The Week Of - Bucky Barnes X Reader || Part 2 || Angst / Fluff
Summary: As a bridesmaid in your best friend’s wedding, you are invited to stay with her during the week of the wedding as everything gets prepared for the big day. Things don’t quite go as planned when you discover that you will be bunking with one of the groomsmen.
Word Count: 1,180
Date Posted: 05.30.23
TW: strong language.
Note: This may not actually be that angsty again...
|| Masterlist || Request Here || Ask Me Stuff || Part 3 || Requested
“Are you ready for that hug now?” You asked, wandering into the kitchen, baggy sweats cuffed around your ankles so you wouldn’t accidentally trip over them. Ava’s face broke out into a grin.
“Yes, of course!” She squealed, pulling you into her arms. “God, I missed you! It’s been too long.”
“I missed you too.” You relaxed into the physical touch, no longer feeling overstimulated from the airport. The quiet was interrupted by the growling of your stomach.
“Do you want to go get shitty fast Mexican food and hang out in Bessie and talk?” She asked, needing to get in a good chat before the events of the wedding kicked off. You nodded, smiling sheepishly.
One hill that you would die on is that what makes Filiberto’s so great is the fact that it is so shitty and greasy. The last time you’d visited Ava, the two of you had Filiberto’s three times in the one week. Something about it made it so delicious and addicting, and within days of your return home, you were already fantasizing about when you would get your next taste.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t ask you to be my maid of honor,” Ava interrupted the content silence of your meal in the front seat of her VW Bus. The sunset over the park you had pulled into casted golden rays over her face. “I just needed someone who would be here to help me with the planning and the bridal shower.”
“I understand,” You smiled, “I kinda assumed that’s why you didn’t pick me. I’m glad you and Greyson are finally tying the knot, though.”
“I heard that you and Bucky had quite the rough start.”
You sighed, regret sitting heavy in your chest, “I was overstimulated and not handling my emotions well. I shouldn’t have taken it out on him, but he also shouldn’t have kept me trapped in that tiny space while he let everyone else get off the plane first.”
“I know,” Ava assured, “But Bucky doesn’t know that. I think you two would really get along if you apologized. Maybe if you explained to him what was happening in your big beautiful brain.”
“You’re right.”
“Are you ready to head home?”
“Yeah, let’s head home.”
Bucky was laid shirtless in the king-sized bed when you entered your shared room, book in hand. For a long moment, you were frozen in place. His entire left arm was made of metal, but it looked like an arm. It wasn’t like the vast majority of prosthetics that you had seen. Most impressive was that it was functional. There were many prosthetics you’d seen that were for show or had very limited functionality.
“Are you gonna keep staring, or are you gonna say something?” His voice knocked you out of your stupor.
“I uh,” you let out a long breath, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. Each word halted, making your sentence come out slow and staggered. You were never one for confrontation; every syllable felt like a nail in your coffin. “We got off on the wrong foot today, and I just wanted to clear the air.”
Bucky set his book to the side, giving you his full attention. Momentarily distract you with how his muscles shifted and the puffy scars that crept down his left pec.
“I am sorry that I snapped at you.” You started, looking anywhere but at his face, “I was really overstimulated by the whole air travel process, and I genuinely wanted to claw off my own skin, and airports have entirely too many people and noises and things. Not that that excuses the fact that I was rude to you, but I’m just trying to let you know where I am coming from and why I acted the way that I did, and-”
“Stop.” He said firmly, causing your words to fizz out like air being released from a balloon. “I was being a dick too. Obviously, you weren’t enjoying that situation when we were unloading, and I deliberately sat there to make you suffer. Wanna start over?”
You sighed, a smile growing on your face. You stuck your hand out for him to shake, “Hi, I’m Y/n.”
“I’m Bucky.” He shook your hand.
“Your arm is fascinating. Is that the latest from Stark Technologies? I heard after some horrible incident overseas, Tony stopped producing weapons of mass destruction and instead started to produce prosthetics and fund resources to help veterans with PTSD.” You sat cross-legged on the bed, trying to get a better look at the slated metal in front of you. “It’s fully functional? Like you never lost your arm?”
“It took a while to adjust to its sensitivities, but yes, it’s fully functional.”
“Can I touch it?”
“I guess,” He chuckled. He was used to children asking to examine his arm, but most grown adults just adverted their eyes and pretended it didn’t exist as it that was supposed to help normalize someone having an arm made entirely of metal. You examined it with care, only using feather light touches as you traced the slats in the metal. You followed the pattern all the way up his shoulder to his chest, where the scars spiderwebbed across his pec.
Bucky sucked in a breath as you traced one of his scars, shifting slightly. You pulled your hand back abruptly as if he’d electrocuted you.
“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” You asked.
“No…. It’s just been a long time.”
You waited for him to finish his sentence for a moment until you realized that he wasn’t going to.
“I guess it’s getting pretty late.” You scratched the back of your neck. "I can sleep in the armchair.”
“Absolutely not. I would not be much of a gentleman if I let you do that. Besides, both my mom and Ava would kick my ass. I will sleep in the chair tonight.”
You chuckled at the image of Ava’s tiny, curvy frame landing a kick square between his cheeks.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay.”
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, letting out a groan as he stretched. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his shirtless back, admiring the functional definition in his muscles. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down his spine. His boxers fit tightly to his ass and thighs. There was no way this man skipped out on his squats.
Bucky pulled the little footstool over to the chair, sitting down to measure out the distance. You had to advert your eyes, or you’d not-so-subtly be staring at what he was packing. Your face heated uncontrollably as you began to make your nest in the large bed.
You could hear him move around to the armoire, digging out an extra blanket from the bedding stored there. As he headed back to the chair, he flicked off the light, cursing slightly to himself as he blindly worked his way to his “bed.”
“Night, Y/n.”
“Good night, Bucky.” You whispered back in the darkness.
