing at whatever dumb joke he just made.”
“And the one leaning back on the chair, that just threw a napkin at Sam?” Bucky smiled slightly. “That’s Clint. Don’t let the clown act fool you – he notices everything.”
When he finished, he gave you a soft smile and stood.
“I’m gonna rinse these off,” he said, picking up both your plates. “Be right back.”
You nodded, watching him weave easily through the kitchen, stopping briefly to nod or exchange a quiet word with someone. But no one came toward you. No one stared anymore. And the conversations had started to sound normal again.
When Bucky returned, he didn’t say anything, just rested a hand on the back of your chair for a moment.
“You ready to head to your room?” he asked gently.
You nodded, then stood up slowly, as Bucky stepped to the side. He didn’t offer his hand this time as he started to walk, but he didn’t have to.
You slipped your hand into his on your own.
His fingers curled around yours without hesitation, warm and steady, and he gave a small nod like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The quiet hum of voices faded behind you. The hallway felt peaceful again.
You got on the elevator once again, then he led you down the hallway. He pointed out where his room was before stopping in front of a half-open door, pushing it open and turning on the light.
“This will be your room.”
You walked in behind him, letting go of his hand as you took in the room. It was bare, but pretty big, with a big bed in the middle, a dresser and closet off to the right, and another door – probably a bathroom – in the back corner.
“There’s some clothes for you in the dresser, we can get you more if you need, but that should be good for a couple of days.”
You nodded as he made his way over to the bathroom.
“This is your bathroom. Should be stocked with everything you need, but if you’re missing something let me know.”
You nodded again as you stepped in behind him.
“Do you want to take a shower now?”
You carefully looked around the bathroom, then slowly nodded.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Bucky said gently, watching your expression.
You shook your head. “I do.”
He gave a small nod, then turned back toward the bedroom. “Okay. Let me show you what clothes we have for you.”
You followed him out of the bathroom and over to the dresser. He opened one drawer, then another, showing you neatly folded piles of soft t-shirts, sweatshirts, sweatpants, and shorts. He moved aside to give you space.
You picked out a pair of gray sweatpants, a soft black t-shirt, and a set of clean underwear, holding them close as you followed him back to the bathroom.
He stopped just outside the doorway, turning to look at you. “Do you need anything else?”
You looked around the bathroom once more, then shook your head. “No.”
“Alright,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll come back in a little bit to check on you.”
He started to turn, walking away from the bathroom door when you suddenly said, “Wait.”
He paused instantly, turning back. “Yeah?”
You hesitated, hugging the clothes a little tighter against your chest. “Can you…stay?”
His eyebrows lifted a little, not in surprise – more in quiet understanding. “Okay. You want me to wait outside the door?”
You nodded, a little embarrassed but not wanting him to completely leave.
Bucky’s smile softened. “Okay. I’ll be right out here.”
He gestured to the floor just beside the bathroom, then gently pulled the door closed behind him.
You let out a breath, relieved that he was staying. Then, you set the clothes down on the counter and turned on the water. You pulled off your clothes before carefully stepping into the shower, immediately being met with hot water.
You stood under the water for a long moment, not moving, just letting the water run down your back and shoulders. The heat melted into your muscles, loosening tension you hadn’t even realized you were carrying. You closed your eyes, tilted your head forward, and took a slow, deep breath.
Little by little, you started to relax.
You weren’t used to hot showers, but this was something else entirely. The warmth, the pressure, the way the steam clung to your skin – it made everything feel quieter inside.
Finally, you reached for the shampoo, working it through your hair with careful fingers. The scent was clean and light, something almost floral. You rinsed it out slowly, then reached for the body wash, running it gently across your arms, your shoulders, your legs.
By the time you turned off the water, your body felt clean and warm and…new. Like you’d shed something invisible.
You dried off slowly, careful not to push at the spots on your skin that still felt tender, then pulled on the soft sweatpants and t-shirt. They were a little big, but comfortable.
At the sink, you opened a drawer and found a brush. You ran it gently through your damp hair, then found a toothbrush and some toothpaste and brushed your teeth. It felt like such a small thing, but even that made you feel a little more grounded.
Finally, you took a breath and opened the bathroom door.
Bucky was sitting right there on the floor next to the door, just like he said he would be. His head turned up at the sound, eyes meeting yours immediately.
“You done?” he asked, standing as he spoke.
You nodded. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” he said softly. “Do you want me to take your old clothes?”
You stepped back into the bathroom for a second, grabbed the small pile of clothes, and handed them to him.
He took them without hesitation, folding them under one arm. “Do you need anything else right now?”
You shook your head. “No.”
“Alright,” he said, smiling. “You can settle in a little bit. I’ll be right back.”
When he turned and walked out the door, you just stood there for a little bit, looking around.
It felt different now. Calm, quiet, and just a little safer.
You slowly walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge. The mattress dipped softly beneath you, and your brows lifted slightly in surprise. It was…really soft. You sank in a little more, curling your fingers into the edge of the comforter. The fabric was cool against your hands, clean and smooth.
You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed something as simple as a soft bed.
A few minutes later, the door creaked open again and Bucky stepped back in.
“You like the room?” he asked.
You nodded. “Yeah.”
“And the bed?”
Your lips tugged into the tiniest hint of a smile. “It’s soft.”
He chuckled quietly, nodding. “Good. That’s the most important part.”
You glanced down, fiddling with the edge of the blanket as he spoke again.
“So…tomorrow’s probably gonna be a little busy. Bruce wants to run a few more tests – nothing too invasive, just some scans. Maybe an MRI or x-rays, depending on how you’re feeling. He just wants to get a better look, make sure we’re not missing anything.”
You nodded slowly, absorbing the information without reacting much. It made sense.
“And,” he continued gently, “the team’s gonna have a meeting. Debriefing. They’ll want to go over what happened. Get some answers, if you’re up for it.”
Your stomach tensed a little at that, but he must’ve seen it, because his tone softened even more.
“But,” he said quickly, “if any of that feels like too much, or if you’re not ready, just say the word. We can wait. All of it. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”
You looked at him then, grateful for how easy he made it to believe him.
“Okay,” you said softly.
He nodded once. “Alright. We’ll take it slow.”
Then, after a beat: “You ready to go to bed?”
You nodded again. “Yeah.”
“Okay.”
He stayed in place as you lifted the blankets and slid beneath them, the covers warm and clean against your skin. You shifted to your side, pulling them around you, trying to settle into the comfort you weren’t used to.
Bucky gave you a small smile. “Get some rest. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”
You nodded one last time, and he quietly stepped back, easing the door shut with a soft click behind him.
You were alone again.
The bed was soft. The room was quiet. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were safe.
But your mind was thinking over everything he’d said – scans, questions, meetings. You weren’t sure you were ready for that. You weren’t sure what you were ready for.
Still, the thought of Bucky being nearby helped. So you closed your eyes, pulled the blankets tighter, and tried to breathe.
--
You’d tossed and turned for a long time, just trying to fall asleep.
Eventually, though, you gave up. For the past couple of hours, you’ve just been laying on your back, staring up at the ceiling.
You didn’t want to wake up Bucky. You didn’t even really want to get out of bed. But you couldn’t take it anymore.
You slipped out from under the covers and made your way to the door. But when you opened it and stepped out into the hall, you couldn’t remember which end Bucky’s room was on. There were elevators at both ends of the hallway, and you couldn’t remember which side you had come from.
So you ended up just standing there for a while, the tile in the hallway cold against your bare feet, not knowing what to do.
A few minutes later, you heard a door open down the hall.
You looked over to see a woman – Natasha – step out of her room. She looked half asleep and didn’t even notice you until she was a couple steps away from her door. When she saw you, she froze, like she wasn’t sure if she should be concerned for you or for herself.
“Umm, hey,” she said, slowly. “You okay?”
You weren’t sure what to say. You didn’t want to ask for Bucky. Honestly, it was probably a good thing you didn’t remember where his room was. He didn’t need you bothering him this late anyway.
“Do you need something?”
You looked back at her, and she looked more relaxed now. Like she knew you weren’t a threat. As much as you told yourself you shouldn’t, you spoke before you could stop yourself.
“Bucky.”
She smiled softly, like she was expecting you to say that.
“Okay, I’ll get him for you.”
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as she turned around, heading to the left side of the hall. You watched as she knocked softly on his door, and you committed that door to memory.
A moment later, Bucky’s door cracked open. Natasha said something quietly – too soft for you to hear – but as soon as he stepped into the hallway and spotted you, his expression shifted.
His brows pulled together in concern as he immediately moved toward you, brushing past Natasha without a second glance.
“Hey,” he said softly, already making a beeline to your side. “What’s wrong?”
You opened your mouth, but no words came out.
You didn’t want to say it. You didn’t want to admit that you couldn’t sleep, because it sounded childish. Weak. Stupid. But you didn’t have any other reason, and he was standing right there, looking at you like he really wanted to help.
Still, you couldn’t speak. You just stared at him.
His gaze softened even more, then he placed a hand on your back. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s go back inside.”
You let him guide you back into your room, his hand never leaving your back. He walked you over to the bed and sat you down carefully before settling beside you.
He looked at you for a moment, quiet and patient.
“What’s wrong?” he asked again, voice low and kind.
You shook your head slowly, your lips pressing together.
“Was it a nightmare?” he asked.
You hesitated, then shook your head again. “No,” you said quietly. “I just…can’t sleep.”
He nodded, like he understood completely. Like it wasn’t weird or dumb or anything to be embarrassed about.
“Do you want me to stay?” he asked.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding – almost like a sigh of relief – and nodded. “Yes.”
A small smile tugged at his lips, proud and gentle. You weren’t as tense now. He could see that.
“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll be right back.”
You watched him leave, then come back less than a minute later, his pillow tucked under one arm and a blanket slung over the other. He closed the door behind him with a soft click, then crossed the room and set his pillow on the floor near your bed.
“I’ll stay with you,” he said simply, looking up at you.
You nodded. “Okay.”
You laid back down, pulling the covers around you, and Bucky laid down on the floor beside the bed, getting comfortable with barely a sound.
The room was quiet again – but this time, it wasn’t lonely.
And this time, you fell asleep quickly.
--
Part 3 | Masterlist
Author's Note: part 2 of Darling and I Noticed are coming soon :) and if you want to be added to either taglist, just let me know!!
It's my birthday, so you know I had to write some Bucky fics🥳 Couldn't decide on a plot, so I wrote three mini ones :)
Total Word Count: 5,916
(was going to add a bucky gif but this one was funnier😂)
Today was your birthday, and as you got out of bed, you couldn’t help but smile. You have always loved your birthday.
You always felt so self-centered whenever you thought about it, saying you loved a day that was all about you. But in reality, you just loved being celebrated for once.
As you made your way down the compound hallway, you expected a few “happy birthdays,” and maybe even a card, but not much as you walked into the kitchen for breakfast.
But when you stepped in, you were met with a few “good mornings” and a “if you want coffee you’re gonna have to make more.”
You hid the disappointment on your face, but as you started a new pot of coffee, you tried to convince yourself that it was okay. It was early, they just woke up, and it probably wouldn’t register until later anyway.
But when later came, there was still no mention of your birthday.
Not in training, not at lunch, not in the afternoon meetings, not even when you were chilling in the common room that evening, some of the other Avengers coming in and out, making casual conversation.
That’s when you started to think, maybe they planned something bigger than you thought. Maybe – just maybe – they had a surprise party planned for you. Maybe they’d order in from your favorite restaurant, or just have a cake.
But as the others started drifting in and out of the kitchen, warming up leftovers or making something themselves, you knew that wasn’t happening either.
Finally, everyone had eaten and made their way back to their rooms. And you were still sitting on the couch, hoping someone would remember.
But no one did.
You tried not to let it bother you. You haven’t even known them a year, it’s been a while since you talked about your birthday last, and it’s not like you expected them to remember anyway.
But you couldn’t help the tears that started to leak from your eyes when you realized how alone you felt.
You didn’t have any other friends or family left. No one else that would have known. No calls or texts.
You could have just told them, but you didn’t want to seem like you were looking for attention. Didn’t want them to feel like they had to make a big deal out of it. Didn’t want to make them feel bad that they forgot.
But all you wanted, all day, was just to hear someone say “happy birthday.”
You didn’t know how long you sat there, staring at the wall, tears slowly streaming down your face, but you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching until it was too late.
“Y/n?”
You jumped and looked up.
Bucky was standing over the couch, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed.
“What?” you said, quickly swiping the backs of your hands over your cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
You forced a smile, shaking your head a little too quickly. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Bucky didn’t move. “You’ve been sitting here for a while.”
“I was just…relaxing.”
“In the dark?” he asked, eyebrow raised.
You gave a half-hearted shrug and looked away. “Didn’t feel like turning the lights on.”
He came around the couch, hesitating for a moment before sitting at the far end, giving you space. His voice was gentler now. “You’ve been crying.”
“No, I haven’t.”
He gave you a look – quiet, patient, not pressing, but not buying it either.
You sighed, eyes on the coffee table. “It’s stupid.”
Bucky’s brow furrowed. “It’s not stupid if it has you this upset.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, debating. He didn’t need to know. It wasn’t his problem. But the words slipped out anyway, soft and strained.
“It’s my birthday.”
Bucky blinked. “Today?”
You nodded once.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, guilt flashing in his expression. “I wish you would’ve said something.”
“It’s fine,” you said quickly, waving it off with a tired smile. “I didn’t want to make it a thing.”
He looked like he wanted to say more, but you cut in again, trying to redirect.
“I think I just…missed my family a little more today, that’s all.” You gave a shrug like it was no big deal, like that was the full truth. But he could see it in your eyes – that wasn’t the whole story.
Still, he didn’t call you out on it. He just nodded slowly and said, “Well…happy birthday.”
Something in your chest loosened at that. It was small, and a little late, but it was something.
You smiled, a little sad but a little grateful too. “Thanks.”
You stood up after that, brushing your hands against your sides as if to shake the weight of the day off with the motion. “I’m gonna head to bed.”
“Alright,” Bucky said, watching you go.
You gave him a small nod before walking out of the room.
--
A little while later, you were sitting on your bed, legs tucked under you and a book open in your lap, though you hadn’t turned a page in ten minutes. The earlier conversation with Bucky kept replaying in your mind – his quiet apology, the way he’d said happy birthday like it actually mattered to him. You told yourself not to dwell on it, that he’d just felt bad.
Then came a soft knock on your door.
You looked up, startled. It wasn’t that late, but still – unexpected.
When you opened the door, Bucky was standing there.
“Hey,” he said simply. “Come with me.”
You blinked. “What? Why?”
He just motioned you to follow him. “You’ll see.”
You hesitated, half-suspicious, half-hopeful. Your brain tried to tamp down your expectations, but your heart didn’t listen. You followed him anyway, barefoot down the hall, trying not to get your hopes up.
When you reached the kitchen, the lights were on – and the room wasn’t empty.
The rest of the team was there, scattered around the counters and table. There was a lopsided cake sitting in the center, icing smudged in some places and candles poking out at awkward angles.
Everyone turned when you walked in, and in near unison, they said:
“Happy birthday!”
You froze.
Apologies immediately followed. Tony started with some dramatic excuse, Steve gave you a genuine “I’m so sorry we forgot,” Nat muttered something that sounded like guilt hidden behind dry humor, and even Sam offered a sheepish, “You should’ve said something, we would’ve made a big deal, you know that.”
You smiled, overwhelmed but somehow lighter than you’d felt all day. “It’s okay. Really. I didn’t tell anyone, so...it’s not your fault.”
Your eyes drifted to Bucky.
He was standing a little off to the side, arms crossed, but there was a small smile playing on his lips as he watched you take it all in.
“You did all this for me?” you asked softly, your eyes locked on his.
He shrugged, like it was nothing. “Didn’t want the day to end without someone celebrating you.”
The warmth that bloomed in your chest was almost too much to process. You wanted to say more, to tell him how much it meant, but your throat felt tight.
Instead, you stepped closer to the cake as someone started lighting the candles, the room filled with flickers of golden light. You stared at the glow, the soft hum of voices around you beginning the birthday song.
You looked up, just before you blew out the candles, and your eyes found Bucky again.
He was already watching you, that same quiet smile on his face.
You smiled back – grateful, full-hearted – and made your wish.
I want every birthday to feel like this.
And then, you blew out the candles.
When your alarm went off in the morning, you just turned it off with a sigh.
It was your birthday.
And while that should be a good thing, you’ve never really liked your birthday. You didn’t know why exactly, but you just always seemed to end up crying.
You knew some family and other people would text you, wishing you a happy birthday. But you knew for a fact there wouldn’t be any parties happening at the compound.
This was your first birthday as an Avenger, and you made sure not to make a big deal about when your birthday was. So you hoped that you would have an attention-free birthday.
But that lasted all of 30 minutes.
You went down to the kitchen for breakfast – successfully, with no “happy birthdays.”
After sipping on coffee and grabbing a protein bar, you made your way to the training room before everyone else, always preferring to get some extra warm-ups in before it started.
When you walked in, Bucky was the only other one in there, stretching.
He said hey, you greeted him back, then you started to walk to the other side of the room.
“Happy birthday.”
You froze.
How the hell did he know it was your birthday?
You slowly turned around, eyes wide. “What?”
He froze now, too. “Oh…is it not your birthday?”
You just opened your mouth, then closed it again, trying to figure out how he would know.
“No it is,” you answered, taking a couple steps toward him. “But how did you know that?”
He furrowed his eyebrows, standing straight up now. “You mentioned it once.”
You narrowed your eyes, taking a few more steps toward him. “When?”
He raised an eyebrow, looking at you like you were crazy. “Uhh…I don’t know. Why?”
You stared at him, still baffled. “No, seriously. When did I say that? I don’t remember ever telling you.”
Bucky just shrugged, like it was obvious. “You mentioned it once – maybe a couple months ago? You were talking to Nat about what time of year you hate the most or something. You said your birthday always sucked.”
You blinked. That did sound like something you’d mutter in passing without thinking anyone was really listening.
“But…” you hesitated, still a little thrown. “You remembered that?”
Now it was Bucky’s turn to look confused. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
You opened your mouth again, searching for an answer, but the words felt heavy in your chest. “I don’t know,” you said finally. “It just…surprises me.”
He tilted his head. “Why?”
You gave a small shrug, suddenly feeling a little silly. “I don’t really like my birthday.”
That seemed to catch him off guard. “You don’t?”
“Nope.”
He folded his arms across his chest, watching you now with real curiosity. “Why not?”
“I don’t really have a reason,” you said, looking down at your feet and giving a small shake of your head. “It just always ends up being a bad day. I try not to expect much, and then it still somehow manages to suck.”
There was a pause, and then Bucky said, in a tone that was so matter-of-fact it stunned you, “Well…I’ll make sure it isn’t a bad day for you.”
You looked up sharply, eyes meeting his. He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t saying it to be polite.
He meant it.
For a second, you didn’t know what to say. You were used to people brushing your feelings off or awkwardly changing the subject – not promising to make it better.
“…Well,” you said after a beat, the sincerity of his words warming something deep inside you, “thank you.”
You gave him a small, almost shy smile, then turned away and started walking toward the mats. The sound of your shoes echoed softly as you crossed the room to your usual corner to begin stretching.
A few moments later, the rest of the team began to file in – Steve and Sam mid-argument, Natasha sipping coffee like she hadn’t slept, and Clint yawning dramatically as he tossed his gear bag to the side.
But even with all the noise and movement that followed, you still felt that quiet flicker of warmth from earlier.
Because for once…maybe your birthday wouldn’t be a bad day.
--
After training, you headed straight back to your room, muscles sore but heart still unexpectedly light.
The hot shower helped clear your head a little, washing away the sweat and leftover tension from earlier. You changed into a fresh hoodie and leggings, combed your hair, and just as you stepped out the door to head downstairs for lunch, you noticed something.
A small gift bag.
It was sitting neatly right outside your door. Pale blue with silver tissue paper poking out the top.
Your eyebrows knit together as you bent to pick it up, glancing down the hallway like someone might jump out and take credit.
No one did.
You stepped back into your room, set the bag on your bed, and carefully opened it.
Inside was a small card, simple but clearly handwritten.
Hope this one doesn’t suck. Happy Birthday.
– Bucky
You huffed out a surprised breath – half-laugh, half-scoff – as your heart tugged in your chest.
Beneath the card was a small, thoughtful gift. Your favorite kind of tea, a book you’d mentioned in passing weeks ago, and a sleek new knife – something practical, but still somehow personal.
Your fingers brushed over the items as you smiled, something soft and unguarded breaking through your usual quiet shell.
You were still smiling when you headed down to the kitchen.
But when you stepped in, your eyes widened. Lining the counters were containers and boxes from your favorite takeout spot – steam rising from fresh dishes, a spread of every comfort meal you loved most.
“Whoa,” you said, blinking. “What’s going on?”
Tony glanced up from where he was stacking plates. “Just lunch.”
You eyed the food again, mouth already watering. “Is there a reason you ordered from here?”
“Bucky requested it for some reason,” he said. “Which was weird because I didn’t think he liked this place.”
Before you could react, you heard footsteps. Bucky walked in, hair still damp, wearing a clean t-shirt and joggers. He looked relaxed – and when his eyes met yours, a quiet kind of warmth passed between you.
You met him halfway, smiling as you spoke. “Thank you. For the gift. And…everything.”
He gave a half-shrug, obviously downplaying his efforts. “Figured you deserved it.”
You looked at him for a moment, then lowered your voice a little. “Did you tell the others? About today?”
He shook his head. “No. Wasn’t sure if you wanted me to.”
You paused, touched by how seriously he took that small boundary. And maybe a little surprised by how much that consideration meant to you.
After a breath, you said softly, “No. I didn’t.”
He nodded, respectful and unbothered.
Then, as if on cue, your stomach growled. You both cracked a grin.
“Let’s eat,” he said.
And together, you walked over to the counter, grabbed plates, and started filling them side by side.
You were lounging in your room later that afternoon, scrolling aimlessly through your phone and trying not to think too hard about the day – how unexpectedly good it had turned out – when your phone buzzed.
It was a text from Steve in the group chat.
Hey guys, team dinner at 5 tonight. Don’t miss it.
You frowned slightly, sitting up. That wasn’t unusual – team dinners happened all the time – but the phrasing was oddly formal. Still, you figured it was just one of those days where Steve decided to be overly responsible.
A few hours later, when it was almost 5, you started making your way downstairs.
But when you stepped into the kitchen, you stopped dead in your tracks.
Everyone was already there.
“Happy birthday!” they all chorused.
Your eyes went wide. A huge cake sat on the counter – frosted perfectly, with your name in bold letters and candles already placed, ready to be lit.
You didn’t say anything at first, completely stunned. Your gaze immediately flicked to the one person you were sure had something to do with this.
Bucky was leaning casually against the island, arms crossed, a smug little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looked almost too pleased with himself.
You blinked, still processing, before shaking your head with a quiet laugh. “You guys…”
“Why didn’t you tell us it was your birthday?” Natasha asked, hands on her hips like she was genuinely offended. “You know we celebrate birthdays around here.”
Sam pointed a chip at you. “Yeah, what the hell, y/n. I would’ve made my world-famous brownies.”
“Tony would’ve gone overboard with decorations,” Clint added.
You let out a soft laugh, feeling your cheeks flush with both embarrassment and joy. “I don’t know…I just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
“You don’t have to,” Steve said, “but we will.”
The room chuckled, and you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face. “Thank you, really.”
“Don’t thank us,” Tony said, waving a hand. “Thank Barnes.”
You glanced over at Bucky again.
He just shrugged like it was nothing, but the slight pink in his cheeks gave him away.
“Wait, wait,” Sam cut in, grinning wide now. “You don’t even know. After lunch, this guy went full sergeant mode.”
“I’m serious,” Clint chimed in, pointing dramatically. “He went door to door like some birthday vigilante. Told all of us the plan, gave assignments.”
“He picked out the cake himself,” Natasha added with a smirk. “Wouldn’t let anyone help. Said he had it handled.”
Bucky looked vaguely horrified as all eyes turned on him. “You guys are so dramatic.”
“You were literally ordering people around,” Bruce said mildly. “It was kind of impressive, honestly.”
You couldn’t stop laughing now, covering your mouth as you turned to Bucky again. “You did all that?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting anywhere but at you. “Didn’t want your birthday to suck.”
Your smile softened, and you took a step closer. “Thank you,” you said again, quieter this time.
He finally looked at you, and the look on his face – slightly shy, slightly proud – made your chest tighten in the best way.
“Anytime,” he murmured.
--
Dinner was loud, messy, and perfect.
Everyone gathered around the big table, plates full of takeout and mismatched drinks clinking together. There was endless banter – Sam complaining about the spice level, Tony bragging about some invention no one asked about, Nat calmly stealing fries off Clint’s plate without looking up.
At some point, the others subtly shuffled chairs and swapped spots so that, somehow, you ended up sitting right next to Bucky.
You didn’t say anything about it.
He didn’t either.
But you felt the slight brush of his knee against yours under the table, and the warm little flicker in your chest told you it wasn’t a coincidence.
After the meal was finished and people were groaning about being too full, Tony dramatically declared it was “cake time,” and Bruce lit the candles while Steve dimmed the lights.
Everyone gathered around the kitchen island, and you stood at the center, cheeks burning as they sang the happy birthday song in varying levels of pitch and enthusiasm. You caught Bucky watching you again – eyes soft, a faint smile on his lips – and just before you blew out the candles, you gave him a grateful look.
Your wish was simple: Let every birthday feel like this one.
Afterward, everyone dug into the cake and ice cream, cracking jokes about sugar crashes and fighting over middle slices.
Eventually, as plates were scraped clean and the sugar haze started to settle in, Steve asked you a question.
“So, what’s the best birthday gift you’ve ever gotten?”
You blinked, thinking. “Hmm…probably when I turned seven. I wanted this purple bike. Like, really wanted it. I talked about it nonstop for months.”
Bucky leaned his elbow on the table, quietly watching you as you spoke.
“My parents acted like they had no idea what I was talking about – kept saying it was too expensive, I was too small, I’d grow out of it. And then boom – there it was in the living room with a giant bow on it. I think I screamed.”
Everyone laughed as you smiled at the memory.
You went quiet for a moment after that, then glanced down at your plate, voice a little softer. “But…I think today might be the best one yet, actually.”
There was a pause.
Then, a collective and heartfelt chorus of “Awww” went around the table.
“Well, we’re glad we could finally celebrate it with you,” Steve said, lifting his glass of soda.
“And we all know who made it happen,” Natasha said, eyes sliding toward Bucky.
You laughed as the teasing began again.
“He organized this whole thing,” Sam said with mock awe.
“Birthday commander,” Clint added. “Ten-hut!”
“Oh, shut up,” Bucky muttered, slouching a little in his seat, clearly embarrassed but grinning all the same.
“You picked a damn good cake, man,” Tony said, patting his shoulder.
You turned toward him, bumping your shoulder gently against his. “You really did.”
He just gave you a sideways glance and said, quiet but sincere, “Told you I’d make sure it wasn’t a bad day.”
And as the night drifted into laughter and stories, you couldn’t help but think – he really did.
Your alarm goes off with a soft chime, cutting through the quiet warmth of you and Bucky’s shared room at the compound. You barely have time to register the sound before Bucky's lips are on you – pressing kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. He peppers your face with affection, slow and sleepy and smiling against your skin.
You laugh, soft and muffled in your pillow, tilting your head just enough to catch his eyes. He’s already grinning.
“Happy birthday, doll,” he murmurs, voice still husky with sleep.
“Thank you,” you whisper back, your heart flipping the way it always does when he looks at you like that. You reach for him and press a kiss to his lips – slow, lingering, and just enough to make him hum contentedly against you.
You stay like that for a little while longer, tangled up in sheets and each other, letting the day stretch out ahead of you. You know training is coming, but right now, the world is just you and him.
Eventually, reluctantly, you both get up and start getting ready. As you pull on your training clothes, you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. The day ahead is already playing out in your mind – lunch with Nat and Wanda, getting your nails done, some much-needed retail therapy, and then dinner with Bucky tonight. A proper date night.
You're still smiling when you and Bucky head downstairs to the kitchen, your fingers brushing against his as you walk. The moment you step through the door, a chorus of voices greets you.
“Happy birthday!”
Everyone is already gathered around, mugs in hand, grinning. There’s a card on the table, standing upright like it's been waiting for you. You pick it up and open it, your chest warming at the familiar, chaotic mix of handwriting and doodles. Everyone signed it.
Bucky moves around the kitchen, making your coffee like he always does. He sets your mug in front of you before you can even ask, the steam curling between you as he leans down to kiss the top of your head.
“Sit,” he says, already grabbing ingredients. “Birthday girl doesn’t lift a finger.”
You roll your eyes fondly but take your seat, watching as he whips up a batch of your favorite – chocolate chip pancakes, golden and fluffy and stacked high. He even adds extra chocolate chips, just the way you like.
Breakfast is warm and sweet and full of laughter. It’s everything you love about mornings at the compound – only better, because Bucky keeps sneaking glances at you like you hung the moon.
Once the plates are cleared and coffee cups drained, Bucky stretches, then offers you his hand. “Ready for training?”
You groan half-heartedly, but your fingers curl around his anyway. “Let’s get it over with.”
As you head to the training room together, you’re already counting down the hours until lunch with the girls, your date with Bucky, and whatever else the day might bring. Because so far, it’s perfect – and you’ve got a feeling it’s only going to get better.
--
Training is tougher than usual – either Steve's in a particularly bad mood or you're just too giddy to focus. Probably the latter. Even Bucky, usually dialed in and sharp, keeps sneaking glances at you between sparring drills. At one point, Nat elbows him with a smirk and whispers something that makes him roll his eyes, though the blush on his cheeks gives him away.
By the time you’re done, your muscles ache in that satisfying way, and your hair is sticking to your neck. You shoot Bucky a grin as you part ways in the hallway.
“Quick shower, then I’m off to be spoiled.”
He leans in, presses a kiss to your temple, his metal hand curling gently around your waist. “Good. You deserve it. Have fun with the girls.”
You take a quick shower, letting the hot water ease the tension from your shoulders. You towel off, slipping into the outfit you picked out just for today: something cute but comfy, perfect for brunch and window shopping. Then, you put on some makeup and grab your purse.
By the time you step out of your room, Nat and Wanda are already waiting for you by the elevators.
“Birthday girl is ready,” Nat declares, linking her arm through yours.
Wanda grins and hands you a gift bag. “Just a little something to start the day.”
Inside is a new shade of lipstick Wanda swore would look perfect on you last week, and a new knife, obviously from Nat.
You blink back the sudden warmth in your eyes. “You guys…”
“Don’t get all sappy on us yet,” Nat smirks. “We’ve got mimosas to drink.”
You all pile into one of the cars and head into the city. Lunch is at your favorite brunch spot – outdoor seating, the smell of fresh pastries and coffee in the air, the sun warm on your face. The three of you toast with fruity drinks, laugh too loudly, and share everything from pancakes to avocado toast. Nat insists on ordering a dessert for the table – something with caramel and ice cream – and you nearly fall into a food coma right then and there.
After lunch, it's nails and spa. The place Wanda picked is chic and relaxing, with soft music and cucumber water and cozy chairs. The three of you sit side-by-side getting your nails done, flipping through magazines and comparing colors. You go for a soft birthday-pink with a little shimmer, while Nat chooses a dark red, and Wanda surprises everyone with a glittery teal.
“You have to take a selfie with Bucky tonight,” Wanda says, examining your finished nails. “I need to see his face when he realizes how ridiculously in love with you he is.”
You laugh, heart fluttering, because yeah…you already know he is. And you’re so gone for him, too.
Shopping comes last – mostly browsing, a few impulse buys, and Nat pretending she doesn’t care while picking out a killer leather jacket. You grab a candle that smells like fresh linen and vanilla, and a sweater you know Bucky will love seeing you in.
As the sun starts to dip lower, painting the sky in warm golds and oranges, you all head back to the compound. Your bag is full, your heart is fuller, and you can’t stop smiling.
And now, all you can think about is what comes next: dinner with Bucky, just the two of you. You already know he’s planning something – he’s been too quiet about it not to be. And whatever it is, you’re more than ready.
--
The elevator doors slide open, and you step into the compound with Nat and Wanda, arms full of shopping bags and your cheeks still warm from laughing. As you walk into the common room, you spot most of the guys sprawled out on the couches – Steve with a book, Sam mid-argument with Tony over something on the TV, and Bucky, who jumps up the moment he sees you.
He crosses the room in a few long strides, not even pretending to play it cool. His eyes scan you first – head to toe – then he’s reaching for the bags in your hands.
“Let me get these,” he says, voice low, eyes soft.
You open your mouth to protest, but he’s already taking everything out of your arms like it weighs nothing. And then he kisses you – right there, in front of everyone. Warm and slow, his hand cradling your jaw like you’re the only thing that matters.
Sam lets out a dramatic groan. “Damn, man, give us a warning next time!”
Tony whistles. “She leaves for a few hours and you act like she’s been gone for a week.”
Bucky doesn’t even blink. “Jealous?” he tosses over his shoulder, still entirely focused on you. “C’mon, doll. Let’s get ready.”
He carries everything up like it’s his job, and honestly, maybe it is. By the time you reach your room, he’s already setting the bags gently on the bench at the foot of your bed.
You step into the bathroom while he heads to the closet, the quiet tension of the evening starting to build. The outfit you picked for dinner hangs by the mirror: a dress that makes you feel effortlessly beautiful, the kind Bucky always lingers on a little too long when you wear. You slip into it, your freshly done nails shining against the fabric. You add a pair of earrings and swipe on Wanda’s new lipstick before stepping out of the bathroom.
Bucky is waiting for you in a suit, and when he turns around, his breath catches.
“Wow,” he says simply, eyes locked on you. “You look…”
You smile. “So do you.”
He takes your hand and kisses it – like you’re in a movie, like he does it without thinking. “Ready?”
“Definitely.”
The drive to the restaurant is quiet and peaceful. He plays your favorite playlist in the car, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh. The city lights blur past the windows as he takes you to a place you’ve never been, but that looks straight out of a romance novel – high ceilings, flickering candles, soft piano music playing in the background.
He holds every door open. Pulls out your chair. Orders your favorite wine before you even ask. You try not to grin too obviously, but it’s hard. He’s doing the “perfect gentleman” thing to an almost suspicious degree.
Not that you’re complaining.
The dinner is beautiful and amazing, course after course of rich, expertly made food. But the whole time, there’s this energy underneath it all, buzzing beneath Bucky’s smile. He’s trying to be chill, casual, but you know him. You can tell something’s going on.
He keeps checking his watch.
His phone buzzes once, and he flips it over quickly.
He’s got that subtle, telltale edge of nerves that gives him away more than he realizes.
You’ve helped plan enough surprise parties for the team to know the signs. And you have a pretty good idea of what’s waiting for you when you get back to the compound. But you don’t say anything. You let him play it out. Let him have his moment. Because whatever he’s planning – whatever he’s got up his sleeve – you already know it’s going to mean the world.
And for now, you’re perfectly content to sip your wine, smile at Bucky across the table, and enjoy every second of your perfect birthday night.
--
Dinner winds down with a shared dessert, a quiet toast from Bucky, and the kind of silence that feels full, like neither of you wants to break the spell. But eventually, he checks the time and pays the bill with a small, almost secretive smile.
“Ready to head home, birthday girl?”
You nod, your heart already thudding with quiet anticipation.
The drive back is filled with soft music and stolen glances. Bucky’s thumb strokes over your knuckles as he holds your hand the whole way, and that tension you’d been feeling at dinner – the almost playful, charged energy between you – still lingers, stronger now. You know something’s waiting when you get back. You just don’t know how much.
The elevator doors open with a soft chime, and you’re met with darkness.
The lights on the floor are off – eerily quiet, especially for the compound. Bucky pretends like he’s surprised too, furrowing his brow in mock confusion. “We pay the electric bill this month?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe Tony forgot.”
Then, the lights come on, and everyone jumps out from behind the couches, kitchen island, and even the hallway walls, yelling in unison:
“SURPRISE!!”
Confetti rains from the ceiling in a shower of glitter and paper streamers. A banner stretches across the room that reads “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” in big, glittery letters. Someone sets off a mini party cannon and Sam cheers like a mad man.
There's a massive cake waiting on the table, lit with candles, next to a spread of ice cream and a stack of mismatched bowls. The scent of frosting and sugar fills the air, and the sound of laughter is instant and infectious.
You laugh, loud and unfiltered, spinning toward Bucky with wide eyes. He’s already looking at you, hands in his pockets, that proud, satisfied smile lighting up his whole face.
You step in close and lean up, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You did all this?”
He grins, just a little bashful now. “Maybe I had some help.”
You kiss him – soft and sweet – and whisper, “Thank you. This is perfect.”
The next hour is a blur of warmth and chaos. The team sings a hilariously off-key version of the happy birthday song, with Tony making dramatic hand gestures like he’s conducting a symphony and Thor booming the final line so loudly the windows rattle. You blow out the candles, and Bucky’s standing right behind you, hands gently resting on your hips as everyone cheers.
There’s cake and ice cream and drinks, gifts exchanged, and stories shared.
At one point, as you're sitting on the couch with Bucky’s arm wrapped around you, Nat asks, “So, were you actually surprised?”
You raise your brows, give a little shrug, and smirk. “Well…I kinda had a feeling.”
The whole room erupts in laughter – even Bucky, who leans into you with a mock groan. “I knew you were onto me.”
The night winds down slowly, and people start saying goodnight one by one. The confetti's still in your hair, your lipstick’s worn off, and you’ve never felt more full – of cake, yes, but also of joy.
Eventually, Bucky stands, offering you his hand again, his eyes darker now in the soft lighting. “C’mon, doll,” he murmurs, slipping a hand to the small of your back as he walks you to the elevator. “I’ve got one more gift for you.”
The way he says it – low, intimate, voice curling around the words like a promise – sends a slow, warm shiver up your spine.
You smile as the elevator doors close behind you.
And when you get back to your room, it’s the best gift yet.
The night ends not with laughter, but with whispered words, tangled limbs, and the kind of closeness that feels sacred.
Author's Note: promise I'm not trying to ask for attention😭 but if we're birthday twins, happy birthday! And if not and you come back to this on your birthday, happy birthday :)
Summary: Bucky goes on a mission to investigate a possible Hydra base, and comes back with you...who they were training to be the new Winter Soldier.
Word Count: 1,020
The explosion jolted you awake, and you stood up immediately, your heavy breathing the only sound echoing around the concrete walls of your cell.
You stood there, listening, wondering if you were imagining the explosion you heard. But then, you heard another one, followed by gunfire this time.
You were rooted in place, not sure what was going on. Although, you’ve never had any clue what goes on in this place. Or what it even was. Or how you got here. All you know is what they told you, though you doubted that was the whole truth.
They told you that they had saved you, but you didn’t remember anything about your life before coming to this place. They told you it was the new Red Room. The new Hydra. A safe place. Giving girls who needed a home not only a place to stay, but a place to teach them how to protect themselves.
And then, there was you. They told you that you were special. You were the strongest, the smartest, had the most potential.
They said they were making you the new Winter Soldier.
Which is how you knew what they were really doing here. It wasn’t a place to save anyone. They were training you to be assassins.
Heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway outside the cell door pulled you from your thoughts. You couldn’t move, just waited. Then, they finally slowed down, stopping outside your door. A few moments later, the door opened slowly, with a low groan, casting light into the cell. The same groan you’ve come to associate with the beginning of training and torture.
But no one came inside. No one even stood in the doorway. No guards to come grab you and escorting you where they wanted you next. No handlers coming to talk to you or give you a tray full of a sorry excuse for food.
Until, finally, a man stepped into the doorway, looking at you.
Not just any man. The Winter Soldier.
Although you’d never met him, you knew everything about him. As the Winter Soldier at least. Nothing about his life before or after.
You’d seen every video, every picture, from pretty much every bit of training or torture he endured, along with the missions he went on. You knew everything he did. Probably more than he remembered.
He was supposed to be your idol. They practically preached about him. You were supposed to be the next him, so of course they told you and showed you everything he did.
But this wasn’t the Winter Soldier. They told you he was dead. But you’d somehow known all along that he’d gotten out. Which is what gave you the hope that maybe you could too.
And now he was standing in front of you.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to help you. My name is Bucky Barnes.”
So he had a name. Maybe that meant you did, too.
“I’m here with the Avengers. We came to save you. We’re going to get you out of here, okay? You’re going to be okay. You can trust me.”
And you did. You knew all the awful things this man did under their control. But you also knew without a doubt that there was nothing of the Winter Soldier left in him.
He slowly reached out his hand, like he didn’t want to startle you. You just stared at it.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you doubted this could be happening. You didn’t think you’d ever be saved. You thought this could be a trap. Maybe they got him again. Maybe he was just going to lead you to some worse form of training and torture.
But as you looked from his hand back to his eyes, you knew you were right. You could trust him. So you took a small step forward. Then another. Then put your hand in his.
You watched as he let out a breath, shoulders relaxing just slightly, like he was relieved you trusted him. That told you all you needed to know.
“Good, follow me.”
You stepped outside your cell and he stopped, scanning both sides of the hallway. You looked over to the shelf outside the door and spotted your binder. You knew exactly what was in it. Pictures and notes from every training and torture session you did. Along with pictures and notes of the Winter Soldier – Bucky – as comparison.
You grabbed it with your free hand. Not because you ever wanted to see it again. No, you knew you wouldn’t ever open it. But because they would probably have a better chance of shutting this place down with the information in there.
He looked back at you, then the binder in your hands. He reached out with his other hand – his metal one – and you handed it to him, but prayed he wouldn’t open it. You didn’t want him to see his past.
But he didn’t. He just took it from you and guided you down the hallway, half running, moving through a series of turns, until you were outside.
You stopped dead in your tracks the second you stepped out the door. Bucky was still going, but stopped when he jerked back because you weren’t moving with him anymore.
You hadn’t been outside as long as you could remember. You only ever knew that place.
Bucky’s voice cut through your thoughts, as if he could read your mind.
“It’s okay. I know it’s a lot. You might feel like you don’t deserve it, but I promise you do. You can leave this place. You’ll be safe now. You’ll be free.”
He took a step closer to you, still holding onto your hand like he never planned on letting go.
“You’re not alone anymore. Just trust me, okay?”
You took a deep breath. Then took a step forward. Then another. You didn’t speak, didn’t look back. Just held his hand tighter as he led you away from the only life you’d known – and toward the one you thought you’d never get to have.
Summary: When you fall asleep with your head resting on Bucky's metal arm, he starts to realize he's not just a weapon.
Word Count: 1,878
Steve insisted that the group do a team bonding activity, something about not spending enough time together outside of missions.
Which is how you ended up here, on the couch, squished between Bucky and Nat while everyone argued about which movie to watch.
It’s not that you didn’t like the idea of a movie night – you loved watching movies. You were just getting a little overwhelmed with everyone around you yelling, your shoulder awkwardly pressing against Bucky’s metal one, and it was clear Bucky wanted to be anywhere but here, leaning as far away from you as he could.
You and Bucky didn’t interact much, but he didn’t really talk to anyone much other than Steve. You just shared quick greetings and awkward small talk if you were alone in a room together.
So being this close to him for a few hours was going to be interesting.
But when the others finally settled down and decided on a movie, Nat leaned against the other side of the couch, allowing you to shift away from Bucky, just enough so you weren’t touching anymore.
They had picked a fairly new action movie, one you’d seen once before, so you were half-paying attention and half-zoned out.
You didn’t even realize when your eyes started to flutter shut as your body slowly shifted to the side.
Before you knew it, you were asleep – with your head slowly falling against Bucky’s metal shoulder.
--
Bucky stiffened the second he felt her head drift onto his shoulder, her weight light but unmistakable. His spine went straight, eyes wide as if someone had yanked him into a mission briefing without warning.
Of all the places she could’ve leaned – why the metal arm?
The chill of the vibranium pressed against her cheek, and yet…she didn’t flinch. She didn’t move away. She even sighed, soft and content, like this was the most natural thing in the world. His chest tightened.
He stared straight ahead, muscles locked, jaw clenched. His instinct screamed at him to shift, to move her gently off him before she noticed what she’d done. He hated this part – this reminder of what he was made of. What had been done to him. People didn’t lean on weapons. They avoided them.
But then…he glanced down.
She was completely at ease, her features relaxed, lips slightly parted in sleep. One hand curled loosely in her lap, the other resting near his thigh but not touching. There was no hesitation in her body, no discomfort in her expression. Just peace.
She trusted him.
His heart thudded heavily, each beat slowing with the realization. She knew what his arm was, and she’d still fallen asleep against it. Against him.
He swallowed, unsure of what to do. He let out a slow, silent breath, careful not to disturb her, and leaned back just a little more into the couch cushion, letting himself settle.
Maybe he’d let her stay there a while longer.
A few minutes passed before Sam noticed.
He leaned forward from where he sat on the floor and blinked. “Wait a second – am I seeing this right?” he whispered loudly, elbowing Clint.
Clint turned, squinting in the low light. His grin spread instantly. “Holy crap. Is she – yeah, she’s definitely asleep on Bucky.”
Steve looked over and raised an eyebrow. “And Bucky’s letting her?”
Nat craned her neck and smirked. “Not just letting – he’s not moving a muscle. He’s frozen.”
“That’s because he’s malfunctioning,” Tony deadpanned, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Someone call Wakanda, his arm’s about to short-circuit.”
Bucky rolled his eyes but didn’t move. “She’s asleep,” he muttered, voice low.
“On your shoulder,” Sam pointed out, grinning like a kid at Christmas. “You normally flinch if someone breathes in your direction.”
“She’s different,” Clint stage-whispered dramatically. “The Winter Soldier has a soft spot.”
Steve chuckled, clearly enjoying this a little too much. “You okay there, Buck?”
Bucky glanced down at you again, then shrugged one shoulder carefully – not the one you were leaning on. “She’s comfortable,” he said simply. “Didn’t wanna wake her.”
But deep down, under the teasing and the smirks and the popcorn being flicked at his head, he wasn’t actually all that bothered.
In fact, he kind of liked it.
--
The credits rolled slowly up the screen as the final soundtrack played out, and one by one, the team began shifting and standing.
Nat stretched and cracked her neck. “Well, that was two hours of my life I’ll never get back.”
“Better than Clint’s last pick,” Sam muttered, brushing popcorn off his pants.
“You said you liked Mamma Mia!” Clint shot back, scandalized.
Voices layered over each other, shoes scuffed the floor, and someone knocked over an empty cup. The volume in the room rose steadily – but Bucky didn’t move an inch.
Still sitting ramrod straight on the couch, still letting you lean against his metal arm. His jaw tightened slightly as Steve glanced at him again with a knowing smile.
“You gonna stay like that all night, Buck?”
“Yeah,” Clint chimed in. “We should take bets – think she drooled on the vibranium?”
“I’m offended,” Tony said, pointing dramatically. “That arm was designed for stealth, precision, and battlefield dominance – not as a sleep aid.”
“Maybe it’s multifunctional,” Nat deadpanned, crossing her arms.
Bucky just huffed quietly, refusing to take the bait. “She’s still sleeping.”
“Not for long,” Steve murmured, just as your lashes fluttered.
Your body shifted slightly, and your head lifted off his shoulder as you blinked, disoriented. Your hair was mussed, a crease on your cheek from the ridges of his arm, faint but obvious. You squinted around at the group, half-asleep, voice groggy.
“…What’s going on?”
Clint snorted. “Sleeping Beauty returns.”
“You fell asleep on Bucky’s shoulder,” Sam said, clearly enjoying this way too much.
You paused, and then your eyes widened slightly as you slowly sat up straighter, fingers brushing at your cheek as if trying to smooth away the sleep marks. You didn’t say anything at first, just turned to Bucky – who still hadn’t moved – and gave him a sheepish look.
“Sorry,” you said softly, voice laced with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to–”
“It’s okay,” Bucky said quickly, quietly. “Really.”
Something in his tone made you glance at him a little longer than necessary, but before either of you could say anything else, the teasing resumed.
“Look at him,” Sam grinned. “Protective mode activated.”
“This is my favorite team bonding night ever,” Clint said, not even trying to hide his laughter.
“Should we get matching blankets for them next time?” Tony added.
Bucky groaned and ran a hand down his face, but there was no bite behind it. You, now wide awake and thoroughly flustered, could only shake your head as Nat leaned in to whisper, “For what it’s worth, he didn’t move a single inch the whole movie.”
Your face burned, but a small, surprised smile tugged at your lips anyway.
The others slowly filed out of the room, still snickering and tossing back comments as they went.
“Get some rest, lovebirds,” Tony called, tossing a final wink over his shoulder.
“Don’t stay up too late,” Clint added before Steve finally ushered the stragglers out with a tired shake of his head.
You stood up slowly, rubbing your eyes and letting out a quiet yawn. The creak of the couch cushions behind you told you Bucky had gotten up too. You turned back slightly, surprised he hadn’t made a beeline for the exit like he usually did after group events.
You hesitated for a second, then smiled as you looked up at him. “Thanks,” you said lightly, your voice a little shy but warm. “For, y’know…letting me fall asleep on you.” You let out a small laugh, a bit self-conscious. “Didn’t mean to use your shoulder as a pillow.”
Bucky shrugged, hands in his pockets, a flicker of something soft in his eyes. “No problem,” he said. “Just didn’t wanna wake you.”
His gaze flicked to your cheek, and his brow furrowed a little. “Did it hurt? The arm, I mean.”
You blinked, then instinctively reached up and touched your cheek, feeling the faint ridges the metal had left behind. You laughed again, this time more genuinely.
“No, not at all,” you said, still smiling. “It was actually…really comfortable.”
His eyes widened slightly, just for a second.
“I usually can’t fall asleep sitting up like that,” you continued, dropping your hand and meeting his gaze. “But I guess it was comfortable enough to stay asleep, huh?”
Bucky let out a quiet laugh – more like a breath of disbelief – and looked away for a second, trying (and failing) not to let the corner of his mouth pull up into a smile.
People didn’t say things like that. Not about that part of him.
“That’s good,” he said, voice low and sincere. “I’m glad.”
And he was. More than he could say out loud.
You stepped out into the hallway together, the soft hum of the tower’s lights overhead filling the quiet.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Bucky walked just half a step behind you, hands tucked in the pockets of his sweats, eyes flicking to you every so often but never quite landing. You toyed with the sleeve of your hoodie, not really sure what to say either. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable exactly – just full of a weird mix of lingering embarrassment and…something else. Something new.
You were halfway down the hall when you glanced at him and said lightly, “I’m kind of surprised you didn’t shove me off the couch.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “I thought about it.”
You laughed, nudging him gently with your elbow, this time intentionally bumping into his metal arm. “Wow. Honored.”
“That was before you started snoring,” he added deadpan, but there was a playful glint in his eyes.
Your jaw dropped. “I did not snore.”
“I didn’t say it was loud,” he said with a straight face, “just a little pathetic.”
You gasped, swatting his arm with a laugh, and he chuckled – actually chuckled – like the sound surprised even him.
By the time you reached your door, both of you were still smiling, the awkwardness from earlier fading into something easier.
You stopped and turned to face him, hand resting on the doorknob.
“Really, though,” you said, voice softer now. “Thanks again. I…I don’t usually let myself fall asleep around people.” You hesitated, then added with a slight shrug, “But I guess I felt safe.”
That seemed to catch him off guard. His expression flickered – surprise, warmth, something quietly vulnerable.
He cleared his throat and glanced away for a second. “It was nothing,” he said, brushing it off with the same calm tone he used earlier. “You were tired.”
You smiled again, this one gentler. “Still. Thanks.”
He looked back at you then, and the space between you shifted – not charged, not heavy. Just full of something simple. Honest.
“Goodnight,” you said softly.
“‘Night,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting.
And with that, you slipped into your room, the door closing quietly behind you.
He stood there for a moment, staring at the wood grain, before finally turning and walking back down the hall – still not quite sure why he was smiling.
Summary: You and Bucky are good friends, but you didn't realize he knew practically everything about you...
Word Count: 4,779
The conference room was unusually quiet for a Tuesday afternoon meeting. Everyone was already seated – Steve flipping through a tablet, Natasha sipping coffee, Sam looking like he was seconds away from falling asleep with his head propped on one hand.
You were seated toward the middle, elbow on the table, cheek in your palm, staring at the clock.
"Ugh," you groaned softly. "I'm already thirsty. I should've brought water."
Sam cracked one eye open. "Rookie mistake."
You gave him a half-hearted glare. "Thanks, Sam. So helpful."
Then your stomach growled and you sighed again. "I should've brought snacks, too. I have a bag of those garlic parmesan Dot’s pretzels in my room – they’re my favorite. I was gonna bring 'em but I forgot. They would've been perfect right now."
"Garlic pretzels in a closed room? Bold choice," Natasha quipped, smirking over her mug.
"They’re elite. You wouldn’t understand."
Just as you finished your sentence, the door opened and in walked Bucky, casual as ever, looking like he hadn’t rushed at all despite being a solid five minutes late.
"Hey," he said to the room before walking over to your seat.
Without saying anything else, he placed a bottle of water and a Ziploc bag full of garlic parmesan Dot’s pretzels in front of you, then sat down beside you like it was the most normal thing in the world.
You blinked at the items.
So did everyone else.
Steve’s mouth parted. Natasha looked genuinely surprised. Sam sat up straighter, eyebrows raised. Even Tony, who’d just entered behind Bucky, paused mid-step.
You looked at the bag. Then the water. Then at Bucky.
"...You literally just brought me exactly what I said I wanted like ten seconds ago."
Bucky blinked at you. "Yeah? I figured you’d be thirsty – you never bring water to meetings. And you usually get hungry around this time, so I brought snacks."
There was a beat of silence.
And then it hit.
"Oh my God," Sam laughed, pointing dramatically. "They’re not even dating and he knows her snack schedule."
Steve covered a smile with his hand. "That’s...actually kind of impressive."
Natasha leaned forward. "You even brought her favorite flavor?"
Bucky frowned slightly, confused. "Well, yeah. She likes the garlic parmesan ones."
"HE KNOWS THE FLAVOR, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN," Tony declared like a ring announcer. "WE’VE GOT A SOFTIE IN THE WILD."
You buried your face in your hands, cheeks burning. "Oh my God, you guys–"
Bucky just shrugged, annoyingly unbothered. "What? She gets grumpy when she’s hungry."
And somehow that only made it worse.
Or better.
Depending on who you asked.
You hadn’t even opened the bag of pretzels yet. They just sat there in front of you, taunting you while your face turned redder by the second.
And Bucky? Completely calm. Like being a walking encyclopedia on your habits was not wildly incriminating.
That is, until Sam leaned forward with a grin.
"Okay, Barnes. Pop quiz."
Bucky gave him a suspicious side-eye. "Why?"
"Because," Tony chimed in, "you just demonstrated an alarming level of girlfriend knowledge for someone who's allegedly not dating her."
"We're not–!" you started, but Natasha held up a finger to silence you.
"This is more fun."
She turned to Bucky. "Favorite coffee order. Go."
"Caramel iced latte, extra ice."
Your jaw dropped slightly. "That’s–"
"Correct," Sam cut in, smirking. "Alright, alright – shampoo and conditioner brand?"
Bucky didn’t even hesitate. "Pantene – the coconut scent."
You whipped around to stare at him. "How the hell do you know that?!"
He looked at you like it was obvious. "Because your bathroom always smells like coconut. And that one time you stayed at my place after a mission, you complained that I only had 2-in-1."
Natasha bit back a laugh. "We’re logging that for future teasing."
"Okay, okay," Tony leaned on the table like he was hosting a game show. "Let’s make this harder. Favorite snack that's not garlic parmesan pretzels?"
"Peanut M&M’s. But she picks out the brown ones and eats them last because she says they taste the most ‘chocolatey.’"
You slapped a hand over your mouth. "Are you keeping notes somewhere?!"
Bucky just shrugged like it was no big deal. “You talk a lot when we hang out.”
"My heart can’t take this," Steve said, dramatically clutching his chest.
"Mine either," Sam added. "This is some Hallmark level slow burn stuff and I didn’t even know I wanted it."
"Do you know her favorite hoodie too?" Natasha asked.
He glanced at you, then pointed without looking. "That light grey one she stole from me? Wears it three times a week, minimum."
You gaped at him. "...You let me steal that."
"You think I didn’t notice?" he said, and you caught the tiniest curve of a smirk on his lips.
The room collectively lost it.
"Okay, this is criminal," Tony declared. "I’ve seen actual married couples who know less about each other."
"You’re clearly in love with her," Sam added helpfully.
Bucky’s smirk dropped slightly, and for a split second, something unreadable flickered in his expression as he glanced at you – soft, unsure, and maybe a little too earnest.
You froze.
So did he.
And then Natasha cleared her throat. "Well, this meeting is officially a disaster, but I’m emotionally invested now."
Steve gave you both a look. "Anything either of you wanna share with the class?"
You made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan, covering your face with your hands again.
Beside you, Bucky just leaned back in his chair and said, “Can we please talk about the mission now? Before they start planning our wedding?”
But even as he said it, you felt his knee brush against yours under the table.
--
The meeting finally wrapped up after an hour of mission briefings, supply checklists, and Tony trying to convince Steve to let him name the next Quinjet The Iron Bus. Everyone stood, gathering their things, but the tension in the room wasn’t about the mission at all – it was about you and Bucky.
You had barely pushed your chair back before Sam clapped his hands once and turned to Bucky with renewed mischief in his eyes.
"Alright, now that the boring stuff’s out of the way – round two."
Bucky blinked. "Seriously?"
"You thought we forgot? That whole time I was pretending to care about drone placements, I was building a list."
"I was also building a list," Natasha added, already pulling out her phone.
Steve sighed but didn’t stop them. “I mean…I am kind of curious now.”
Tony grinned. “This is the best part of my day.”
You groaned. “Oh my god, guys–”
“Nope,” Sam said. “Too late. Barnes, what’s her favorite candle scent?”
“Vanilla,” Bucky said without pause.
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Okay, but how do you know that?”
“You lit one in my kitchen once. Said it was ‘elite cozy vibes.’”
Tony choked on a laugh. “He even quoted her. This is so real.”
Natasha stepped in next. “Alright – what color does she always pick for her nails?”
“Soft pink. Unless she’s in a mood, then it’s that dark reddish-purple color…what’s it called? ‘Black Cherry?’”
You squinted. “Okay, that’s either creepy or impressive–”
“Impressive,” Sam decided. “Definitely impressive.”
Steve raised a brow. “What about her go-to song when she’s in a bad mood?”
Bucky smiled a little. “idontwannabeyouanymore by Billie Eilish.”
You blinked. “Wait, how do you even know that?”
“You played it on repeat for like four days after that one mission with the HYDRA facility. I asked you if you were okay and you said, ‘I’m fine, I just need to cry and hydrate.’”
Natasha was actually laughing now. “He’s got quotes, too.”
Tony raised a finger like he was conducting an interview. “Okay, Bucky – final round. What’s her go-to breakfast when she’s had a rough night?”
Bucky leaned back casually. “Scrambled eggs with pepperjack cheese, hot sauce, two slices of toast, and coffee with oat milk and a tiny bit of cinnamon.”
Everyone turned to you like you’d just been caught in 4K.
You stared at him. “You remembered all of that?”
He shrugged. “I’ve made it for you before.”
Sam fake-fainted onto the conference table.
“I can’t take this,” Steve said, rubbing his temples. “This is ridiculous.”
“It’s domestic,” Natasha corrected. “And I love it.”
You groaned again and dropped your head onto your crossed arms. “Can the floor swallow me now?”
Bucky leaned over and murmured, “I think they’re just jealous.”
You peeked up at him. “Of what?”
He gave you that tiny smirk again. “That I pay attention.”
You sat up and shoved the bag of pretzels toward Bucky with a flustered laugh. “Here. Take these back. You’ve earned them.”
Bucky just grinned and tossed one in his mouth. “They taste better when I’m right.”
--
Eventually, the room emptied out. Steve wrangled Tony into actually submitting a mission report, Nat headed to the gym, and Sam left muttering about needing a nap.
You lingered, still sitting in your chair, picking at the label on your water bottle while Bucky packed up his notes. The teasing had died down, but your heart hadn’t quite stopped doing somersaults.
He was halfway to the door when you said, softly, “Hey, Buck?”
He paused, looked over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
You motioned for him to come back. “Can I ask you something?”
His brows rose, but he came back over, folding his arms as he leaned against the edge of the table beside you. “You wanna quiz me now?”
“Maybe.” You tilted your head, watching him. “I just wanna see how far this weird…psychic Barnes ability goes.”
He gave a lazy grin. “Alright. Hit me.”
You took a breath. “Okay. Pads or tampons?”
He blinked once. “Both.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Details?”
He scratched his jaw, not missing a beat. “You use the regular tampons most days, but you always keep a pack of those thin pads with the wings in your bathroom drawer – orange wrapper, right? You said the combo makes you feel less paranoid about leaks when you’re out on missions.”
Your jaw dropped a little.
Bucky’s smirk faded, growing a little more serious when he saw your expression. “I wasn’t, like, digging through your stuff or anything. You asked me to grab painkillers once while you were curled up on the couch, and I saw the pack when I opened the drawer. And you mentioned the tampon thing that one time when we got stuck waiting in that safe house for hours and you were grumpy.”
You swallowed. “Okay…uh. Chocolate preference?”
“Milk chocolate when you’re just craving sugar, milk chocolate with caramel when you’re on your period.”
Your cheeks warmed, but you didn’t stop. “When I cry, what do I want someone to do?”
“Sit with you. Don’t talk unless you ask. You like quiet comfort.”
You were fully staring at him now, unable to find any words, so he filled the silence gently.
“I know you get really overwhelmed when you feel like someone’s watching too closely while you’re upset. You hate feeling...exposed. So I don’t stare. I just stay close.”
You blinked fast, chest tightening with something way bigger than embarrassment now.
“Why?” you asked, barely above a whisper. “Why do you pay attention like that?”
Bucky shrugged one shoulder, not meeting your eyes at first. “Because you matter to me. And…when someone matters, you notice things. The important stuff. The things that make them feel seen.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, overwhelmed. “No one’s ever paid attention like that. No one’s ever noticed.”
Finally, he looked at you again. And this time, there was no smirk, no teasing grin – just something quiet and sure in his eyes.
“I noticed.”
After a moment, you smiled faintly. “What’s my favorite place to be when I’m sad?”
“Anywhere I am,” he said without missing a beat.
And this time, you didn’t even try to hide the way your heart skipped.
--
Later that evening, the compound was quieter – mission prep done, sparring sessions wrapped up, and the post-meeting teasing finally done.
You’d snuck off for a hot shower, hoping to wash away the lingering flush in your cheeks from earlier. The Avengers had been relentless, and even though Bucky hadn’t said anything else since the conference room, his words still echoed in your head.
I noticed.
You exhaled under the spray and tried not to think about it too hard.
Meanwhile, in the common room, the chaos was still quietly unfolding.
Tony strolled in with a tablet in hand, looking far too pleased with himself. “Alright, children, it’s that magical time – takeout vote. We've got Thai, Indian, tacos, pizza, sushi, and that weird little vegan place Bruce likes.”
“I swear to God, if you put seaweed bowls on the menu again–” Sam started.
“Focus,” Tony cut him off, tapping the screen. “We’ll tally up votes. Bucky, where’s your girl?”
Bucky, sprawled comfortably on the couch with one leg slung over the side, didn’t even flinch at the phrasing. “Showering.”
“Wow,” Natasha muttered. “Didn’t even blink at that.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “And you’re voting for her too, I assume?”
Bucky nodded, nonchalant. “Two for Indian.”
Steve looked up from his book. “Did she say that?”
“Nope.”
Sam smirked immediately. “So we’re guessing now?”
“I’m not guessing,” Bucky replied evenly. “She’s not in a pizza mood today.”
Tony looked at him like he was a contestant on a game show. “So you're locking in Indian for the both of you. No communication. No signals. No magic powers?”
Bucky shrugged. “Yep.”
“I’m starting a betting pool,” Sam announced, pulling out his phone.
“I want in,” Natasha said, crossing her arms.
“She loves pizza,” Steve reminded. “Are we sure about this?”
“She does love pizza,” Bucky agreed, arms folded behind his head. “But not tonight.”
Sam grinned wide. “Alright, let’s take some bets. Five says she picks pizza. Anyone else?”
Money and pride were quickly thrown around – half the team convinced Bucky’s luck had to run out eventually, the other half wary because…well. It was Bucky. And somehow he just knew things about you.
Five minutes later, you wandered into the common room in fresh clothes, hair damp and rubbing moisturizer into your face with zero awareness of the quiet, expectant tension in the air.
“Hey,” you said casually, “what’s going on?”
Tony cleared his throat, playing it cool. “Just figuring out dinner. Got a few options – Thai, Indian, tacos, pizza, sushi, and Bruce’s vegan sadness bowls. What sounds good?”
You made a face, thinking. “Hmm, not really in the mood for pizza today. Indian.”
The room exploded.
“NO WAY,” Nat yelled.
“Unbelievable,” Steve said.
Sam stood and threw his arms in the air. “THIS IS RIGGED.”
Tony shouted over the chaos, “I CALL WITCHCRAFT.”
You froze, blinking at everyone, confused.
“Did I miss something?” you asked slowly.
Bucky just sat there calmly, like he hadn’t just won the mind-reader Olympics. “Told them you’d want Indian.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you spy on me in the shower or something?”
“Nope,” he said, looking smug. “Just know you.”
The team descended into chaos again – some demanding their money back, others insisting on a rematch next week.
You just grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and chucked it at Bucky’s chest.
He caught it, laughed, and tossed it back. “I’m undefeated.”
--
The food arrived about twenty minutes later, the smell of warm spices and garlic naan instantly filling the common area. Tony called out a triumphant “Dinner’s here!” like he’d made it himself, and everyone swarmed the table to claim their orders.
You padded over a little slower, then Bucky turned from the table and held up a hand.
“I got your plate,” he said casually, already balancing two in his hands.
You paused. “Wait, I didn’t even tell you–”
“I know.” He handed it over without fanfare.
You looked down.
Your favorite combo – chicken tikka masala, a scoop of basmati rice (but not too much), a piece of garlic naan torn in half, some cucumber raita on the side, and a few spoonfuls of that tangy chickpea salad you always liked when you weren’t in the mood for something too heavy.
You stared at the plate like it had been conjured by sorcery.
He turned and headed for the couch like it was nothing, like he hadn’t just read your mind again. And behind you, the rest of the team was once more staring – some with mouths open, others quietly shaking their heads.
Sam muttered, “Alright, I’m starting to believe he’s just a very hot, brooding psychic.”
Natasha leaned toward Tony. “We should run a brain scan.”
Tony looked vaguely offended. “Trust me, I already tried. He’s just…annoying.”
You followed Bucky to the couch and sat beside him, setting your plate on the coffee table before sinking into the cushions.
“You keep doing that,” you said after a second, still looking at your dinner.
“Doing what?” he replied, tearing off a piece of naan without looking at you.
“Knowing what I want. Before I even know what I want.”
That made him glance over. His voice was quiet now, just between the two of you. “Is it weird?”
You thought about it. “It’s…not. I mean, it should be. But it’s not. It’s actually kinda–”
Your voice caught, the word sitting there, unsaid.
Comforting.
Bucky nodded like he already knew.
Then, like he wanted to shift the moment before it got too close to something you couldn’t take back, he leaned in a little with a smirk. “Don’t act too impressed. I just paid attention. And you’re kinda predictable.”
You nudged his arm with your elbow. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I know.” He bumped his knee gently against yours. “Still right, though.”
The rest of dinner passed in a cozy haze – soft laughter, shared food, everyone gradually settling into their usual spots. But the way Bucky’s knee stayed resting against yours, neither of you moving – it felt like something new.
--
A while later, plates were cleaned, takeout containers scattered across the coffee table, and stomachs full enough that no one was in the mood to move much – perfect conditions for the sacred Avengers tradition: movie night.
“Alright,” Tony called out from where he was already draped dramatically over the recliner. “What are our options tonight?”
Okay, we got The Godfather, Jaws, Tangled, Mission Impossible, 21 Jump Street, and John Wick,” Sam read off the screen.
You stood, stretching. “I’ll be right back. Don’t vote without me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Steve said, even though everyone absolutely would.
The second the bathroom door clicked shut, Tony sat up like a meerkat. “Alright. Let’s go. What’s your pick, Barnes?”
“John Wick,” Bucky said, without even looking up from where he was idly spinning the empty naan container on the table.
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Nat whipped her head around. “You’re not choosing Tangled?”
“Nope.”
“She just said the other day that she wanted to watch it,” Nat reminded him, pointing dramatically. “Like, word for word, ‘I wanna rewatch Tangled soon.’ You’re telling me you’re going against that?”
Bucky just shrugged, totally unbothered. “I know what she wants tonight.”
Tony looked at Sam, eyes narrowed. “This is the beginning of the fall of House Barnes. The man’s gotten cocky.”
“I give him one more round,” Sam muttered, already pulling out his wallet. “Five bucks says she picks Tangled.”
“Ten says 21 Jump Street,” Clint called from the kitchen. “I say she’s in a comedy mood.”
“I’m going full chaos,” Nat added, grinning. “Twenty on Jaws.”
Steve, ever neutral, just raised his eyebrows. “You really think she wants an action movie right now?”
Bucky finally looked up. “She’s tired. Mentally wiped. Tangled is comfort, yeah, but she wants to zone out, not cry over animated lanterns.”
Tony blinked. “You’re playing 4D chess.”
“She’s playing checkers,” Bucky replied calmly. “I just know the board.”
The room was a barely contained mess of betting and bickering by the time you reappeared.
You sat back down, cozying up with the blanket you’d left on the couch. “We vote yet?”
“We were just about to,” Steve said, way too quickly.
They went around the room, collecting votes with forced casualness.
Then, all eyes turned to you.
You paused, lips pursed in thought. “Hmm…”
The silence was deafening.
You tapped your chin. “Not really in the mood for Disney right now, actually…”
Someone gasped.
“…Let’s do John Wick.”
The room erupted.
“WHAT?!”
“No way – NO WAY–”
“Check her room for bugs!”
“ARE YOU TWO SECRETLY DATING?!”
Tony was pacing, Sam collapsed dramatically onto the rug, and Nat looked like she was genuinely questioning reality.
Meanwhile, Bucky just leaned back, arms crossed, as calm as ever.
You blinked at the chaos. “Did I…do something?”
“Oh, you did something,” Sam groaned, flopping backward.
“You broke them,” Bucky muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, his voice full of quiet amusement.
You looked over at him, fighting back a smile. “You knew I’d pick it.”
He met your gaze, the ghost of a grin tugging at his mouth. “Course I did.”
And somehow, in the middle of popcorn-throwing accusations and Tony trying to demand a federal investigation, your heart started beating just a little faster.
--
The next morning started like any other: coffee, early training, then hitting the showers.
You stretched your arms behind your head, grimacing. “I’m starving. I want eggs. Like, five eggs.”
“Go shower, Egg Queen,” Sam called. “We’ll save you a spot.”
You flipped him off over your shoulder, already headed toward your room.
Once you disappeared around the corner, the rest of the group started trickling toward the kitchen. Bucky walked in with Steve, Nat, and Sam, still towel-drying his hair, when the teasing immediately resumed.
“So,” Nat said, leaning against the counter with a smirk, “you gonna make her eggs now, Barnes? Scrambled? Sunny side up? Whole omelet situation?”
Bucky gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Would. But she’s not gonna want eggs anymore.”
Steve raised an eyebrow. “She literally said the word ‘eggs’ like two minutes ago.”
“Yeah,” Sam added. “Plural. With intention.”
“She’s gonna change her mind,” Bucky said calmly, reaching for the pancake mix.
There was a beat of silence.
“…You’re kidding,” Clint said, appearing behind them and already suspicious.
“Nope.”
Nat crossed her arms. “Alright. What is she gonna want?”
“Chocolate chip pancakes,” Bucky said, pulling ingredients from the cabinet. “Light layer of peanut butter on top. Not spread thick. Just enough.”
“And syrup?” Steve asked, deadpan.
“Just a little. Thin drizzle over the top, not drowning.”
“Drink?” Sam challenged, narrowing his eyes.
“Chocolate milk.”
At that, no one said anything for a second. They just stared. Nat was already pulling out her phone.
“I’m documenting this. If you’re wrong, I’m sending the video to every group chat we have.”
“Do it,” Bucky said, already whisking batter like a man with zero fear of failure.
Ten minutes passed. Pancakes were golden, peanut butter spread lightly, and the chocolate milk was already poured in your favorite mug.
And then, you walked in, hair damp and pulled back, hoodie sleeves half covering your hands. You opened the fridge, still blinking from the heat of the shower.
“Hey,” Bucky said without turning around. “Want me to make your eggs?”
You stared into the fridge for a beat. “Mm…no, actually. I think I want pancakes.”
The room went dead silent.
You didn’t notice. “Do we have chocolate chips?”
Still silence.
“Oh, and chocolate milk,” you added, pulling the fridge door closed. “You know, that sounds really good actually.”
You turned.
The plate was already sitting on the counter.
Your chocolate milk was already in your mug.
You blinked. “Wait. Did you–”
“Yeah.” Bucky slid the plate toward you with a casual smile. “Figured you’d want pancakes.”
You looked down at it, then back up. “Okay, that’s…insane.”
“I’m used to you changing your mind,” he said with a little shrug. “I listen.”
And then, the room exploded.
“NOPE – NOPE, I’M OUT!” Sam stormed out of the kitchen.
Nat was filming again. “I hate how calm he is. Like he didn’t just perform witchcraft again.”
Steve just looked vaguely disturbed. “I don’t even know my own favorite pancake setup that well.”
You blinked at Bucky again, who was completely unfazed, like this wasn’t the millionth time in twenty-four hours he’d rearranged reality by knowing you a little too well.
You took a bite of the pancake, still warm and soft and perfect.
“…Okay,” you mumbled with your mouth full. “This is actually kinda amazing.”
He leaned against the counter, smug as ever. “Told you.”
--
The others slowly trickled out of the kitchen after breakfast, muttering in stunned tones, still trying to recover. Nat was rewatching her own footage like it was evidence in a conspiracy theory. Tony was threatening to install surveillance.
But eventually, it was just you and Bucky, the clink of your fork on the plate and the hum of the fridge the only sounds left behind.
You took another bite, slower this time. It was still warm.
You glanced at him, leaning back on the counter across from you, arms crossed, looking completely at ease – like this wasn’t the weirdest thing in the world, like he hadn’t just predicted your entire breakfast down to the drizzle of syrup.
“…How do you do that?” you asked, finally, voice soft in the quiet.
He raised an eyebrow. “Do what?”
You gave him a look, the corners of your mouth twitching. “Bucky.”
He smirked a little, then pushed off the counter and walked over to you, grabbing a clean mug and pouring himself some coffee. He didn’t answer right away.
“I just pay attention,” he said eventually, voice quieter now. “That’s all.”
You swallowed the last bite and leaned forward on your elbows. “Yeah, but…it’s more than that. You don’t just notice, like, big stuff. You know all these little things about me. Things most people don’t even think to remember.”
He looked over at you, gaze steady but warm. “Well, most people don’t really look at you the way I do.”
You blinked.
“Not in a creepy way,” he added quickly, a hint of a smile breaking through. “Just…I notice things.”
He sat across from you, wrapping his hands around the coffee mug. “You start craving chocolate when you're stressed. You say you want eggs, but if you’ve just showered, you usually go for something sweet instead. You hum when you’re thinking. And when you’re overwhelmed, you get really quiet – not annoyed, just kind of…floaty. Like your brain’s stuck buffering.”
Your breath caught a little, something fluttering deep in your chest.
“And you always drink chocolate milk when you feel safe,” he added, softer this time. “Not just when you’re hungry.”
You looked down at your mug. You hadn’t even realized that.
Silence fell between you again, but this time it felt heavier – comfortable, but with something unspoken stretched between you.
“…Why?” you asked, finally.
He looked up.
You met his eyes. “Why do you notice all that?”
Bucky didn’t answer right away. He just looked at you for a moment, like he was deciding how honest to be.
Then, in a voice barely above a whisper: “Because you make it easy to care.”
You didn’t say anything.
Couldn’t.
He took a breath, eyes flicking down to the table, then back up.
“I’ve had to watch my back for a long time. I notice things – it’s how I survive. But you…” He gave a quiet laugh, like it surprised even him. “You’re the first person who made me want to notice the good stuff. The small stuff. Just so I could take care of it.”
That flutter in your chest turned into a full-blown ache.
You stared at him, unsure what to say, heart pounding.
But before either of you could say another word, Sam’s voice yelled from the other room:
“Hey, Barnes! If you’re done being a walking love song, can you bring the remote?!”
Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Every time.”
You were still looking at him, a soft smile pulling at the corner of your lips. “You’re kind of a sap.”
He grinned at that, his eyes flicking to yours with a spark. “Only for you.”
And then he got up, grabbed the remote, and tossed a wink over his shoulder before disappearing down the hallway.
Summary: You join the Avengers right before they're torn apart by the Sokovia Accords. You join Cap's team, and end up stuck in a safe house with Bucky, slowly earning his trust.
Word Count: 7,315
You literally just became an Avenger last week, and the team was already falling apart.
You just got into the swing of things, and now the Sokovia Accords were sitting on the table in front of you in the conference room, dividing the team in half.
You had to admit, you agreed with Steve. Not that you would say anything out loud though. You were just sitting off to the side, wishing you could disappear. Which, you probably could. You weren’t sure if half the team even knew your name.
The next couple days were a blur. Everyone was still arguing about the Accords, then everyone had to travel to London for Peggy Carter’s funeral.
After the ceremony, you were milling around in the church lobby, debating whether or not you should go talk to Steve after Natasha was done talking to him. While Nat was walking out, you gave her a slight smile and nod, and she stopped.
“Hey. Y/n, right?”
You paused, surprised that she was talking to you. “Uh, yeah.”
“Are you coming with us to sign the Accords?”
You froze. You knew you couldn’t sign the Accords. You agreed with Steve on this one. But you didn’t want to admit that to her. But you also couldn’t tell her yes, knowing that she’d be expecting you there then.
She noticed your pause and raised an eyebrow.
“Umm…no I don’t think so,” you said finally.
“Have you talked to Steve about it?” she asked.
“No. I was debating whether or not I should talk to him now actually.”
“Well, I think you should. He’ll be happy to know someone else is with him on it.”
You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you just nodded.
She just smiled at you, then looked you up and down.
“You know,” she started, “most rookies probably wouldn’t have the guts to choose a side on something like this.”
You just huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. Guess I chose the wrong time to join, huh?”
“Guess you did,” she agreed, laughing. “I’m glad you did though. I like you.”
You just smiled, feeling accomplished at that comment. “Thank you.”
She gave you a pat on the shoulder before walking away, back towards the others. Then, you took a deep breath before walking back into the church to talk to Steve.
“Hey Steve.”
“Oh, hey y/n,” he replied, smiling at you.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
“I also wanted to tell you that I’m not signing the Sokovia Accords.”
He raised his eyebrows, looking a little surprised. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah, I agree with what you said. I think it’s better if we didn’t sign.”
“You don’t have to agree with me it you truly don’t want to,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I want you to be dragged into this. I mean, you did just join the team.”
“I know,” you said, smiling at him. “But I’m with you on this one. If you need my help, just let me know.”
He let out a relieved breath. “Well, thank you.” He gave you a smile and patted you on the shoulder, looking like a proud dad.
“Well, I’ll see you later,” you said, backing away.
“See ya. I’ll probably be calling you.”
“Alright, sounds good.”
And sure enough, he did call you. Which is how you found yourself leaning out the window of a random car, chasing Bucky Barnes down the highway while the Black Panther was hot on your tail.
You watched as Bucky grabbed a motorcycle mid-motion and turned it around, hopping on and driving in the opposite direction.
You knew he was a super soldier, but that was impressive…and kinda hot.
You trailed after him, and when you were close enough, you didn’t think, just jumped. Out of the car window and onto the back of Bucky’s motorcycle.
He jerked slightly from the unexpected weight, and you wrapped your arms around him so you didn’t fall off. His grip tightened on the handlebars, and he just kept driving like a man with tunnel vision.
“Hey!” you yelled over the wind, leaning forward to speak near his ear. “I’m not here to hurt you!”
No response. He swerved around a car, eyes laser-focused on the road ahead.
“I’m here to help you, okay? Steve sent me!” you tried again, gripping tighter around his waist as the bike took a sharp turn. “You don’t know me, I get it - but you’re not alone!”
Still nothing. Not even a glance.
“I know you don’t remember much right now. I know everything’s a mess. But Steve, he’s trying to help you. And so am I.”
The motorcycle jumped over a curb, dodging traffic like it was instinct. You gritted your teeth and held on tighter.
“I know you’ve probably heard a lot of lies about yourself. That you’re dangerous. That you can’t be trusted.” You swallowed hard, hoping you didn’t sound too breathless. “But I don’t believe that. Steve doesn’t either. You’re not a weapon. You’re a person.”
You caught him flinch at that. Barely. But it was something.
“Just…let me stay on this bike with you. You don’t have to stop. You don’t even have to talk to me. Just let me make sure you don’t crash and bleed out in a ditch somewhere, alright?”
Silence.
But he didn’t shake you off. He didn’t tell you to jump. He didn’t even look back. He just kept going, navigating the streets like he’d been born on two wheels.
You exhaled shakily, letting your forehead rest briefly between his shoulder blades. “There’s a safe house I can take you to, you’ll be safe there. I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
And though he never said a word, something in his body shifted - just barely. His shoulders loosened a fraction. His breathing evened out. And for the first time since you jumped on the back of the bike, he didn’t feel like he was running blind.
After a few minutes, when you made sure you weren’t still being followed and finally figured out where you were again, you started giving him directions to the safe house. He still didn’t say anything, but he followed your directions.
About 20 minutes later, you pulled up in front of a secluded cabin, miles from any other building or town. He pulled the motorcycle around the back of the house and cut the engine, getting off before you had the chance to say anything.
He turned around and looked at you, but you were still sitting on the bike, trying to push the hair out of your face and smooth it down. There was some in your mouth, and you know you probably looked weird to him, sticking your tongue out and spitting, trying to push all your hair back.
You finally got it and stepped off the motorcycle, and his eyes didn’t leave you.
“Hey, sorry about that. I’m y/n.” You thought about putting your hand out to shake his, but decided against it since he probably wouldn’t take it anyway.
“Sorry about like, jumping on you back there. But I’m on a team with Steve, like I said, and this is one of our safe houses. I’ll let Steve know we’re here and he’ll let us know what to do next.”
You gave him a smile, trying to be as friendly as possible. You made your way over to the door, putting in the code you got from Steve, then opened it up and turned back to Bucky.
“Come on in,” you said, stepping in the door. He followed you inside, and you let out a little breath of relief. He may not be saying anything but at least he seemed to trust you.
You scanned the cabin, and even though it was small, it was pretty nice. It looked overgrown on the outside, but they obviously kept it clean and stocked for emergencies.
You sent Steve a quick text, then took off your jacket and threw it over the back of a chair at the tiny kitchen island, then immediately started going through cupboards.
Bucky had stepped inside and closed the door, and just stood a couple steps away from you, watching.
“Do you want something to eat? You’re probably starving.” You came across some cans of soup and held one up. “Do you want some soup?”
Again, he didn’t say anything. Just looked at you.
“Umm…okay. Well, I’ll make you a bowl.”
You grabbed another can, then opened drawers until you found the can opener, then found two bowls. You busied yourself with opening the cans before popping one of the bowls in the microwave. When it was done, you grabbed a spoon and slid the bowl onto the island in front of a chair.
When you turned back to Bucky, he was still standing there, still looking at you.
“There, you can have the first one.”
He finally moved, sitting down in the chair while you put the other bowl in the microwave. When it was done, you sat down in the other chair and took a bite, then noticed Bucky hadn’t touched his yet.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
“Мне не дали разрешения (I was not given permission).”
You furrowed your eyebrows, not understanding what he was saying. Maybe you should’ve studied Russian.
“What? Sorry, I don’t understand Russian.”
He just looked at you for a second, then repeated it in English.
“I was not given permission.”
Your heart twisted at his words. The way he said it – flat, automatic, like it was a rule carved into him – made your chest ache.
You slowly set your spoon down and looked at him, frowning. “Hey…” you said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t need permission anymore.”
His eyes flicked up to meet yours, guarded, unsure.
“You’re not under anyone’s control,” you continued. “Not anymore. You can eat, rest, breathe – live – without asking anyone first. You’re free, Bucky.”
He didn’t say anything, but he stared at you a moment longer. Then, slowly, he gave the faintest of nods. Just once. But it was enough to make your throat tighten.
Without another word, he picked up the spoon and started eating. You didn’t say anything else, just watched him, relieved to see him finally taking care of himself – even if it was just soup.
And he ate fast. He finished the bowl in record time, like he hadn’t eaten in days. You were barely halfway through your own when you looked up and blinked in surprise.
“Wow,” you said, eyebrows raised, your tone light and a little teasing, trying to ease the heavy air in the room. “You really were hungry.”
You caught a flicker of something across his face – so brief you weren’t sure if it was amusement or just a muscle twitch – but it made you smile anyway.
You took another bite of your soup and leaned your elbow on the table. “We’ve got more, if you want it. And I think there’s even coffee somewhere in this place, if you’re the kind of guy who runs on caffeine.”
He didn’t respond, but the silence didn’t feel as tense anymore. It was still quiet, still uncertain, but there was something else now too. A thread of something warmer…something like trust.
By the time you finished the last bite of your soup, Bucky had already set his spoon down and was quietly watching you again, bowl empty.
You glanced at it, then back at him. “Do you want some more?”
He hesitated for a beat, then gave a small nod.
You smiled, standing up and walking over to the cupboard again. “Alright, let’s see…” You grabbed another can of soup, holding it up in your hand before turning back to him. “Do you want me to make it, or…do you want to try?”
He looked at you, eyes flicking to the can in your hand, then to the microwave behind you, clearly uncertain. Like he wanted to say yes but wasn’t sure how.
You stepped a little closer, gently placing the can on the island in front of him. “Totally your call,” you said casually. “But if you do want to try, I can walk you through it. It’s pretty simple. Not super spy-level stuff or anything.”
Still unsure, he looked down at the can, then back at you. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t back away either. So you took that as a yes.
“Okay,” you said, voice gentle. You grabbed the can opener and set it next to the can. “This thing looks more complicated than it is, I promise. See this part here?” You pointed at the blade. “That’s what pierces the top. You just line it up with the edge of the lid and squeeze the handles together.”
He picked it up slowly, awkwardly, like he was worried he’d break it. You helped guide his hand, showing him how to clamp it onto the can.
“There you go. Now just turn the knob – yep, like that.”
The opener made a soft grinding sound as the blade cut through the lid. You smiled, watching him slowly get the hang of it.
“Nice. See? Easy. Way less terrifying than fighting a guy in a catsuit on a freeway.”
He glanced at you briefly, but there was something a little looser in his posture now.
Once the can was open, you slid his bowl over and stepped aside.
“You want to pour it in?”
He did, carefully. You saw his eyes flicker toward the microwave again.
“Alright,” you said, walking over to it. “This part’s even easier. You just put the bowl in, close the door, and press this button here.” You tapped the 1. “Each press adds one minute. Two minutes should be good.”
He followed your instructions, and you stood by him, resisting the urge to hover too close.
“There,” you said once the microwave started humming. “You’ve officially made your first post-fugitive meal. Not bad, Barnes.”
He didn’t smile, but something in his expression softened. Maybe it was the way his shoulders relaxed. Maybe it was how he didn’t immediately retreat from you. Either way, you’d take it.
You leaned against the counter and gave him a small grin. “Told you – you don’t need permission. You just needed soup.”
And for a split second, you could’ve sworn the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
When the microwave beeped, he pressed the one again, making it hum back to life.
“Good job,” you said, giving him another smile as he glanced over toward you again.
When it beeped again, he opened the door and pulled it out, shutting the door again and carrying it back to the counter, setting it down carefully as he sat down.
“There you go. Pretty soon you’ll be cooking five course meals.”
He gave you a small smile – an actual smile – then dug into his soup, eating it just as quickly as the last. You just washed out your bowl then leaned against the counter, watching him eat.
When he finished, he looked up at you.
“Thank you.”
You smiled at him. “Of course.”
You took his bowl and rinsed it out, then turned back to the counter, picking up your phone, finding a text from Steve.
Okay, glad you’re safe. Just stay there for the night, we’ll meet up again tomorrow. Unless you’d rather not be alone with him, then I can come up.
You glanced up at Bucky, who was still watching you. “Steve said we could just stay here for the night. You okay with that?”
He nodded, so you texted Steve back.
No that’s fine, Bucky also said that’s okay. I taught him how to use a can opener so we’re basically besties now
You smiled a little at your response, then set your phone down. “Okay. Do you want to shower? Or take a bath?”
His eyes finally left you, glancing toward the bathroom then back at you, like he was unsure.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Just thought it might help you feel better.”
He looked at you a little while longer, then slowly nodded. “Bath.”
You smiled softly. “Okay, I’ll go start the water.”
You pushed off the counter, heading to the bathroom and turning the water on and plugging the drain. As the tub filled, you made your way to the bedroom, finding extra clothes for him to change into. You grabbed a pair of gray sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt that both looked brand new, then walked back to the bathroom.
Bucky was standing outside the bathroom door now, looking in cautiously.
“It’s okay,” you said, walking into the bathroom and setting the clothes on the counter. “You can come in.”
He stepped inside as you turned the water off, then grabbed a washcloth.
“Here’s a washcloth you can use, and there’s body wash and shampoo here,” you said, pointing to the little shelf in the shower and setting the washcloth on the side of the tub. “Let me know if you need anything.”
He just nodded, so you stepped out, shutting the door behind you.
A little while later, you were sitting on the couch, scrolling on your phone when you heard Bucky say something in Russian, loud enough so you could hear through the closed door. You jumped up and made your way over, knocking on the door.
“Bucky? You okay?”
He was quiet for a beat, then said, “I need help.”
You slowly opened the door, peeking in to see him sitting in the tub, back to you.
“Hey, Bucky. What do you need?”
He glanced over his shoulder at you, looking embarrassed. “My hair.”
You glanced up at his hair, which was still completely dry. “Do you need help washing it?”
He nodded.
“Okay, give me one second.”
You went into the kitchen and grabbed a cup from the cupboard, then headed back into the bathroom, sitting on the side of the tub as Bucky kept his back to you.
“Can you tilt your head back for me?” you asked, dipping the cup into the warm water. He did, and you slowly dumped water onto his hair, careful that it didn’t drip down his face.
You did that a couple more times, then grabbed the shampoo and squeezed some into your hand. You rubbed the shampoo between your hands before gently starting to work it through his thick hair, taking your time so it didn’t tangle.
“It’s okay,” you murmured softly, fingers massaging gently at his scalp. “I don’t mind. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
He didn’t say anything, but his shoulders slowly began to relax under your touch, and you took that as a good sign.
“This stuff smells good,” you added after a moment, trying to keep things light so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. “Citrusy. Kinda reminds me of those little hotel bottles you never want to admit smell amazing.”
You lathered carefully, making sure not to pull or snag any of the strands. It was clear no one had done this for him in a long time – maybe ever. You didn’t rush it. You didn’t want to. You just wanted him to feel safe, even in this small, quiet way.
“Okay, I’m going to rinse it now. Tilt your head back again for me?”
He obeyed, and you slowly poured the water over his head in even, careful streams, watching the suds wash away. You kept your hand over his forehead to make sure none of it ran into his eyes.
When the last of the shampoo was rinsed out, you set the cup aside and used both hands to gently squeeze the water from his hair, starting near the top and carefully working your way down to the ends.
“There we go,” you said softly once you were done, brushing some hair off the side of his face. “All clean.”
You stood up and grabbed a towel from the nearby shelf, setting it on the counter next to the clothes you’d brought earlier. “I’ll let you finish up. Just yell if you need anything.”
As you started to turn, he looked over his shoulder slightly. “Thank you,” he said again – quiet, but sincere.
You offered him a warm smile, your hand gently resting on the doorframe for a second. “Anytime, Bucky.”
Then you stepped out and closed the door behind you, giving him space to dry off and, hopefully, feel a little more human again.
You sat back down on the couch, picking up your phone again. A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened, and he spoke in Russian again, the same thing he said earlier.
“Любимая (darling)?”
You looked up to see him standing in the doorway, dressed in the clothes you left for him. “Yeah?” you said, getting up and walking over.
He held out his towel and pointed at the bathtub. “I’m done. How do I…”
He trailed off, so you took his towel from him then stepped inside.
You hung the towel neatly on the hook behind the bathroom door. “You just have to unplug the drain,” you said, kneeling down beside the tub. You reached in and showed him the small metal stopper. “Just lift this part up, and the water will drain out.”
He leaned over the tub to watch, nodding as the water began to swirl and gurgle its way down. You looked up and gave him a smile. “Easy, right?”
He nodded again, and you stood up, moving to one of the drawers under the sink. You opened it and pulled out a small pack containing a brand-new toothbrush, toothpaste, and a hairbrush. You opened the toothbrush pack and tossed the cardboard into the trash before setting it and the toothpaste on the counter.
Then you turned and held the brush out toward him. “Do you wanna brush your hair? Or – I can do it…if you want.”
He looked at the brush for a moment, then met your eyes. “Can you?”
Your expression softened. “Yeah, of course.” You pointed to the floor in front of you. “Come kneel down. It’s easier for me to reach.”
He hesitated only slightly before kneeling in front of you, back straight but body still cautious, like he wasn’t used to the care being offered. You stepped behind him, gently running your fingers through his damp hair first, untangling a few sections before beginning to brush. You moved slowly, careful not to pull, watching the way his shoulders started to relax again as you worked.
“You’ve got really nice hair, y’know,” you said quietly, brushing through it in long, smooth strokes. “Kind of unfair, honestly.”
That earned the faintest huff of a breath – maybe a laugh – making you smile.
A few minutes later, you finished and set the brush down. “All done,” you said, smoothing down the top once more.
He turned his head slightly, looking over his shoulder at you. “Thank you, Любимая (darling).”
You blinked, your lips curling into an amused smile. “Okay, you’ve said that before. I recognize it. What does that mean?”
He didn’t answer at first, his eyes flickering down before he simply murmured, “It’s your name.”
Your eyebrows lifted slightly. “Oh,” you said, caught off guard. “Well…that’s kinda cool.”
He looked back up and gave you a small smile.
“Well, I’ll let you brush your teeth, then I’m gonna take a quick shower.”
He gave you a nod, then you stepped out and went back to the bedroom to find clothes for yourself. As you pulled out the same sweatpants and t-shirt in your size, your gaze drifted toward the bed…the singular bed.
You frowned, wondering how you were going to approach the sleeping situation. But you decided you’d just sleep on the couch, giving him his space.
You made your way back to the bathroom as Bucky stepped out.
“Knock if you need anything, okay?”
He nodded, and you closed the bathroom door, then turned on the shower.
You showered quickly, then pulled out your own pack to brush your teeth and comb your hair. When you finished, you pulled open the bathroom door to find Bucky sitting on the floor right outside the door.
He stood immediately when you opened the door, his posture straight and alert like he’d been on watch.
You furrowed your brow. “You could’ve sat on the couch, y’know?”
He shook his head. “I was guarding the door.”
Your heart pinched at that. The sincerity in his voice, the way he said it like it was the only thing he knew to do – it made you ache a little.
“You don’t have to do that for me,” you said gently. “But…I appreciate it.”
He just gave a small nod in response.
You gave him a soft smile, then walked over to the kitchen counter and grabbed your phone. “Come on,” you said, heading for the bedroom. He followed close behind you.
You stepped into the room, glancing again at the single bed. “You can sleep in the bed,” you said, turning toward him.
He frowned, eyes shifting from the bed back to you. “Where are you going to sleep?”
You shrugged. “I’ll take the couch.”
He shook his head immediately. “No. You take the bed.”
“It’s okay,” you started, but he said it again, more firmly this time.
“You take the bed.”
You watched him for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Okay.”
You crossed the room and opened the nightstand drawer, rummaging until you found a charger. You plugged your phone in beside the bed, then climbed under the blanket, settling against the pillow with a quiet sigh.
Bucky stood still for a second, then grabbed a pillow off the bed and laid down on the floor beside it.
You sat up a little, brow furrowed. “Bucky?”
He lifted his head, looking at you.
“You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” you said, voice gentle again.
He didn’t answer, just held your gaze.
You hesitated, then asked softly, “Do you want to sleep on the bed with me?”
His eyes flicked to the bed, then back to you. His voice was quiet. “Is that okay?”
You nodded. “Yeah. Of course it is.”
He looked at you a moment longer, then crawled up from the floor, placing the pillow back on the bed. He pulled the blanket up and slid under it slowly, still a bit stiff, still unsure.
You shifted slightly to give him space, and once he settled, you glanced over at him with a small smile. “Goodnight, Bucky.”
He looked at you through the dim light, his voice low. “Goodnight Любимая (darling).”
--
Bucky fell asleep quicker than he expected. The warmth of the blanket, the steady rhythm of her breathing beside him – it had all lulled him into a rare sense of calm. But something changed. A touch. Weight. Movement.
His eyes snapped open, heart hammering against his ribs.
His arm twitched as panic set in, his instincts screaming danger, his mind already preparing to throw off the blanket and bolt.
But then…he remembered.
The cabin. The safe house. Her.
He forced his breathing to slow, blinking as the haze of sleep and instinct gave way to recognition.
Her head was resting on his shoulder. One of her hands was splayed gently over his chest, fingers curled slightly into his shirt. Her leg was draped loosely over his, her body pressed close.
That was all it was. Her.
His muscles relaxed little by little, the tension slowly leaking out of him as he stared up at the ceiling. He could feel her exhale against his skin, warm and soft, and he let out a quiet breath of his own.
She’d rolled over in her sleep. Reached for him like it was natural. Like she wasn’t afraid.
And she wasn’t. That’s what stuck with him.
She wasn’t scared of him. She let him in, helped him, fed him, taught him how to use a can opener for God’s sake, and when he needed help, even if he was too ashamed to ask for it, she didn’t make him feel small. She just helped.
And now she was curled up against him like it was the most normal thing in the world.
He turned his head slightly, looking down at her. Her face was peaceful, relaxed, framed by her hair that was still a little damp from her shower. She looked so soft like this. Trusting.
He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve that.
His eyes drifted back to the ceiling, and he let his hand settle lightly against her arm, careful not to wake her. She shifted just a little, burrowing closer, and he felt a flutter of something unfamiliar in his chest.
Gratitude. Maybe even hope.
He thought about earlier – about the way her eyebrows had lifted, the little smile that played at her lips when he told her darling was her name.
She had no idea.
She didn’t know he’d forgotten her name for a second, which is why he resorted to calling her that. He wasn’t sure why, but it just felt right. So, even after he remembered her name, he continued calling her darling. Not mocking. Not sarcastic. Just…her.
And somehow, even without knowing, she still made him feel like he mattered. Like he was someone worth staying close to.
His eyes closed again, and for the first time in what felt like years, he let himself drift back to sleep – with her weight resting against him, her hand on his chest like a tether.
And in that moment, it felt like everything would be okay.
--
You blinked awake slowly, the morning light peeking in through the thin curtains. It took a second to realize where you were – and another to realize how you were lying.
Your head was resting against something solid and warm…and breathing.
You froze slightly, glancing down to see your hand on someone’s chest. Your leg slung over someone else’s.
Oh no.
You tilted your head up just enough to see his face.
Bucky.
He was still asleep, his face relaxed in a way you didn’t think you’d seen before. His brow wasn’t furrowed. His jaw wasn’t tense. He actually looked…peaceful.
A tiny pang hit your chest, part fondness, part embarrassment. You must’ve rolled over in your sleep, and the last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable. Especially after how careful he’d been last night.
You slowly, carefully turned away, trying not to disturb him as you pulled yourself out of his arms. The bed dipped lightly as you shifted, but he didn’t stir.
Grabbing your phone from the nightstand, you saw a message from Steve, letting you know where to meet. You typed back a quick reply, and just as you hit send, you heard movement behind you. Bucky stirred, shifting slightly on the bed. When you glanced over, his eyes were fluttering open.
“Hey,” you said softly, offering a small smile. “Good morning.”
He blinked a few times before nodding. “Morning.”
You stretched a bit, then added, “Steve texted. We’ll leave as soon as we’re both ready.”
He gave another quiet nod.
You stood and made your way to the bathroom, brushing your teeth, splashing some water on your face, and tying your hair back before changing into your clothes from yesterday.
When you came back out, you paused in the doorway.
Bucky was making the bed.
He’d already straightened the blanket and was adjusting the pillows with slow, deliberate movements, like he was concentrating on doing it exactly right. Like it mattered.
A soft smile tugged at your lips.
“Thank you,” you said gently.
He looked over his shoulder at you, gave a small nod, then stepped around the bed and headed into the bathroom to get ready himself.
You watched him go, heart tugging again.
A few minutes later, you were putting the charger back in the drawer when you heard footsteps behind you. You turned around and saw Bucky walking back into the bedroom.
He had changed back into the clothes from the day before, but his hair was still a complete mess – sticking up in the back and flattened on one side from sleeping. You couldn’t help it, you let out a quiet laugh.
“Your hair’s still a mess.”
He paused, looking at you for a second before raising his hand and running it through his hair like he could fix it with one swipe.
You just smiled. “Do you want me to brush it again?”
He looked at you for a beat longer, then gave a small nod. “Yes.”
You stepped past him into the hallway. “Come on.”
He followed you into the bathroom, and you held up the brush from last night. “Can you kneel down again?”
Without hesitation this time, he did.
You gently ran the brush through his hair, taking your time. He stayed still, his eyes closed this time as if he trusted you completely. It was quiet again, but not uncomfortable. Just calm.
When you were done, you gave one last soft brush through the ends and said, “All done.”
He stood slowly and looked at you. “Thank you Любимая (darling).”
You smiled and nodded, keeping the brush in your hand as you led the way back into the bedroom. You crossed over to the closet and pulled down a worn book bag from the top shelf, unzipping it and carefully placing the brush inside along with the clothes you both wore last night. Once it was zipped, you slung it over your shoulder and turned toward him.
“You ready to go?”
“Yes.”
You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, gave him a quick smile, and headed for the door, grabbing your jacket on the way with him right behind you.
He slid onto the motorcycle first, settling in as he started the engine. You climbed on behind him, wrapping your arms around his middle without hesitation. He glanced back once, as if to check you were ready, then pulled out of the driveway.
The road ahead was quiet, long stretches of forest blurring past as you rode. After everything the last day had thrown at you both, it felt…peaceful. You didn’t say much – just held on, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath your arms.
Eventually, you met back up with Steve and Sam, just before leaving to meet Sharon so they could get their suits back. It wasn’t long before the four of you loaded into a small getaway car, the tight space forcing a slightly awkward arrangement.
When you got there, Steve got out to talk to Sharon, leaving you, Bucky, and Sam in the car.
Sam was in the passenger seat, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Bucky was right behind him in the back seat, and you were on the other side.
Bucky stared out the window for a moment, clearly irritated by something. Then he glanced forward.
“Can you move your seat up?” he asked Sam flatly.
“No,” Sam replied, just as flat.
You tried not to smirk. The tension between them was almost comical at this point.
Without another word, Bucky shifted over toward the center seat – right next to you. The car wasn’t exactly spacious, so as soon as he moved, his leg pressed against yours.
He didn’t shift away.
And neither did you.
Your eyes flicked down briefly at the contact. It wasn’t exactly intentional, but it also didn’t feel accidental. You glanced up at him. He was still staring forward, impassive, but his jaw wasn’t quite as tight as before.
The warmth from where his leg touched yours lingered, feeling almost comforting.
You didn’t say anything. Just let it stay that way.
Before you knew it, you arrived at the airport, pulling up beside Clint and Wanda before they opened the back door for Scott. He greeted everyone, then when he got to you, standing behind the car with Bucky, he paused. “Uhh, I don’t know who you are but…hi.”
You gave him a smile before everyone started to suit up, preparing for the fight to come.
After some fighting and a weird encounter with the new spider-kid, you, Steve, and Bucky were finally making a run for it toward the jet. Wanda was holding the debris up so you could get inside, but it came crashing down as soon as you were running in.
Something slammed down behind you, grazing your back and knocking you to the ground with a grunt.
From in front of you, you heard Bucky call out to you. “Любимая (darling)!”
He was beside you in an instant, arms already reaching out to you.
“I’m okay,” you managed, breathless but unhurt. “Just got clipped – didn’t crush me.”
He helped you up quickly, his metal hand firm around your waist as he checked you over with his eyes, panic still evident in his face until he saw you truly were okay.
You got up and continued into the hangar, but Natasha stood in front of you, blocking your path to the jet with a sharp look in her eye. But there was something else flickering there. Amusement?
She tilted her head. “What did you just call her?”
You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“Did he just call you Любимая (darling),” Nat repeated, arching a brow.
You glanced sideways at Bucky, confused. “Uhh, yeah? He said that’s my name in Russian.”
Nat smirked. “Uhh, no. That means darling.”
You stared at her, blinking again. Then slowly turned to look at Bucky.
He didn’t deny it. Didn’t even flinch. Just looked back at you with a calm, almost gentle expression, like he wasn’t the least bit sorry about it.
Nat let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “You’re something else.”
Then, she turned toward Steve with a more serious expression.
“You’re not gonna stop?”
Steve’s voice was calm, steady. “You know I can’t.”
Nat just shook her head. “I’m gonna regret this,” she muttered, before shooting past you and stopping T’Challa.
She yelled go, so you, Steve, and Bucky bolted past her toward the jet.
Your chest heaved as you reached the ramp, Bucky’s hand catching yours to pull you up the last few steps. He didn’t let go until you were safely inside, then the hatch closed behind you.
The rest of the day passed in a blur – arriving in Siberia, finding Zemo, the fight with Tony. Then, a few days later, you were in Wakanda with Steve and Bucky. Bucky was in the bathroom, changing into something more comfortable before they put him back under.
You were sitting down, talking to Steve about what came next, when the bathroom door opened behind you.
Bucky stepped out in white sweatpants and a white tank top, but what really caught your attention was his hair.
Messy again.
You turned in your chair, unable to help the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. “Your hair,” you said, grinning at him. “It’s all messy again.”
Bucky blinked at you, then gave a small, warm smile like he’d been expecting you to say something. “Yeah?” he said casually. “Think you could brush it for me?”
You didn’t need to be asked twice. “Yeah, I got you.” You reached into the duffel bag you’d packed, then pulled out your brush.
Without hesitation, Bucky stepped over and knelt down in front of you, facing away, relaxed and still, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Steve’s eyebrows lifted. “Uhh…that’s new.”
You laughed, brushing Bucky’s hair carefully and gently. “It’s not the first time.”
Steve blinked. “Obviously,” he muttered, eyes still flicking between the two of you, looking both amused and confused. Then, with a crooked smirk, he said, “Do I wanna know what all happened in that safe house?”
You chuckled under your breath. “Let’s see…I taught him how to use a can opener, how to make soup, washed his hair, brushed his hair–”
Bucky turned his head slightly and cut in smoothly, “–and then she fell asleep on me.”
You froze, mid-stroke, eyes going wide. “Wait – you were awake?”
He turned around enough to look up at you with a lopsided smile. “Yeah, I woke up when you rolled over. I’m a light sleeper, y’know.”
Your mouth dropped open. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry–”
He shook his head, still smiling. “Don’t be. I slept really good.”
Steve snorted, then started laughing. “You two are unbelievable,” he said, shaking his head.
You just smiled and kept brushing, cheeks warm.
But Steve wasn’t done. “And Bucky,” he said with a knowing look, “can we talk about how you called her darling like it was nothing?”
You paused again, heart doing a little flip as Bucky glanced back at Steve, clearly caught but not really bothered.
“Oh,” he said with a small shrug. “Yeah. I…kind of forgot her name for a second. But she smiled when I said it. So I just…kept calling her that.”
You laughed, a little breathless at how casual he was about it.
Steve, of course, wasn’t letting him off that easy. “Right, forgot her name but remembered ‘darling.’ Classic Barnes move.”
Bucky didn’t respond. He just leaned back into your touch, visibly relaxing as you resumed brushing, his eyes slipping shut like the teasing didn’t matter at all.
You didn’t say anything either – just smiled down at him as your fingers moved gently through his hair.
After you finished brushing his hair, you were standing off to the side with Steve, watching as Bucky moved through his final checks. The decision had been made – the safest path forward was for him to go back under, until Wakanda could fully undo what Hydra had done to his mind. You knew it was the right call. But that didn’t make it any easier.
Bucky walked over to Steve first.
They didn’t say much. Steve pulled him in, clapped a hand on his back, and held on a second longer than usual. Bucky returned the gesture silently, with a small nod that said thank you and take care and see you later all at once.
Then he turned to you.
You didn’t expect it, really – not the way his arms wrapped around you the second he reached you, pulling you in tight. Your breath caught, and for a second you just stood there, surprised by the intensity of it. Then your arms found their way around him too, holding him just as tightly.
He didn’t let go.
“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low beside your ear. “For everything. For taking care of me.”
You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat forming fast. “Of course,” you said softly.
He pulled back just a little, enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your shoulders. His eyes searched your face for a second longer than necessary – like he was trying to memorize it – before he gave you the smallest, softest smile.
“Goodbye, Любимая (darling),” he said gently.
Your heart stuttered.
You didn’t speak for a moment. Just returned his smile, warm and a little sad. “Goodbye, Bucky.”
He gave your arms a small squeeze, then turned and walked toward the chamber. You didn’t look away until the glass door closed in front of him.
As Shuri initiated the sequence, you felt the weight of the moment settle into your chest. You’d only known him for a couple of days. Barely long enough to call someone a friend, let alone anything else. But somehow…he’d left a mark already.
And when his eyes fluttered shut, and the lights in the chamber dimmed, the thing that hit you hardest wasn’t the goodbye.
It was the silence that followed.
You already missed him.
And you knew that you were going to miss being called darling, too.
