Stone Cold
Bucky Barnes x reader (cuddle for warmth, friends to lovers)
Snow wasn’t supposed to be part of the mission. Switzerland, yes, mountains, altitude, a little cold, but not this. Not a storm that swallowed the sky whole and turned the world into nothing but blinding white. You could barely even see ten feet ahead of you, your breath sharp in your lungs as the freezing wind cut through every layer you had. “Visibility’s gone,” you called, though it felt useless; the storm seemed louder than your voice.
Ahead, Bucky didn’t stop immediately. He rarely did. He just kept moving, steady and relentless, like he could outwalk the weather itself. Then, finally, he turned, eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the conditions. The wind tearing at his clothes.
“We keep moving,” he said.
“And walk straight off a cliff?” you shot back, your patience thinning with the temperature. “We need shelter.”
There was a pause, brief, but telling. Bucky wasn’t used to stopping. But even he could see it now; the storm had turned too dangerous to carry on.
“…Fine,” he said. “We find cover.”
That was as close to agreement as you ever got.
The cold crept in slowly at first, almost unnoticeable beneath the adrenaline. Then it settled deeper; first it spread into your fingers, then your legs, then your chest, until finally every step felt heavier than the last. You stumbled once, your boot catching in the snow, and before you could even react, Bucky’s hand was on your arm, steadying you.
“Focus,” he said.
“I am,” you muttered, though your voice lacked its usual bite. “I just can’t feel my hands.”
His grip tightened for a second, not that you could feel it. “Stay close.”
You didn’t argue.
That alone would’ve surprised him, if he’d had the energy to think about it.
The cabin appeared like something unreal: half-buried in snow, tucked between the trees like it had been waiting for you. You almost thought you’d imagined it until Bucky reached it first, forcing the door open against the wind.
Inside, the silence hit just as hard as the storm. No warmth. No fire. Just still, frozen air, but hey, it was shelter, and that was more than enough.
You stumbled in after him, shutting the door quickly, cutting off the roar of the wind. For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just stood there, catching your breath, the quiet settling heavy between you.
“…We got lucky,” you said eventually.
“We don’t rely on luck,” he replied automatically, already scanning the room.
You almost smiled at that, but it faded quickly as another shiver ran through you, stronger this time, harder to ignore.
Bucky noticed immediately; it was hard to miss the aggressive shakes coming from your body.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I said—” Your voice caught slightly, betraying you, “—I’m fine.”
He stepped closer then, his gaze sharper now, more focused on you than the room. “You’re freezing.”
You let out a weak breath that might’ve been a laugh. “We’re in a snowstorm, Barnes. What gave it away?”
But he didn’t react to the sarcasm this time. His attention dropped briefly to your hands, your posture, and the way you tried (and failed) to balance your weight.
“…We need heat,” he said.
“There’s nothing here,” you replied. “No firewood, no power.”
A beat passed.
"Then we share body heat.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “…Seriously?”
“It’s survival,” he said simply. “Hypothermia doesn’t wait.”
You knew that. You did. Still, you hesitated.
“We don’t have to talk,” he added, softer now. “Just...stay warm.”
Something about that made it easier to nod.
“…Fine.”
At first, it was awkward. You sat beside each other, close but not quite touching, like there was still some invisible boundary neither of you had crossed before. But then another shiver hit you, sharp and uncontrollable, and Bucky didn’t hesitate anymore.
He moved closer, one arm pulling you in until your side pressed against his chest. His hold was firm, steady, and grounding in a way that surprised you. You tensed for half a second but didn’t pull away; the heat coming from him was too nice to reject.
“This is weird,” you muttered.
“Yeah,” he agreed quietly.
But neither of you moved.
"How are you so freaking warm? Curse that super serum," you grumbled under your breath, feeling a silent huff escape Bucky.
The warmth came slowly, seeping through layers, through hesitation, through whatever distance had always existed between you. Your breathing steadied first, then your hands stopped shaking so violently. At some point, your head ended up resting against his shoulder - you weren’t sure when, and he didn’t comment on it.
“You're a stubborn ass,” he said after a while, his voice low in the quiet.
You frowned slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you don’t stop, even when you should.”
You tilted your head just enough to glance at him. “And you do?”
“This isn't about me.”
His grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to be felt. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. It felt… full. Different, even. Like something had shifted without either of you saying it outright.
“You could’ve left me,” you said eventually, your voice softer now.
His response was immediate. “No.”
“You didn’t even think about it.”
“I don’t leave people behind.”
You exhaled slowly. “You left Clint behind on the last mission; why do you think I'm here and he isn't. ”
His gaze dropped to you then, something unreadable flickering there.
“Because you're one of the few people who isn't cautious around me, who makes me feel like I can be myself," he said.
You didn’t know what to do with that, so you didn’t try. You just stayed there, letting the warmth settle deeper, letting the moment stretch a little longer than it probably should have.
By the time the storm began to quiet outside, the distance between you was gone. Not just physically, something had changed
When you finally pulled away, it felt wrong. Too cold. Too empty.
Neither of you moved toward the door right away.
Because stepping outside meant going back to the silence, to distance, to whatever this had been before.
And for the first time since you’d met Bucky Barnes, neither of you seemed ready for that.
