Bucky was only supposed to be gone for a few months. He was supposed to fight, then come back home. Home to me. He didn’t. But fate has a funny way of working out, and seventy years later, nothing makes sense anymore. The only thing that does is that Bucky is still my home.
Pairings: Bucky x Fem!OC
General Tags: BuckyxOC, Lovers to Strangers to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, No use of y/n, POV First Person, Bucky Barnes uses Doll as a Pet Name
Words: 1.4k
Chapter 1 on AO3
ONE ★ TWO
Chapter 1: Never Not
Violet's POV
Finally, the Avengers complex to myself. With the team out on a mission, I was finally able to enjoy a bit of time to myself without their eyes constantly tracking my every move. Well, as free as I can be with JARVIS still keeping tabs on me.
There’s a bit of time before they return, so I rush down the stairs, humming to myself, with one destination in mind—the kitchen. I've been craving a sweet treat all day, and I’ve been thinking about making brownies for weeks, but I've never had a moment when the kitchen would be empty.
Just as I turn the corner, I see him. Grumpy as ever, glaring as usual.
“Oh, umm- hey…” I stutter, my excitement of having an empty kitchen gone, a heavy atmosphere falling over us. And all I get from him is a single eyebrow raise. I don’t need anything else to know he’s asking me what I’m doing here, and that he’s evidently annoyed.
“Sorry, I didn’t think there was anyone still here. I thought you—well, everyone, really—was out. Doesn’t matter. I’ll leave you to…” I never really know what Bucky does. He tends to just… be there, “carry on with whatever it is you are doing.”
As I’m turning to leave, my mind already working to make new plans on what I can do today, he interrupts my thoughts.
“Wait, Violet,” his voice, low and gruff, making me turn back to face him. Something so familiar, but feels so foreign at the same time.
Before I can do anything, he gestures to the empty chairs at the kitchen island next to where he is sitting.
I should say no. I should make up any excuse. Tell him my fish just died and I need to hold a very elaborate funeral and mourn the loss of Sir Goldie the Third- Yeah, no, who am I kidding? I don’t have a fish, and he knows that.
I bite the inside of my cheek as I head closer to the kitchen island, taking a seat furthest from him, which, considering how big the kitchen is, isn’t very far and only allows one seat between us.
His gaze lingers on me for a moment, giving me a quick look up and down, and his eyebrow raises. Instinctively, that makes me look down at myself. Now, whether he gave me that eyebrow raise because of my mismatched pyjama top and shorts or because of my choice of seat, I’ll never know. But either way… rude, much?
He reaches out for the whiskey bottle sitting in front of him, finishing the remaining liquid in a single large chug.
“Could’ve saved some for me,” I murmur sarcastically. I’m not really expecting a response from him, maybe a glare or a grunt—that’s all he seems to be giving me these days. But when I see the faint smirk pulling on his lips, I’m almost proud of myself.
Bucky sets the empty bottle back down onto the table, his eyes never leaving mine. “Maybe if you asked nicely, I would’ve shared it with you.”
I raise a brow at his words. ‘Nice’? Seriously? He’s telling me I should be nice. “Oh, really? And why would I have done that for an almost empty bottle of whiskey?”
The corner of his mouth twitches up, clearly not expecting a sassy comment from me, but he’s amused nonetheless. “You know, I remember you being a lot sweeter.”
“Well,” I sigh, standing up from my seat, walking around the kitchen island to a cupboard where Tony keeps his alcohol. “Clearly, things have changed, and you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” I grab two glasses from another cupboard and pour us each a glass, sliding one over to him.
I notice the way Bucky’s smirk falters slightly, but I choose to ignore it and pretend that I didn’t notice.
Bucky’s fingers wrap around the glass, bringing it up to his lips. “Being a brat isn’t going to get you very far,” he mumbles into the glass before taking a sip.
“Well, it’s gotten me this far, and I’d like to see how far it’ll get me.” I walk back around the kitchen island. But instead of sitting back in the seat I was in earlier, I take the one directly next to him, significantly closer than I was before. Why I chose to sit that close to him, I don’t know. Should I sit this close to him? Absolutely not. But it’s Bucky, and he always makes me do irrational things, hence why I’ve been avoiding him for months, ever since I’ve been brought to the compound.
His eyes follow my every movement. His smirk returns, and he turns to face me full on. I am painfully aware that our knees are almost brushing against each other, but his words catch me off guard. “Be careful what you wish for, Violet. Your words might come back to bite you one day.”
Before I get a chance to respond, there’s a commotion in the hallway outside the kitchen. It doesn’t take a genius to know that the rest of the Avengers have returned from whatever mission they were assigned.
There goes my free time.
I shuffle my stool back from Bucky, creating more space between us, just before Steve and Tony walk in. “Hey, Steve. How did your mission go?”
“Not bad. It was just a quick job. Probably would’ve been quicker if Tony wasn’t adamant about making a show of everything,” he grumbles, giving Tony a pointed look.
Tony gives an unamused scoff in response to Steve’s words. “I do not 'make a show of everything'. I just make sure we look cooler and keep everything more exciting. Wouldn’t want Barton falling asleep halfway through the mission, now, would we?”
Steve rolls his eyes at Tony’s sarcasm, clearly losing his patience after being stuck with him all day.
“And what are you two up to?” Tony asks, completely ignoring Steve’s eye roll, looking between me and Bucky instead. “I wasn’t aware you two knew how to communicate with one another.”
I can feel my cheeks heating at Tony’s words, and quickly get up from my seat to grab two more glasses. “Just having a drink. Care to join?”
Steve raises an eyebrow, unamused and knowing that there must be something more to it than ‘just a drink’. “At eleven in the morning?” Steve asks, whilst Tony responds at the same time with an enthusiastic, “absolutely.”
As I pour Tony and Steve a glass each, Tony brings the empty stools closer together into a circle. I don’t doubt that it was intentional because the chair they left for me is closest to Bucky. So close that my side presses against his. My posture is stiff, and from what I can tell, Bucky’s also uncomfortable. But then again, he always seems to be somewhat uncomfortable with me. So much so that he usually makes excuses to never be in the same room as me. Today seems to be the exception.
The three of them talk amongst themselves, but I zone out almost immediately. I take small sips of my drink despite knowing it won’t do anything to me, and sit silently as they talk. My mind is a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. This is the first time I’ve touched Bucky since we were last together. Properly. First time since the 1940s, before everything went to shit. Back when it was ‘Bucky and Violet.’ Back when it was simply us. Back when we were perfect for each other and we weren’t broken.
I feel overwhelmed. This is too much: being around Bucky, pretending that there wasn’t a history, pretending that there isn’t something. I abruptly stand up, placing my drink down onto the kitchen island with more force than necessary, causing all eyes to turn to me.
“You alright, Katniss?” My focus snaps to Tony as he calls me by that nickname. He gave it to me, saying something about my aim and my personality being ‘prickly’. I still don’t know who ‘Katniss’ is to this day.
“Yes, perfectly fine.” The words rapidly stumble out of my mouth, and I hate that Bucky is the cause of that. “Just had an- umm… idea for a- uhh… project. I’m just going to… head down to the lab.” I quickly turn, leaving the kitchen to hurry down to the lab, needing as much space from them—Bucky, more specifically—as possible.
CHAPTER TWO
End Notes:
I have never written before, and I have no idea what I’m doing. English and creative writing have never been a strong point of mine, but I've had so many ideas in my head, and I really want to learn and improve my writing.
Unpopular opinion: As much as we all love calling Joel Miller 'daddy,' given his history with his own daughter, he'd probably never actually support that in real life
