When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Summary: After a mission gone awry, Bucky finds himself on your doorstep in the middle of the night.
Words: 5.3K
Fluff, fluff and fluff and a lil bit of angst. Classic hurt/comfort and friends to lovers
Through the darkness, there's a knock on your bedroom door, so soft, so cautious, that if you hadn't already been half-awake, you're not sure you would've caught it.
Legs quickly swung over the side of your mattress, you stop and focus at a fixpoint in your moonlit room.
According to the big mission schedule hung in Steve's office, you should be the only one at the compound, so you cannot for the life in you figure out who would rap on your door at 3.30 in the morning, but it wasn't just something you'd imagined because there it is again. A knock, not much louder than before, but definitely there.
For a brief second, your foggy brain ponders that it's likely someone who's been sent to kill you in the dead of night, but before you've even reached for your bedside Beretta, rationality reminds you that they probably wouldn't have had the curtesy to knock first - and then it dawns on you.
"Nat," you sigh with a roll of your eyes and let your bare feet hit the floor while you rub the sleep from off your face. It's not the first time she's forgotten the lock combination to her room after post-mission drinks.
Slowly, you walk across the cold floorboards and over to the wooden door where you can hear ragged breathing from the other side of the wall. Hand lazily pulling the door open, you start talking before you've seen who's on the other side.
"It's only four digits and you're panic breathing?" you chuckle but is immediately taken aback when you're not met by Natasha but instead by your best friend. "...Buck?"
He's back from his mission a day earlier than you'd expected and you're just about to crack a witty comment on how you'd told him that Sam couldn't stand to be alone with him for more than thirty-six hours, but then you notice the state he's in.
His entire body is slumped over as he clutches his right arm tight to his chest, eyes droopy and blank, cheekbones dotted by freckles of soot and framed by thick strands of auburn hair caked in dried blood. "Doll," he breathes painfully and takes a step closer, looking only mildly relieved to see you.
"Buck!" you hiss in fear and grab both his cheeks, but his dirty face just drops further, and he can't even look at you though you're standing mere inches apart.
"I know it's late," he mumbles with his gaze downcast, "but can I come in?"
It's as if you don't hear him clearly enough to respond. His voice is under water and at the same time layers above you while you're far too concerned with every look of horror splashed across his handsome face, your hands frantically clutching his bloodied cheeks as you desperately search his eyes though he still won't look at you. "What happened? Where's all this blood coming from?"
"It's - it's not mine..." he croaks with a small shake of his head.
Fear ripples through your entire body one more time and you can barely speak as you imagine the worst possible scenario that might have caused Bucky to behave like this. "Is it... Sam?" you whimper with tears already burning in your eyes, fighting the urge to throw up.
"He's fine," Bucky quickly interrupts with a small nod, "I dropped him off at his girl's place twenty minutes ago," he croaks and finally looks up at you, his eyes more broken than you've ever seen them before. It makes your heart crack in two. "Sweetheart, can I please come in?"
"Oh god," you pant anxiously and reluctantly let your fingers slide off his cheeks as you step to the side and finally let him inside your bedroom. "Yes, yes of course you can come in."
Immediately, he's on your bed, his face buried in his vibranium hand as the pads of his fingers start rubbing circles over his dusty forehead.
"What happened?" you barely manage to croak as you sit down beside him and carefully place a hand on his rigid thigh. "Last time I heard from you, everything was going according to plan."
"I don't want to talk about it," he gulps and starts rubbing his face even more agitatedly, looking over at you with an apologetic look on his face. "- not right now... I just had to see you. I'm sorry I woke you up."
You grab his vibranium hand and bring it down to his lap to get him to stop his frantic movements and he immediately squeezes you tight, letting out another heart-breaking sob.
"It's okay, Buck. I'm glad you're here."
Over the last year, you've seen Bucky on his darkest days a handful of times, and he usually has the same look on his face, but this time, it's different. It's deeper. Despondent and morose, the anger that's usually posessing him om the bleaker days replaced by a different kind of sadness.
Something really bad must've happened...
"Do you wanna sleep in here tonight?" you ask, unsure how to tackle this the best way possible if you don't want him to shield himself off in his room the way he usually does when he's not feeling his best. He shouldn't be alone under any circumstances.
You're half expecting him to protest, but to your surprise he starts nodding, relieved. "Thank you," he whispers and squeezes your hand tight again.
You make an attempt at a comforting touch as you brush over the soot on his cheeks, making a strand of dirty hair dipped in dried blood fall from his forehead. "You want a shower? I can draw you a bath."
He nods again.
"Come on, love," you say quietly and watch as he gulps hard at the sound of the tender pet-name that you've been wanting to call him for months now but haven't had the guts to say out loud until it accidentally slips past your lips. Surprisingly, you're not even embarrassed by yourself. You suppose there are more important things to worry about than an accidental profession of love in a moment of gentle affection.
Bucky seems taken aback too, frozen, and full of wonder, but he shakes it off and lets you pull him to your small bathroom, accepting your fluffiest towel without a word as he continues staring at you.
"I'll be just outside, okay?" you say reassuringly as you turn on the water in your bathtub, making sure it's the right temperature before putting in the drain stopper.
He's still looking at you with huge eyes, flesh arm clutched to his chest while the fluffy white towel gently supports his elbow. You silently wonder if he's hurt but before you can ask him, he speaks.
"Can you... stay?" He asks quietly, biting his inner cheek, unsure if his request is too much.
Still, it's your turn to be taken aback. You and Bucky are close but not like that.
"Stay?" you instinctively furrow your eyebrows, "while you shower?
He immediately clenches his jaw shut and shakes his head while small patches of pink appear on his cheeks underneath all the dirt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
"No, no it's okay," you quickly stand up from your position by the tub spout so you're once again levelled. "- I was just surprised, that's all," you want to smack yourself for making him doubt himself. "Of course I'll stay."
Ice blue irises slowly find yours while the rose tint of his lower lip is being pulled between his teeth. "Are you sure?" he hesitates while sucking in some air, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."
"You're not," you touch your hand to his sternum to underline your words and watches as the crease between his eyebrows slowly reduces as he gradually relaxes under your touch. You can't help but think that even through all the dust and the grime, he looks incredibly beautiful.
"Let me give you some privacy," you unwillingly let go of him and turn away so he can undress in peace.
From behind you, you can hear the ruffle of his tac pants being pushed down his legs before the belt buckle clangs loudly against the tiles of the floor. It's followed by a series of loud painful grunts and hisses a few seconds later.
"Are you okay?" you ask and turn your head to the side, careful not to look directly at him as to not break the trust he put in you when he asked you to stay. "Buck?"
"Yeah, sweetheart," he sighs in embarrassment behind you, "it's just... do you think you could... help me?"
You turn around slowly to find him standing in the middle of the bathroom still wearing his torn t-shirt and Kevlar vest, bare-legged in boxer shorts and black socks pulled high up on his calf while his pants are lying crumbled on the floor beside him. He's awkwardly shifting the weight between his two feet, still clutching his right arm tightly. "It's my elbow."
Immediately, you furrow your eyebrows and walk over to him, taking his right hand in yours. "Yeah, I meant to ask you earlier. What happened?"
He doesn't answer but just silently lets you examine the swelling and black-purple skin that's half-hidden underneath dust and blood.
"Shit," you breathe and hear him give out a sharp hiss when you turn his arm over so you can examine the other side, "Buck, I think your elbow's torn."
"Me too," he gulps, "- I heard it snap."
At the mere thought of the sound, a wave of nausea hits you square in the chest and your stomach starts to churn. You can feel the tang of acid push up on your tongue when you imagine the pain he must've been enduring - still is enduring - but you fight it relentlessly and eventually manage to swallow down the bile. You should be taking care of him, not the other way around.
"We should go down to the infirmary," you say and keep your gaze firmly placed on the purple bruising, so he doesn't notice your discomfort. "I know it probably won't take too long to heal with the serum and all but just to make su-"
"Sweetheart," he gulps from above you and it makes you stop mid-sentence. "Not tonight, okay? I just wanna stay here tonight."
You look up at him, about to protest, but the words quickly die in your throat when you notice the look he's wearing. He's begging. Anxious. Heavy-hearted.
"Okay," you reluctantly agree and carefully let go of his arm while he sends you a grateful look. "Come on, let me help you out of this," you say quietly in defeat and unstrap his vest beneath his ribs, pulling the Kevlar plates over his head while he groans loudly.
"Ah!" he hisses and clutches his elbow tight, squeezing his eyes shut when you try and pull his t-shirt over his head. "Fuck!"
"You good?"
"Mm-hmm" he hums displeased with lips pressed so tightly together they're forming a thin, white line. "Just get it over with."
You pull on the hem again so the dark fabric rides up his stomach, revealing scarred skin pulled tight over the bulging muscles you've spent so many warm summer days discreetly staring at. "Can you reach your arms just a little higher?" you ask and watch how his diaphragm heaves in small electric shocks when he cannot control the loud gasps that escape his throat.
"Fuck me!" He hisses and squeezes his eyes so tightly shut that his entire face pales. "Just rip the damn fabric off," he hisses angrily, "I can't extend my fucking arm."
"Are you sure you don't wanna get it checked out in the med wing?" You let go of his t-shirt and look him deep in the eye, hoping your concerned gaze can convince him that it'll be worth the trip just to get your jumping nerves under control.
"Just... get me out of this thing," he sighs in defeat. "Cut it open, I don't care."
Disinclined, you dive down in the drawer underneath your sink, pulling out a small flat-legged scissor that came with a roll of gauze you bought last year when you had a nasty wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. "Are you sure?" You look up at him as you put the blade underneath the hem of his t-shirt.
Through the fingers you have placed over his chest, you can feel how his pulse quickly falls again when your eyes meet.
"S'just a t-shirt," he mumbles quietly while nodding, "I'm sure..."
Though you want to stay in this position forever, you slowly look away from him and down at your hands as your hesitantly start cutting, careful not to pierce Bucky's flesh with the sharp scissors.
The blade runs through the fabric like a hot knife through butter and you can feel every tense muscle that the edge of the scissors encounters as they travel over his warm stomach and chest. It makes the blood roar in your ears as more and more skin is revealed underneath your fingertips.
Concentrated on not hurting him even more, you keep your gaze firmly placed on his heavily panting chest as you cut open the front of his black shirt and carefully peel the fabric off his bruised arm until he's standing in front of you in nothing but black boxers and socks, his left hand carefully reaching out for yours as if to comfort both of you.
You've seen him bare chested several times before, but it's never been in this close proximity, never been this intimate, just the two of you holding hands and looking each other deep in the eye as you silently try to assure the other that everything is going to be okay.
"So..." you clear your throat, embarrassed by the fact that you have to hold yourself back from leaning forwards, planting a small kiss on his dusty cheek. "- I take it you can shimmy your way out of those on your own, right?" You nod down towards his boxers and he blinks as if he's just woken up from a trance.
"Yeah," he nods and lets go of your hand while the pink patches make a reappearance on his face.
Slowly, you turn around facing the running spout in the tub to the soft sound of cotton hitting the floor behind you. Involuntarily, you give out a gulp and flusteredly grab the box of bath salts just to give your shaking hands something to do. You cannot believe that your extremely fuckable best friend is standing naked in your bathroom no more than two feet away, begging you to stay close to him.
Eyes still firmly placed on the water in the tub, you point over your shoulder to the rainfall shower in the opposite corner of the bathroom. "You wanna rinse off first?"
"I better," Bucky hesitates behind you. "Don't you think?"
"It'll be a much nicer bath if you do," you awkwardly clear your throat.
"Yeah, you're right," he sighs and turns on the shower, immediately stepping inside and closing the glass door behind him so you can finally breathe freely again.
Through the mirror above the sink, you can make out his naked silhouette behind the matte glass and how the tension in his shoulders first tenfolds and then completely disappears the minute the water turns warm and he relaxes. He lets his forehead fall forwards so it's pressed up against the cold tiles while the water runs over his defined shoulders and down his sculpted back, and you literally have to force your eyes away from him and the shape of his handsome torso.
With your gaze fixed firmly on the fuzzy bathmat at the foot of the shower, you hear the sound of your bath gel being opened, followed by a series of painful grunts as Bucky desperately tries to lather himself with the soap.
"Fuck," he mumbles quietly and before you've even voiced a single word of concern, he continues. "Sweetheart, I know it's a lot to ask..." he says a little louder, the embararssement still evident in his voice, "- but I'm gonna need a little help in here... it's - it's this damn elbow," he sighs, "I'm useless. Can you...?" his voice trails off and the question hangs thickly in the air between you.
He wants you to join him.
To wash him.
Take care of him.
The thought alone makes you nervous, you have to admit, but he needs your help and you're willing to do anything for him.
"Give me a minute," you gulp and strip down to your panties, pulling on the bra you wore earlier so you're not completely bare in there. Several times, you've dreamt of you and Bucky naked together, but not like this - never like this - and you'll be damned if the first time he sees you without a shred of clothes is because he needs help and not because he needs you.
With your pyjamas neatly folded on top of the toilet seat cover, you take a final look at yourself in the mirror, brushing your hair out of your eyes before nervously reaching for the shower door with shaking hands.
He's still standing with his chiselled back towards you, letting the water rinse over his dirty hair and down between his shoulder blades with a slightly pinkish hue. "I'm so sorry about this," he mumbles uncomfortably and hands you your loofah behind his back. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."
"Come on, Buck," you say as you dribble a little soap on the sponge, fighting the urge to let your gaze run all the way down to his thick thighs. "Don't beat yourself up, you know I'm always here for you."
"Still," he mumbles and goes silent as the loofah gently runs over his tense shoulders and traces down his spine.
The white soap bubbles work magic on his dirty skin and you make sure not to leave out a single square inch of his scarred backside as you wash him while fighting the urge to wrap your arms around his torso, telling him how glad you are that he not alone came home, but also that he came to you seeking help instead of barricading himself in his room. It seems significant that he's here, as if something's changed between you though you cannot put your finger on it.
Completely lost in thought, you accidentally run the loofah a little too vigorously over his right tricep, sending shockwaves down his broken bone and resulting in a painful hiss falling from his open mouth.
"Sorry," you mumble, and scrub down his lower back, this time more careful with your movements though there aren't any dirty or bloody spots left on either side of his spine. "There we go" you conclude quietly when you realise that the rinsing water has finally lost its pink and grimy hue. "Turn around," you ask and hope he cannot hear the nervousness straining your voice. No matter what, you're not looking down.
Bucky seems just as jittery about his compromising position as you do, and he slowly spins around, revealing pink cheeks and heaving pecs, his gaze glued to the ceiling as he looks as if he's ready to fling himself off the nearest cliff. "God, sweetheart," he mumbles and breathes hard, "I'm so sorry for all this."
"Bucky, come on - what'd I tell you?" you touch the loofah to his chest, careful not to look anywhere than at the sponge itself as it traces over his collar bones and down his handsome stomach.
He merely sighs and stands completely still while you rinse the crevices between the metal plates over his left clavicle, careful not to move his torso so much he hisses in pain again.
"...You're a good friend," he mumbles after a few focused minutes where you've carefully been scrubbing the gold-plated lines in the vibranium, "- I ever tell you that?"
"All the time," you smile genuinely for the first time since he knocked on your door earlier that evening. If there's one thing you can count on, it's that Bucky Barnes appreciates you more than anything.
"I mean it," he says, "never doubt that."
You look up into his eyes.
He looks so soft and innocent as he stands before you, face finally clean, wet hair sticking to his forehead while he professes his love for you. Even if it's just platonic, it makes your heart skip a beat.
"I know, Buck."
"Good," he nods and blinks a few times with heavy, wet lashes framing his cerulean eyes. The air between you is thicker than ever and for a brief moment, it looks as if he's about to lean in and kiss you, but you break the tension by looking away. You don't want to take advantage of his vulnerable state no matter how badly you want that kiss.
"You ready for the tub?" You ask him in a weirdly shaky voice.
He nods while an almost inaudible sigh escapes his lips. "Yeah," he says and turns off the water, quickly exiting the shower before you can take notice of the disappointment burning on his skin.
You dry your feet on the small fuzzy mat, carefully watching Bucky's naked backside as he tests the temperature in the tub by dipping his toe in the water before stepping over the porcelain edge, sitting himself down.
Immediately, he gives out a content sigh, and drapes right arm over his chest, supporting his broken elbow with vibranium fingers, and you finally deem the situation safe enough to approach him again.
"Want me to wash your hair?"
"Mmh" he hums with closed eyes, immediately more relaxed now that he's covered by water. "I don't deserve you."
You grab your shampoo bottle and push out a decent amount of liquid, pressing it to his warm scalp to the sound of an alleviated sigh falling from his lips as you carefully start massaging it into his roots.
"Does that feel good?" you ask through a smile.
"Yeah, sweetheart," he groans quietly, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter awake, "- feels amazing."
You're slowly lathering shampoo into his long hair, enjoying the feel of him underneath your fingertips, how his soft hair slips through your hands while also trying not to think too much about the kiss you robbed yourself of in the shower. You can hear how his breathing slowly steadies and you think that maybe he's in the early stages of sleep but then he unexpectedly heaves a deep breath -
"You know... I haven't been scared of death for a long time," he says so sudden, so seriously that you're immediately brought out of your trance as your every muscle freezes at his austere tone of voice. "I used to not care if I lived or died but... tonight didn't go as planned," he swallows thickly and you can see how his jaw tenses up as his voice becomes husky, "- they... had me."
"What?" you pant with mortification, your every skeletal muscle paralysed as your breathing picks up. You don't have to ask him who he's talking about.
"Sam and I, we were so sure of ourselves," he shakes his head with his gaze fixed on the wall straight ahead. "We thought had the perfect plan... I - I'm such an idiot, nothing ever runs smoothly with Hydra."
You can feel your heart thumping in your throat. "What happened?" You whisper.
"Sam was on the look-out while I got the hard drive," he mumbles, "it was so easy. It didn't even take me five minutes before I was heading back towards the safehouse," he gulps, "- of course it was an ambush. I should have realised the minute I set foot inside that building."
"You couldn't have known," you whimper softly and stroke his scalp, but he doesn't listen.
"- I thought I was..." the words drown in a heavy sigh, and he stares blankly into space while blinking the tears away.
"Buck," you whisper and can feel the pain radiating from every fibre of his entire being when you wrap your arms around his wet torso and hold him close to your chest.
"They took me to a room. Strapped me down," he takes a ragged breath, and you hold on to him even tighter, "I was sure that was it. I never thought I'd find myself home again."
"You're home now," you whisper and softly kiss his shoulder, hoping that he doesn't feel the tear that lands on top of his clavicle. "You're home now with me."
"I know, sweetheart," he leans into your hug with a sigh, "trust me, I know."
"Everything's gonna be alright, love," you whisper against him and stroke your hand over his hair, "it's you and me against the world, always."
"You and me," he quietly confirms and leans back into your chest with a deep breath.
You continue stroking him over the hair, hold on to him for dear life, not willing to let go as you feel him relax more and more in your arms until he starts snoring slightly, finally warm and safe in your embrace.
"Buck, come on," you instinctively kiss him right below his ear, "you're sleeping. Let's get you into bed."
"Sorry," he mumbles groggily and lets his head fall back against your shoulder. "m'just so fucking tired. Been up thirty-six hours..."
"We'll talk tomorrow," you kiss him again and unwillingly unwrap yourself from around his chest, standing up straight beside him. "I'm not going anywhere. Promise."
He's looking up at you with puppy eyes, gaze slowly travelling down your body and up again as if he hadn't realised you were in your lingerie until that exact moment. "You look beautiful," he says quietly and you half-expect him to laugh it off, but his face stays serious.
"...Thanks," you croak while handing him the fluffy towel, not sure how to react to his sweet words. He's called you many things, but he's never downright called you beautiful before.
"I can take it from here, sweetheart," he nods slowly and steals one last glance down at your body, "you just go to bed. I'll be in in a minute."
"Okay," you whisper and peel yourself away from the tension between you by swiftly turning around, exiting the bathroom.
Back in your room, you barely have time to get out of your wet underwear and put on a fresh set of pyjamas, before a boxer-clad Bucky joins you on the bed.
"Are you still okay with me staying the night?" He asks, nervously.
"Of course I am," you answer immediately and find his vibranium hand underneath the covers, lacing your fingers between his as you scan his weary features. "See if you can get some sleep, okay? You need it," you brush a strand of wet hair away from his face and make sure he's fine by gently cupping his cheek before closing your eyes, hoping he's following your lead, doing the same.
The dark room goes completely quiet for a few minutes where the only audible sound is of your synchronised breathing.
You can feel yourself grow impossibly tired too as you lie there hand in hand with Bucky, and you're just about to succumb to sleep, when suddenly, his quiet whisper breaks the silence.
"I thought about you," he says softly, and it makes you open your eyes again.
You're staring straight into his handsome face, his beautiful blue eyes scanning over your features as he slowly clarifies.
"When they had me strapped down, I thought about you," he moves his fingers against the palm of your hand and completely engulfs you. "The thought of not seeing you again was..." the words die in his throat, and he looks as if he's seconds away from whimpering. "- Sweetheart, you make me so afraid of dying."
You breathe hard with quivering lips, huge eyes matching his as you let his confession sink in.
"I was so desperate to come home, I snapped the restraints in half. Snapped my own elbow along with them," he winces slightly at the painful memory that once again makes your stomach churn. "Sweetheart, I fought like hell. I don't think I've ever been so angry... I - I killed everyone I could get my hands on, I just had to see you again," he brings your hand to his soft lips and kisses the delicate pulse point of your wrist.
"Buck..." a slow whine escapes your throat as you try to blink away a stubborn tear that slowly starts rolling down the side of your nose.
"I love you," he whispers so softly against your thin skin that you almost don't hear. His eyes are closed and he looks relieved to be lying here with you, so you carefully pull his hand to your chest, placing his vibranium palm above your heavily beating heart.
"I love you too."
"Sweetheart," he whispers above you and moves his hand a little on top of your soft pyjamas while lightly shaking his head with a sigh. "No, you don't understand..." he gulps and searches your face, "I love you."
Your breath hitches in your throat.
"- I want more than this," he slowly admits. "I want to be more than your friend. I'm in love with you."
You squeeze his hand and move a little closer to him, scared that he'll stop confessing his love if you say something to throw him off track.
He holds on to you and can feel how your pulse starts racing underneath your pyjamas. "I hope I'm not scaring you off."
"No, no you're not," you say in a hoarse voice, "not at all. I - I think about you all the time."
"You do?" He breathes hard, clearly not believing what he's hearing.
"Yeah," you merely nod and move your head a little closer to him while he does the same. "I'm in love with you too, Buck. Have been for quite some time."
With a serious look, he moves his hand from off your chest and up to your face where he brushes a finger over the delicate features of your cheekbone and down to your jawline. "I'm gonna kiss you now," he warns in a whisper and waits for you to give him a nod before he reaches his head forwards, finally claiming your mouth with his lips.
His hand snakes down the length of your spine and you press your entire front up against his hard chest and stomach while he caresses the small of your back, slipping his soft tongue inside your mouth. "God," he moans and gently grabs hold of your hips, pulling you impossibly close to him. "You make me feel whole again," he whispers against your skin and kisses a small line from your earlobe and down to the base of your clavicle. "What do you say sweetheart?" he mumbles and nibbles at your skin, "can I take you out?"
"Yeah, Buck, you can take me out," you squeeze his hand, and he smiles for the first time that evening, setting everything inside of you aflame.
He's finally smiling and it's because of you.
"I wanna do it the old-fashioned way," he says, beaming, "bring you flowers. Take you dancing. Show you how you're supposed to be treated."
You can't help but chuckle at his soft innocence. "You're an old man," you brush him over his hair, "nobody goes dancing anymore."
"I'll teach you," he chuckles back but lets it turn into a sharp hiss when he accidentally moves his broken elbow.
"That sounds lovely," you admit with a smile, excited at the prospect of having his hands on your hips while he tells you what to do, "- though I'm afraid we'll have to get that elbow sorted first if you want to manoeuvre me around on the dancefloor. I know you don't see the point in going but... med wing tomorrow morning?"
"Okay," he rolls his eyes with a laugh that makes your stomach go all warm and fuzzy. "If it gets me to go dancing with you just an hour earlier, it's worth the trip... Will you go with me?"
"Yeah, I'll go with you," you kiss his hand, and he chuckles so warmly your stomach lights up again. "I'll go with you always."
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers' little sister
Summary: When Bucky barges into the Rogers apartment, the last thing you expect is him asking you how to braid your hair.
Word count: 1.3k
Other: No use of y/n. Not a lot of obvious pining, but cute friendship dynamic.
Author's note: lmk about any positive or critical feedback you might have! <3
I threaded another stitch through… wrong. Again.
“Ugh, shiii…”
Steve turned on his heel and raised a condescending eyebrow at me from the kitchen. “Margaret Mae, language!”
I scrunched my nose at him, raising my hands defensively, the little half-knitted scarf dangling down.
“Hey, I didn’t say it all the way!”
Steve shot me yet another disapproving look before resuming his cooking. I mimicked him under my breath in a small, shrill voice. “Margwet Mae, wanguage…”
I kept at my scarf at a decent pace, fixing a mistake here and there. Suddenly I heard the heavy creak of the front door, followed by the sound of it slamming shut. Steve and I whipped our heads in unison toward it. A worn out Bucky Barnes shot into the main room, panting hard. He set his hands on his knees to take a breath. Fixing his posture, he attempted to ruffle down his disheveled hair, but to no avail.
“I need help.”
“Is everything okay?” Steve asked, his brows furrowed together. He walked towards Bucky but the brunet shooed him away and began scuffling towards me.
“No, no. Mags, I need you.”
I raised my eyebrow.
“Becca said I couldn’t do it, and she even said she’d give me two dollars if I could learn by tonight. My ma is out of town, and–”
Woah, woah, slow down. Shh.” I waved my hands in Bucky’s face to get him to shut up. “What on earth are you talking about? Learn what?”
“To braid hair.”
I cocked my head, staring him down. “Jeez, I thought someone had died or something. Why is this such a big deal?”
“Because Becca and I were talking to this girl in my neighborhood, Claire—you know, Claire Malloy from school—- and they ended up talking about all of these things that boys don’t know and how boys are sometimes stupid. It was weird. And then they bet I couldn’t braid a girl’s hair. Now you know I take my bets very seriously, so I told them I would learn by 4pm, and they agreed to give me two whole dollars if I did.” He took a moment to breathe. “So… can you teach me really fast?”
My eyebrows high, still processing all that, I glanced over across the couch at the small clock on the bookshelf. I threw my arms in the air. “Bucky Barnes, it’s 3:45!”
He half-shrugged a shoulder with a sympathetic look. “Yeah, but… listen, I’m a fast learner!”
“Well, I don’t know if I’m the fastest teacher.”
“Are you kidding? You’re a fantastic teacher! We’ve just gotta get going, like, now.”
I stared at him for a moment longer. “Alright.” I rubbed my temples. “C’mon, go on and sit on the couch.”
Bucky quickly obeyed and clasped his hands together in his lap. I took a seat on the carpet right in front of him, crossing my legs. I skillfully removed the few pins in my hair, releasing my updo in a swirl falling down my shoulders.
I reached behind me to hold my hair and still let Bucky see. “To start any average braid, you begin with splitting it into three parts, like so. Next you always start with a side piece, not the middle.”
“Does it matter which side?”
“Nope, you just pick one.”
“You should do left.”
I chuckled. “Alright, I'll do left.”
I crossed the left piece over the middle. “See what happened? Now that left piece is now the middle, and vice versa. So all you do is do the same thing but on the other side.” I crossed the left piece over the middle. “Do you see what’s happening?”
“Yeah.”
“So now tell me what I do next.”
“Uh… do you just start over? Like left piece–” He tapped my fingers holding the left piece, “--over the middle again?” He tapped my fingers holding the middle.
“Yes, that’s exactly it. Now watch. I’m just gonna keep on going.”
I continued my braid, holding it up a little higher and slowing down in some moments to give Bucky a clear look. He watched silently.
Once i finished, I reached out to grab a ribbon sitting on the coffee table and i laced it around the end. I held up my braid.
“See? That’s it.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Wow, Becca and Claire really think lowly of me, huh?”
“Well, now you’ve gotta try it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “... On my hair?”
I snorted, then quickly covered my mouth, snickering. “Sorry. Yes, on your hair Buck. No! Yours is like three inches long. Practice on my hair, dork.” I undid the ribbon, unwound my braid, and let my hair fall again.
Bucky silently watched. I glanced back. “Well, for starters you have to touch my hair if you want to braid it.”
“Oh right, sorry.” He hesitantly but gently took my hair in his hands. I could feel him lightly stroking it between his fingers. “Your hair’s soft.”
“... Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Silence enveloped us. His hands felt soothing...
Gathering my wits, I glanced at the clock. “Hey, we’ve got seven minutes. What’s the first step?”
“Um three separate pieces.”
“Right.”
Bucky split my hair and I could feel him fumbling around, trying to keep them separate. He began moving it around.
“Wait! How did you make it look so easy?! Hold on, I thought I would have no problem with this!”
“Yeah, the hardest part is probably figuring out how to get your fingers comfortable with holding and moving three parts of hair without letting them mix.”
“No, no, I can do it. Just… gimme a sec…” He continued braiding.
After three more minutes of muttered curses and restarting twice, Bucky reached over my shoulder and made a crabby crab hand gesture. I handed him the small ribbon as he murmured a thanks.
He twisted the braid all around, inspecting it. “Hey, I don’t think it looks half bad…” He said nervously.
“Oh dear… Hey, Stevie, come judge Bucky’s braid.”
Steve had meandered into the parlor at some point and he poked his head out from behind the corner. “You called?”
“Yeah, hurry, come over here.” I waved him over toward us.
Bucky held up my braid for him to see. “I did it myself! Please tell me it’s not too bad.”
Steve took a sip from his cup of coffee. “It’s not too bad.”
Bucky pumped his fist in the air in silent celebration.
I scoffed. “Wow, that was convincing.”
“Hey,” Steve said, shrugging. “I just said what he wanted to hear. It doesn’t look too hot, Buck. You might wanna practice a few more times.”
All three of our heads turned to eye the clock. 4:57. Bucky put his head in his hands in defeat and groaned. “Becca’s never going to let me hear the end of this.”
“Hey!” I turned and got on my knees to shake his shoulder. “We’re not giving up! We’ll run over to your neighborhood and your brain will connect all the things I taught you on our way there.”
“I don’t think that’s how brains work—woah!” I took his hand as i stood up and began walking, forcing him to straggle along with me. “Stevie, wanna join?”
“Ha, you know I do.”
“Alright! Alpine, we’re coming back with two dollars!” I pointed a finger at the white cat sleeping on the couch, as if that would get the message to her.
Bucky huffed. “Sure we will…”
“Hey, have a little faith!” I pushed him out the door, Steve behind me, and we all began sprinting toward his neighborhood.
Bucky began laughing and glanced at me. Steve looked at us both. We all shared a look and both grinned, bursting out laughing as we ran, my messy braid bouncing on my back.
• One person draws a completely random, obscure doodle (ex. A line with zig zags, a swirl). Then pass the notebook to the next person and they have to incorporate that doodle into their own drawing. No erasing og doodle allowed! Once done, that person draws their own random doodle and passes to the next person to draw.
I play with my friends when we need to pass time and it's always a hit!
summary: steve, maggie (rogers), bucky, and rebecca (barnes) visit the movie theater to watch the latest film. when bucky offers to pay for concessions, becca and maggie use it to their advantage.
other: kind of bucky barnes x steve rogers' sister but overload on cute sibling moments and cute best friend moments.
word count: 1.6k
author's note: i'm happy to receive any critical or positive feedback! lmk
"maggie, hurry up! we're gonna be late."
"coming!" i flattened out my skirt, took one last glance in the mirror, and snatched my purse from the vanity before i left my room.
steve was leaning on the wall by the front door, his arms in his pockets, feet crossed. he teased a smile. "jeez, my clothes are going out of style."
i opened the door and bounced down the concrete steps. i called behind me, "they already are."
steve laughed when he closed the door, locking it behind him. i waited patiently on the sidewalk.
"ouch," steve joked as he met me. we walked side by side, easily matching each other's steps.
the sun created fluttering shadows through the trees lining the street. i could smell the sweet pollen in the air from the newly springed blossoms.
steve and i chatted, making conversation about anything and everything: spring, the neighbor's cat, my latest annoying customer at the diner, steve's new boss, meal plans for the week.
we made it further into town, and i suddenly gasped. "oh, shoot! i forgot to bring the milk inside!"
"i got 'em. while you were still getting ready. they're in the icebox."
"thanks," i said, relieved. steve gave me a reassuring smile.
we continued our walk, finally arriving at our destination. above the entrance stood the wide sign whose bold letters read SHOWING NOW: THE WIZARD OF OZ (AIR CONDITIONED!).
i looked around, small crowds of people gathering at the doors, but my eyes searched for two specific faces. "are we early?"
steve lifted his wrist up to check his watch. "only by a couple minutes. they said to meet at 6:45, right?"
i hummed as i rested against the brick wall of the movie theater. steve casually paced around the sidewalk. more people passed, making their way to the line at ticket booth.
i spotted a small baby held in his mother's arms as she waited in line. he had his own chunky hand in his mouth, slobber dripping down his chin. I chuckled to myself when we made eye contact. i wiggled my fingers in a wave and smiled brightly. the baby cooed and started bouncing up and down in his mother's arms.
laughing, i turned around. "hey, steve, look over---"
steve, his back to me, was waving his hand above his head. i peered past him and caught sight of two dark haired figures walking our way. i grinned.
"took you long enough!" steve shouted.
bucky let out a laugh. "well, this is a first. the rogers siblings are early?" bucky landed a firm pat on steve's shoulder as rebecca came striding over to me, clasping me into a tight hug.
"mm, you smell good," she said.
it's the perfume i got from you. last christmas. finally using it after all these months."
"job well done, honey. and that explains it. i do have great taste," she said, smirking.
i glanced over at steve and bucky, in the middle of conversation. i pounced in between them both and stuck out my hand for bucky.
he paused mid-sentence and a grin broke across his face. bucky took my hand... and we began our handshake. fast paced, we clapped our hands together, dragged them down, bumped elbows, spun around, and finally shook hands once again.
"still got it," bucky said, beaming.
"i was afraid you'd forget it after weeks of not seeing each other."
bucky scoffed, "me? never." he smiled smugly.
becca called out, "hey, we should probably hop in line if we want a shot at good seats."
the four of us moved our little group into the line. bucky made his way in front of the rest of us, wallet in hand. "it's on me," he said, pulling out a dollar bill.
"yesss," i whispered to becca, rubbing my hands together. she giggled.
steve piped up, ever the financially-independent brother. "no, no. maggie and i can pay for our own. it's alright."
"i insist," bucky said kindly.
"hey, bucky, how's about some treats too?" becca asked innocently, though she sneaked a wink at me.
the man in the booth handed bucky four tickets. "sure, when we get inside, go and get whatever you want." i saw bucky's eyes catch. when i followed his gaze, i found a pretty, young woman waiting alone by the doors.
bucky gave us our tickets and began walking toward the girl. "i'll meet you guys there in a bit." steve patted bucky on the shoulder and thanked him as he passed.
my excitement dwindled down to disappointment watching him walk away. i internally kicked myself, logically knowing this was standard for him. but it still hurt. but... why?
maybe because these last few months had been different. his pursuit in girls lately made for more frequent late night visits to steve, who found bucky tired and heartbroken every time. he hides it around me and becca, i know he does. it hurts because i don't want him to hurt. because he's my friend. nothing else.
yeah. that's it.
becca, unaware of my inner monologue, ignored bucky's distraction much better than i did, her being used to his frequent interest in ladies. she turned to me with a sly look. i burst out laughing, my chest instantly feeling lighter.
becca whispered, "'i'll order sweets, you order salty." the two of us secretly exchanged a knowing smile. i nodded.
"wait, turn around, beck. i can see a pin in your hair." i swiveled her around by her shoulders and worked on tucking the pin into her soft updo. "there. you're a beauty."
"thanks. god, i hate when my hair does that. they just slip out."
"it wasn't terribly obvious, but i figured you'd rather have it hidden completely."
"you're a real one, mags," she said dramatically, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. i laughed, resting my head on hers.
steve, becca, and i walked inside and approached the concessions counter. steve took a step to the side. "you girls wanna go first?"
"thanks, said becca. we observed the options displayed in the class case, both of us giddy with mischief.
"more in quantity or more in variety?" i asked becca.
"oh, definitely variety."
i looked up at the attendant and prepared myself by clearing my throat. "excuse me, could i get a bag of pretzels, lay's chips, a medium bucket of popcorn..."
the attendant grabbed the items from the backside of the display case. his bored expression gradually morphed into wariness as my list continued and his hands worked faster and faster trying to keep up.
"... and... some peanuts."
the attendant eyed the mound of snacks on the counter and tossed the last bag of peanuts on the top. "uhh... will that be all ma'am?"
becca took one big step forward and, with her effortlessly stunning smile, declared, "hi, we're together. could i please have a hershey's chocolate bar, a snickers, two lollipops, a kitkat..."
the attendant's eyes widened and he frantically snatched the snacks as becca went on and on.
steve tugged my arm and pulled me aside. 'what are you two doing?"
"hey, bucky said---"
"c'mon, you're just being mean to him by this point."
"it's not mean. he'll be grateful!"
"that you're making him spend a fortune on candy?"
"we'll share!" i said as if it were obvious, failing to hide a smirk.
steve groaned in frustration as becca finished her ordering.
"... and just a baby ruth."
i returned to becca's side and snickered as i beheld our plethora of concessions.
noticing steve, the attendant asked, "and for you, sir?"
steve's eyes locked on the pile on the counter like he was afraid of it. "... i'm alright, thanks."
the attendant pulled out a paper bag and began counting the snacks as he loaded them, muttering quietly to himself.
i glanced at becca, who donned a proud expression. she said, "this could last us for weeks!"
"exactly!" I exclaimed.
steve stepped in front of the counter. "i'll pay." he glanced back at the two of us, clearly annoyed.
right as steve took his wallet out, bucky appeared beside him, a hand on his shoulder.
"forget it, pal. i already told you. my treat."
steve stepped back and held his hands up in defense. somehow, he made it look sarcastic.
the snacks finally in the bag, the attendant looked bucky in the eyes, deadpanned. "your total is two dollars and fourteen cents."
bucky's easy smile vanished as his jaw dropped. "good god, how much food did you guys get?"
without delay, becca snatched the close-to-bursting paper bag, then my hand, and we took off down the hallway, laughing. behind me, i heard steve mimic my words from earlier. "we'll share."
becca and i couldn't stop giggling as we headed for our theater room. an employee greeted us in screen 3 and punched a hole in our tickets. i led the way, searching for our seats in the dim lighting. we awkwardly squeezed past the legs of other movie-watchers and sat down. becca rifled through our bag and handed me a kit kat.
"you know me too well," i said, ripping open the packaging.
becca leaned back into her seat and plopped a handful of m&m's into her mouth. "this is the life," she said as henry fonda advertised a new brand of cigarettes on the big screen.
i spied bucky and steve making their way to our row. becca mouthed the words thank you to them once they came closer. she and i simultaneously lifted our legs to let them pass and when bucky walked in front of us, he whispered, "i am never paying for you two ever again." he sounded serious, but his upturned lips and smothered laugh said otherwise.
as he passed becca, he flicked her in the arm. "and you stinker, i know this was your idea."
she shoved him in return.
once the boys sat down, becca wordlessly took two 3 musketeers from the bag and passed them to me, who i then passed to bucky. bucky eyed me for a second, two seconds, before plucking them from my hands and giving one to steve. the boys, almost in perfect sync, opened their candy bars and took a bite.
the opening credits began on the screen, blanketing the room with a dozen of shades of colored light, and the instrumental score began its crescendo.
bucky kicked my foot with his shoe. "fine, i forgive you," he said. he ruffled my hair gently, but not enough to make it frizzy. just enough to make me playfully push away his arm. he knew i hated it when he messed up my hair.
i whispered to him, feigning casualness, "so you got a date?"
he looked at me confused. "huh?"
"with that girl outside."
"oh, right. nah, she's not my type. for the three minutes we talked, i learned that she swears in nearly every sentence she speaks, has a rotten breath, and she's rude to ticket attendants."
"wow, you sure know how to spot a good one," i said sarcastically.
he rolled his eyes, seemingly embarrassed at the fact that he was interested in this girl at any point. "not my best run." he nudged my shoulder. "besides, i'd take the pleasure of your company over anyone else anytime."
"don't tell steve, he'll get jealous," I teased.
"he has a right to," he said, smirking at me like we shared a secret now.
his soft blue eyes pierced through mine and i had to reel myself in. "oh, shut up and watch the movie, you idiot."
Bucky chuckled and sunk into his seat, fixing his eyes to the screen. I was grateful the opening scene wasn't technicolor when the dark lighting hid my warm cheeks.
