The Small Things
Bucky x reader one-shot
Summary: You kept the small things to yourself. But when those small things were bruises and pain left on your body by your boyfriend, they were never going to stay with you forever. During a lab visit, Bucky finally realises why the reader pulled away from him, and swears to keep her safe forever. - PART 2 Here x
TWs: Domestic abuse, detailed descriptions of bruises, injuries, and pain, verbal insults and controlling behavior, themes of isolation and manipulation
Everything was fine. Everything would keep being fine as long as no one asked any questions. Because if anyone asked you a question, something was going to break open inside you so wide, so broken, that you could never force close it again. So, coffee in hand, makeup checked and double checked, laptop in bag and shoulders squared, you walked into the compound.
You smiled and waved at Gary, calling out a soft ‘heya’ to the security guard who sat at the front desk daily, diligently checking everyone coming in and out of the labs. When you could, you remembered to bring him a coffee: for such a giant of a man, he loved an extra-sweet latte. He kept you all safe, or as safe as he could, and you thought he probably didn’t get enough recognition for it. He was as part of the brickwork of the place as much as any avenger or director alike. He kept the place going, and it was important to you to recognise every turning cog of a machine.
It was the small things that mattered. They could make someone’s day. They could blow your life wide open in a way that made it hard for you to sleep at night. Focus on the little things. Sleeves pulled down, top button done up. Hair down to cover the bruise, just skimming past the edge of your hairline. He usually paid more attention when he hit you. It was usually easier to hide.
Never mind; you’d just have to work a bit harder at hiding it until it faded.
You passed a few fellow scientists on your way through to your lab. Dr Sophie Rosen, who was working on improving the space tech Stark Tech had started and got bored of, caught up with you, and you made your way through the winding corridors together, catching up after the weekend. You were meant to meet her for drinks on Saturday night - a group from the lab had agreed to meet up. But Mark had made it clear you wouldn’t be going when he’d thrown you to the floor and slammed the door to your shared bedroom in your face, locking it behind him. He’d left a boot print on your back, bruises on your wrists, and a ringing in your head.
‘Anyway, I’m jabbering on. I wasn’t sure to expect you in today’ Sophie’s comment pulled you back into reality as you turned to look at her, confused. She looked back at you, an equally confused smile pulling at her lips, ‘your cold? Gone now?’ Oh. God, you were slow today. You’d told her you were sick to get out of drinks.
You brushed it off with a laugh, ‘Oh yeah, must have been one of those 48-hour things! All good now.’ The words rushed out of your mouth slightly too quickly, and slightly too dismissively, but Sophie didn’t clock it. Instead, she knocked into you gently, whispering in mock conspiracy, ‘Mark better have looked after you or I’ll send him up to space next instead of a test dummy.’
You laughed her comment off, the same way you did every time someone at work brought Mark up. Smile. Laugh. Brighten your eyes. Keep the small things hidden. Don’t think about the friends you’ve lost. The nights alone. The nights in agony.
You made up some story about ‘soup or something’ before being internally flooded with relief as your lab’s door came into view. You sped up slightly, rushing to get away from a conversation you didn’t know how long you could lie through. You told Sophie that you were close to a breakthrough and that you were gonna ‘crack on’. You hoped she took the startled gasp of pain you let out as she pulled you into a hug as one of surprise. She didn’t need to know your ribs were pulsing in sharp pain at the contact.
As the doors to your lab let off the gentle hiss that told you they were closing, you walked to your workbench, gingerly, letting the pull of your aching body envelop you for a second. You all but fell into your chair. Shut off inside your lab, you let yourself have a second to think of what happened on Saturday. A few seconds to process before getting on.
Mark had come in from his shift in a shit mood. You should’ve known better than texting him to say you were going out that night. Should have asked permission. Should have had his lunch ready when he came in. Should have woken up early to clean the apartment.
But you were tired. You were so tired, and you had been for a while. So, in the safety of an empty apartment, you’d let yourself rest, let the warm sunlight lull you into a false sense of security as you dozed.
But suddenly it was midday and the door slammed open. Suddenly, he was in the bedroom. Suddenly, he was on top of you. Suddenly, you hurt. Different parts of your body screaming at you in pain while he spat abuse down onto you. You’d tried to curl in on yourself. Begged him to stop, tears streaming down your face. It didn’t make a difference.
The slight sting of the cold metal workspace in front of you pulled you back to the lab as your forearms rested on it, your head cradled in your hands. You’d loved him. He’d loved you. He still did. Or at least, he told you he did. What was worse, you knew a part of you still loved him. It hurt to stay, but what if it hurt worse to leave? How could you even leave now? Where would you start?
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
In. Out.
You pushed the thoughts from your mind as you picked up an AJ and your souldering iron and got to work. What better distraction could there be than finishing your upgrades to the arm in front of you?
About five years ago, you’d finished your degree and stepped into the world of the Avengers. Or, more accurately, you’d been brought in. The tech you’d made for one of your final projects had caught the eye of Fury; the next thing you knew, you were sat in SHIELD HQ being given some equipment and designs, and told to ‘have fun’. By the end of the day, you’d signed a contract.
Like every other SHIELD agent, you’d had to complete basic training to become a fully qualified agent, basic self-defence, weaponry and combat. It was how you’d met Tasha. She was training your group one day, and while you were sparring, she used a Widow Bite on you. Once you’d recovered, you’d asked her if you could hold on to it. When you brought it back a week later with five improvements and a more compact design, she got you relocated to the compound.
You missed her fiercely. She’d been like a big sister to you, so when you’d come back from the blip to find her and Tony gone, something in you withered. Back then? They would’ve noticed the small things. They all would have. Nat, Tony, Steve, Sam…Bucky. They would’ve seen the way the fire in your eyes had turned to smoke. They would’ve seen the long sleeves in summer, the high necks. The black eyes hidden under bad makeup.
They would’ve gotten you away from Mark before you even realised what he was doing was wrong. But most of them were gone now. Mark had pulled you away from the rest. And you were trapped with him. Someone with basic fucking shield training couldn’t even defend herself. Pathetic.
So, you kept your distance from the rest of the team that came back from the blip. You clocked in. You clocked out. You did good work, and you went home. You pulled away from everyone. No more training days. No Avenger and Co get aways. No film nights.
You smiled softly at the project in front of you, the upgraded arm for Bucky. You remembered how he’d told you late one night that the weight of the metal pulled at his shoulder uncomfortably. A small thing, he’d said, barely mentioned in passing, but something that you’d remembered. And one that you’d, hopefully, just fixed. A gesture. A way to remind him you were still there. To keep him in your life when Mark had cut him out of every other part. You pulled up a holo-screen, sending Bucky a quick message: Upgrade’s ready when you are! :)
You knew he’d come pretty quickly; he always did when you called, but you kept yourself busy anyway. Less time to think that way. Yelena had said something about her batons feeling ‘clunky’ - you could help fix that. The problem was, you got a bit carried away. So carried away, with your ear defenders on and angle grinder going, that you didn’t hear Bucky come in. Didn’t notice him until a hand landed on your shoulder.
You couldn’t stop yourself from flinching, no matter how much you wished you had. You shrank into yourself, expecting a blow that, of course, would never come. You turned around as fast as the disk on the grinder spun, to find Bucky, stepped slightly back, wide-eyed and hands held up as if he was looking at a startled deer, not a woman with a tool that could be lethal. Your finger left the trigger, your heart hammering in your chest at a thousand beats a minute as adrenaline burned through your body and every muscle clenched out of fearful memory. ‘Fuck’ you breathed out, panic coursing through you. The second the tool spun down, you placed it on the counter, yanking off your gloves and ear defenders; ‘Oh my god, Bucky I am so so sorry! I didn’t hear you come in.’
Bucky hadn’t stepped any closer. His hands were still up, but his brow had furrowed slightly, his eyes flickering up and down your body, before catching on the purple, hand-shaped bruise, encasing your wrist where you’d just pulled your glove off. Your eyes followed his own.
You couldn’t help but gasp a little as you saw it, turning away from him and immediately pulling your sleeve back down. No. No no no no no. Not now. He couldn’t see now. Not after everything. Not after you’d survived so long like this. Bucky’s voice came slightly gruff from across the room as he tried to force some lightness into his tone, ’It’s okay Doll - you alright? Thought you were gonna get me for a sec there.’
Your heart was still running at a million miles an hour, but you let out a slightly breathless laugh as you turned back around to him. There was something sad in his eyes. It was only small. Barely noticeable. But you liked the small things. You saw the small things. The way his frown crinkled the skin between his eyebrows, how his eyes seemed to get darker when he was upset. And Bucky was sad. Sad, and maybe angry. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t push. He kept a false, gentle smile going your way. Kept his voice soft and his tone light. He was trying to make sure he didn’t spook you.
‘Nah, gramps. I think it’d take more than me and an angle grinder to take you down,’ you laugh out, picking Bucky’s new arm up and crossing the lab space towards him.
‘I don’t know. I reckon you got some rage hidden in there.’
‘Hah, if you say so, old man.’ You were standing just across from him now. ‘You okay if I attach it the first time?’ Bucky nodded at you, ‘Sure thing, genius,’ you could feel his eyes flickering over your form again, searching for something as the hem of your t-shirt rose up without you realising, Bucky’s eyes immediately honing in on another bruise. But he didn’t say anything. He added it to the mental catalogue. He’d taken your disapperance the hardest, never knowing why. Except now, now he was finding out, and he hated the answer. ‘Remind me what upgrade this one is?’ You’d just finished attaching the new arm as he asked, so instead of replying, you told him to ‘give it a go, soldier, you tell me.’
Bucky quirked his eyebrows at you, a cheeky grin pulling at his lips, as if saying if you say so. You weren’t talking. Either you didn’t realise he’d blocked a bruise on your wrist that was filling him with rage, or you were hiding it. So he played along. He curled his fingers into a fist before swinging the arm in a full circle, the machinery now barely making a sound at the action. A surprised look came onto Bucky’s face as he brought his arm up backwards and slowly moved his arm in a back-and-forth motion a few times. ‘It’s not pulling,’ Bucky almost whispered in disbelief, before locking eyes with you, his features softening in gratitude, ‘you remembered.’ You smiled and nodded your head slightly, ‘you said it was hurting, I wanted to stop it.’
Before you knew it, Bucky had closed the distance between you, pulling you into the gentlest hug, but you couldn’t help but flinch again. Bucky felt every single muscle in your body tense, but he held you close, not letting you, but pulling you closer, letting your body realise it was safe, letting it relax into the hug. The contact put pressure on your ribs. It was worth it. Above you, Bucky simply whispered a ‘thank you,’ into your hair.
The pair of you stayed like that for a while, bodies pressed against each other, pulling comfort from the other. It was nice.
You’d been so close once. Bucky was your person. Your best friend. Your safe place. You were one of the first people he was introduced to. The pair of you had bonded over 40’s music and good food. Movie nights happened weekly, and you’d stayed over in his room more than once after falling asleep mid-movie. Bucky always took the couch when you did. But Mark started making comments about the men you always seemed to hang out with. Then the comments turned into punishments. So you’d pulled away from the team. From Bucky.
But you missed them. Missed him. Missed his messy hair in the mornings and the way his hoodies smelt of home. Missed how you felt safe with him. Eventually, you pulled away from each other.
‘What are you doing tonight, Doll? We’re gonna have a movie night if you want to join us?’ Your heart broke a little knowing you had to say no. Everything in you wanted to say yes, to hide away with the team and never come back. But you couldn’t. Not with how Mark had been recently. Staying would only mean more bruises. More pain. You couldn’t cope with it.
‘I’d love to Bucky, but I can’t, Mark wants me home tonight.’ You didn’t miss how Bucky’s jaw clenched at Mark’s name.
‘But what do you want?’
You tried to laugh it off, ‘Come on Buck, it’s a Monday night.’
You tried to pull away. Bucky wasn’t having it. He fixed his gaze on you, immovable and hard. Before you knew what was happening, Bucky had your wrists gently held in his, pulling you over to the couch that sat in the corner of your lab. He sat you down before letting go of your hands and kneeling in front of you. You couldn’t look at him. His hand came up to your cheek, softly guiding your face so that you were looking him in his steel blue eyes.
‘I miss you.’
He said it so simply, so matter-of-fact. It hit you in the gut like a bullet. You were frozen in time. Your brain was running at a million miles an hour, but you couldn’t make sense of any of it. You drew in a sharp breath as Bucky’s hands gently closed around your right wrist, and his voice, soft as sunrise, said ‘I miss you. And you’ve been pulling away from us. And now, I think I know why.’ He turned your palm upwards, cradling it in his hand, before shifting to sit next to you on the couch. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything about the rising panic storming inside you. About the fear. The shame. The embarrassment. You couldn’t move when Bucky’s hands slowly pulled your sleeve up, revealing those small things you’d worked so hard to hide.
Ugly, purple and black bruises, fading green ones with a sickly colour, and scars.
‘I’m going to kill him.’
Bucky’s eyes, filled with anguish, took in the bruises, cuts and burns as he drew in a shaky, stuttering breath, his thumb gingerly tracing over the marks. He didn’t yell it. Didn’t shout. Didn’t rage. He said it like it was a fact.
You’d been hurt. He was going to make sure it didn’t happen again.
You were crying. From nothing but the sheer gentleness that Bucky held you with. You hadn’t been touched, held, gently, like something precious, for so long. From the fact that he looked so sad that someone would ever hurt you. A stray tear turned into two, into a litany of sobs that were racking your body.
At some point, Bucky simply curled his arms around you and pulled you into his chest. He held you close, held you tight, a promise that he wasn’t going to let go. A dam had opened, and water was flooding through. All the misery. All the sorrow and hurt of the last year, hitting you at once.
Finally, you let it break you. You stayed in Bucky’s arms, protected from the rest of the world so long as he held you. And through each wave, each sob, each cry, he whispered comfort to you. Promises that ‘I got you now’, encouraging you to ‘let it out’, swearing that ‘you’re safe.’
Eventually, your cries wore out. You weren’t done crying. You weren’t gonna be for a long time. But for now, you’d tired yourself out. You pulled away from Bucky. He wouldn’t push. You knew he wouldn’t. But there was no going back now. Something in you had finally admitted the nightmare that your life had become, and you needed to tell him. Voice wobbling, breath shaking, you started talking.
‘He didn’t used to-’ you paused, swallowing, steeling yourself as you looked into Buckys eyes and saw no judgement, only comfort and sorrow, ‘He didn’t use to hit me. I swear he didn’t. It started last year, when he got his new job after the Blip. Money was tight, and things were tense. We’d been arguing, and I said I was gonna stay the night here. It-‘ you broke off, looking away from Bucky. ‘It was the first time he hit me. Said the only reason you guys liked me was because you were probably passing me around like some fuck toy. It started that night and-‘ You could hear the groan of Bucky’s arm as his fist clenched, ‘and he hasn’t really stopped since.’
‘I wanted to come to you. I swear I did. But we’d just lost Nat and Tony and I…’ You looked away from Bucky, blush colouring your cheeks in shame, ‘I didn’t know how. It all happened so quickly, I couldn’t get out, couldn’t admit what he’d done. I’m sorry’
‘Dont,’ Bucky’s voice broke in, hoarse, sad and deadly, ‘don’t ever apologise for what he’s done to you. Don’t you ever feel embarrassed about this. We should have seen that something was wrong. I should have.’ Suddenly, Bucky was kneeling in front of you again, looing up at you like it was a prayer, ‘I am so, so sorry I wasn’t there before. But I am now. Please let me help you, Doll.’
You couldn’t speak, couldn’t say it. The pressure in your throat was too much to battle against. But you nodded. It was timid. It was scared. But it was there. He’d offered to help. You’d accepted.
He knelt up in front of you, pulling your body into another gentle hug. ‘I got ya. I’m gonna look after you now. I promise.’ He stood gently, helping you stand on shaky legs and wrapping you into his side.
As you stepped out of the lab, you could feel eyes on you, your colleagues, on their lunch breaks, chatting, watching you be all but carried by Bucky Barnes into the personal quarters of the compound. But above you, Bucky was on high alert. Someone’s eyes locked onto you? He stared them down in seconds, making sure that not only would they look away, they’d never mention it ever again. He would protect you. Not only from Mark. From everyone. From the rumours. From the whispers. From the world.
Before you knew it, you were sitting on Bucky’s bed. Gentle hands passed you a pair of joggers and one of his hoodies. You and Bucky were moving in a peaceful silence until you pulled your top off. The low growl that left Bucky’s chest was unmistakable as he took in the extent of the damage Mark had done. You locked eyes with his, which were full of apology and anger. He whispered out a sorrowful ‘I am so sorry.’ You didn’t need to reply.
Without saying anything, he grabbed a balm off his bedside table and lowered himself onto the bed next to you. ‘Can I put this on you? It’s just a balm, helps bruises heal quicker.’ You gave a gentle nod of your head, and Bucky got some of the balm out onto his metal hand, warming it up with his human one. He kept all of his movements in your eyeline, quietly promising not to touch you without your consent, not to surprise you, and promising that you were in control.
Warm hands started to work the balm over the bruise on your back while Bucky’s frown deepened. ‘It’s not your fault Buck,’ you whispered out. Bucky barely grunted at you in response, so you turned to look at him, moving your back out of reach and catching his hands in yours before he could carry on. ‘Bucky, look at me,’ he did. ‘This is not your fault.’ He just clenched his jaw and shook his head. ‘I should have noticed.’ A stray tear fell from his eyes. ‘I made sure you didn’t, Buck. This is no one’s fault but Mark’s. Promise me you know that?’ It was Bucky’s turn to nod in reply, but it was enough for you to turn back around and let him keep applying the balm.
When he’d finished your back, he moved on to your arms, placing a kiss on each wrist when he’d finished. You stood up, quickly changing into Bucky’s sweats while he was turned around, before sitting down on the bed again, the smell of Bucky’s clothes immediately making you feel safer.
In the smallest voice he’d ever heard, you whispered out, ’What do I do now, Bucky?’
‘Tonight you rest.’
‘And tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow we get you out of there for good.’
AN: Hello dearies. The mental health is not healthing right now, so I can't promise when the next part will be, however, THERE WILL BE A PART TWO, confrontation with Mark will occur, Bucky will be protective as fuck - so do let me know if you'd like to be tagged in it! Thanks as ever for reading x
