Pairing | New Avenger!Bucky x Reader
Summary | It's a soft, sleepy morning with your boyfriend and Alpine. You're too stubborn to move.
Warnings/Tags | Fluff, fluff, and more fluff, established relationship, tender kisses, everyone's favorite kitty, Alpine (I love that white fur ball so much), pet name (baby), reader steals Bucky's arm (what?? It's comfy), Sam Wilson makes a small apperance, Sam and Bucky are on good terms because I said so, no use of y/n
Word Count | 1.6k
A/N | Got inspired by fan art that I saw on TikTok by @/max.imiliano_arts (see bottom for picture). It was too cute, I just had to write about it. Everyone knows I'm a whore for smut, but I'm also a whore for fluff. This is my first fanfic with just pure fluff, so I hope you enjoy:))
Read on AO3:)
It was a lazy Saturday morning, wind whistling through the curtain that could almost be perceived as a melody to an unfamiliar song. The birds chirped, trees swayed, and the sun peeked through the branches as the air swirled. Cars zoomed past a floor below your apartment, and townsfolk strolled down the sidewalks like they had time to spare. The world around you was wide awake. But you? You were curled into Bucky, still softly breathing as if nothing could touch you.
His front was pressed to your back, metal arm under you to keep your head elevated, so your neck didn’t cramp. He thought, How could that possibly be comfortable? But you insisted it was your favorite place to sleep (other than his chest). Where he felt that the metal plates might scratch your soft skin, you assured him it was like a firm pillow that was always cool to the touch.
Alpine seemed to like it too as she was curved into the opposite side of his bicep, nuzzling against the shiny, black plating. The white cat let out a low purr, head popping up at a sound only she could hear. Her ears twitched, eyes scanning the room as if something might jump out at her.
She eventually leveled her gaze at Bucky, icy blues locked on steel blue ones. She was seemingly expecting head pats. Not asking, expecting. Like she knew just how much leverage she had over the super soldier.
He rolled his eyes dramatically as if he was actually annoyed. His flesh hand reached up to scratch under her chin, surrendering to Alpine’s entitlement. She trilled, leaning into his touch. He gave a few more pats to her head, then she lowered it back to its original spot, as if to say, That's enough, human.
He focused his attention back on you, his metal fingers toyed with yours until he finally laced them together. He draped his arm over your waist while his mouth moved to your shoulder, placing lingering kisses on your sun-warmed skin. You squirmed slightly, then settled back into his arm like nothing happened.
These mornings were rare, and Bucky learned to treasure them. Soak them up like a sponge. Replay these tiny moments in his head on repeat, just in case his mind began to slip.
He was constantly working, always on tiring missions or media training that Val forced the team to attend. He’d much rather have more days like this, snuggled up with his girls in the soft quiet of the morning.
But even now, he knew he couldn’t stay for much longer. He had stupidly agreed to meet up with Sam today. Of all days, why did he choose this one? Not when you looked so peaceful, it was mesmerizing. Like a fluffy cloud, stretching out across a sunset at full vibrancy. Or a lone star twinkling brighter than all the rest.
Fuck, you were something special. Something sweet, caring, kind—kinder than he deserved. Like when you washed his uniform because he forgot to drop it off at the cleaners (your soap always smelled better, anyway), giving him a back massage because he ‘looked tense’ (he had to deal with his teammates, of course, he was), or dropping off his lunch at the Watchtower because he forgot to bring it (he’d do it on purpose just to see you).
And the moments when you gave him a run for his money; he lived for that. Like play-fighting over the last pancake (you always won), stealing the remote to watch some girly show he wasn’t interested in (he totally was), or splashing water on him from the sink as you did dishes (they would usually be forgotten after that).
You were perfect, and he couldn’t believe you were his. He’d be damned if he didn’t prove that he deserved you every day of his life because you were it for him. And maybe he never let himself think of a future, but now? It was there. Slight blurry? Yeah. But the one constant when he lets his brain run wild is you. And naturally, Alpine. The cat would likely kick the two of you to the curb before she’d let anything be planned without her existence.
He snapped out of his thoughts, realizing he would be late if he didn’t get out of his stupidly comfortable bed. He couldn’t let Sam have the upper hand in this. If he showed up late, Wilson would tease him relentlessly, make fun of Bucky’s love life, or tell him that he’s gone soft. What was this, anyway? Breakfast? Again, why did he agree to this?
He let his eyes drift over you once more before he started to wiggle his metal arm under you. “Baby,” he whispered, hot breath fanning across your ear, “I gotta get going.”
You didn’t budge. As a matter of fact, did he even say anything at all? Because you were a dead weight on his arm, and you weren’t going anywhere. He squeezed your waist with his warm hand, planting kisses on your neck and the shell of your ear—still, nothing.
“There’s a cold pillow with your name on it, just let me move you,” he muttered, lifting your head leisurely, so as not to startle you awake.
You shifted, curling tighter into his metal arm, if that’s even possible, murmuring a soft, “No.” Your cheek smushed against the plates, and your fingers held tight to his like you weren’t going to let him leave without a fight. Why does he even bother? Stubborn woman, he thought. He was a fucking super soldier, and he couldn’t move you. It wasn’t about his strength anymore; it was about not poking a very sleepy and potentially angry bear.
He decided to press his luck one more time before completely giving up and calling it a day. His flesh hand enveloped you, palm cradling your neck to move his arm out from under you. This time, it wasn’t even you being difficult about him moving; it was Alpine. She raised her head, hissing at her owner as if he were the one causing problems.
“Okay, okay,” he grumbled, setting your head back down, and yielding in his attempts to steal his arm back. “You two are going to be the death of me, I swear.” He shot a glare at his cat, who was, one hundred percent, giving him the stink eye. Alpine snuggled back into his arm, knowing she got her way. She always did.
He tried to be irritated, but he just couldn’t. It was a losing battle. His mouth was quicker than his brain, moving on its own accord, as his frown turned to a gentle grin. He shook his head, sighing, “What am I going to do with you?” He leaned down to kiss a spot directly below your ear; he couldn’t help it. You shivered in response, and he caught a small smile spreading across your lips, even with your face buried in his arm.
He reached up with his free hand, gripping his metal shoulder and giving it a sharp yank downward. The metal components clicked and whirred as the arm slid free from its socket. He laid it to rest on the mattress as he shifted to get up one-handed.
Bucky didn’t mind functioning with one arm. He got used to it in Wakanda, so it wasn’t a necessity. Clearly, you and Alpine needed it more than he did.
After he dressed—black shirt, jeans, and his combat boots—he made his way back to the bed. Alpine had moved, wedged her way between the crook of your neck and the metal’s forearm. You continued to hold the metal hand as if it were still attached to him. He propped his knee on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he hovered over you.
He placed one final kiss on the place between your brows, and one to his cat’s nose. “Be back soon, my pretty girls,” he said softly, drinking in the sight of the pair on his bed.
When he arrived at the small dinner off the highway, he spotted Sam immediately. He was leaning against his truck with his arms crossed, checking the watch on his wrist, his fingers tapping his bicep rhythmically as he waited. Bucky ducked out of the car, giving Wilson a wave that looked more like a half-hearted hand gesture.
“Took you long enough,” he bellyached, “I was starting to think you were standing me up, cyborg.” Bucky rolled his eyes at the nickname, gesturing to get inside and get this over with. Sam’s brow furrowed as he followed after the super soldier. “Forgetting something?”
“Huh?” he replied, barely glancing in his friend's direction.
Wilson waved his arms dramatically, indicating how obvious it was. “Where’s your arm, dude? You lose a bet? Don’t tell me that trash panda robbed you.”
“No, no. I-” Bucky started, but cut himself off, a smirk etching onto his face as he thought of what awaited him at home. “It’s…occupied.”
Sam’s face contorted even further, confusion and disbelief rolled into one. “Are you smiling, Buck?”
He shook his head immediately, biting the inside of his cheek to clear the evidence of his delight. “Of course not.”
Wilson laughed, loud and booming. “No way,” he knocked his shoulder into his buddy’s, “Who the hell got you to start doing that?”
“Shut up,” he mumbled in response.
Sam knew better than to push it much farther than that, but he added, “Looks good on you, y’know? You look…happy.”
Bucky didn’t answer, just let the thought of that bounce around in his skull, grow legs even. Yeah, maybe he was happy. And perhaps he secretly liked the jittery, warming feeling that spread in his chest.
Now his feet were moving faster, b-lining it to the diner's entrance. Not just to get away from Sam’s scrutiny, but because he had to get home to his girls.
