Bucky x OC - wip
OKAAY! Since some you wanted this to happen, then let me know what you think. This is a wip of the very first chapter.
(based on my previous post)
OC is Maria (Mia) Bielawa, and she's Polish. This is happening post-Civil War but in an alternate universe. Where the Accords didn’t go through, Tony found out and just left the Avengers, and Steve brought Bucky home.
Coldness, roughness and an eerie sense of finally being at peace, was all that followed Mia as she opened her eyes. Blinking slowly against the bright light from above her, she clenched her tired hands over the strangely soft duvet.
She frowned, running her thin fingers over the blankets that were almost piled on top of her. They were nice, too nice and too soft. Colourful too, the one on top was cream with yellow flowers. Mia traced the simple pattern absentmindedly, as she shivered every now and then.
To be honest, she felt… weird. Very tired but also so relaxed… it was strange wasn’t it? Everything seemed wrong, there was something—
“Miss Bielawa.”
Mia jumped ever so slightly, her wide green eyes leaving the blanket and following the sound to the source. Which was a… woman?
Strange. She doesn’t recall ever seeing a female scientist, or even a nurse.
“—s Bielawa, can you hear me?” the woman asked again, looking concerned as she stepped closer and leaned down a bit.
Bielawa. Her name, they never used it before. Mia herself could barely recall it, after so long, still the only place where it remained was within her own mind. And he also knew it—
Touch.
She flinched violently, whole body lighting up and nearly burning as her heart skipped a beat. Immediately, clarity came over Mia as she realised exactly what was happening and where she was.
Mia pushed the woman away roughly and ripped the IV from her arm.
They were drugging her.
“–p this! You are safe, Mis—” the other woman screamed, as Mia dragged herself from the bed and finally took in the room.
It was big and white, clean too. There was strange equipment, armchairs, a closet and a giant window.
A window.
When was the last time that she saw the outside? She doesn’t… doesn’t remember—
“Stand down!”
Mia’s attention returned to the other side of the room, where now two guards stood, their weapons drawn as the woman from before stood behind them.
“Return to the bed and stand down!”
The urgent tone. It reminded her.
“—You’ll never see him again, he’s free” she shouted, smiling as they pushed her.
The officer went red with rage, so much so that he trembled as he yelled “Then you won’t either!”
The pod closed, and she smiled as tears finally escaped “I know. He’s free.”
That’s right. He was free.
“—get back to the goddamned bed!”
“Lewis!” the other guard yelled at the other, as if in disapproval.
With the attention no longer on her, Mia turned and sprinted at the glass arms raised.
“Hey, hey, hey!”
“No!”
“Miss Bielaw—!”
Mia jumped.
The ground came quicker than he could have predicted, as did the pain. She groaned and clutched her ribs, as she slowly gathered herself up from the grass.
She was outside, a fact that made her head spin as she looked around her green surroundings. There were people scattered on the grounds, all looking at her or up at the window that she broke through. They seemed shocked and to be completely honest, Mia was as well.
Why was no one shooting at her?
Glancing up, she noticed the guards standing in the broken window just staring at her, too stunned to do anything it would seem.
Mia let out a little laugh, stumbling a bit back as her head spun. This turned into a sharp hiss as the pain radiated through her, but this only made her start walking forward, towards the trees.
If she was going to die. Then she’d die on her own terms, with grass underneath her bleeding feet and the sun warming her skin.
She was outside.
What a strange concept that was.
“If they let you choose. Where would you want to die?” he asked in the cold quiet of their room.
Immediately shaking her head, she scolded “Don’t talk—”
“Humor me…” he pressed, sounding tired.
Normally, she would argue that they shouldn’t talk about this sort of stuff, but something about his voice… It made her answer.
“Somewhere outside. I miss the sun. But I wouldn’t mind the wind and rain either, as long as… no. You know what. We’re not talking about this—”
It was sunny, so, no rain for her. But as long as she’s out—
“Mia!”
Immediately, she stopped.
And with a confused frown, she turned back around, her wide green eyes shining with unshed tears.
A couple of metres behind her stood a man that she recognised well.
He was supposed to be free.
But he was here.
He was here.
“Why-Why aren’t you free?” she asked, taking a slight step back as she repeated in desperation “You were supposed to be free!”
He walked closer, and Mia let him, not knowing what else to do but to let him approach.
During his slow walk, she noted some key differences in his look from the last time that she saw him.
He was bigger, the biggest that she’s seen him. Actually, he looked healthy, his hair washed and his skin tan.
“Mia…” he repeated, softer, almost spoken like a prayer. As if he couldn’t tell if it was really her, as he stood there with outstretched arms, his right hand shaking a little.
She focused on his face, his eyes and they seemed clear. Like… like there was a person in there, not how they seemed after his… after a wipe.
There were no soldiers surrounding them.
The sun kept shining.
And so she let herself ask softly.
“Is… Is it really you, Bucky?”
He swallowed and blinked back some tears as he nodded, answering shakily “Y-Yeah.”
Mia took a step closer, her own green eyes filling with tears as she asked “And… And are free?”
Bucky swallowed, his right hand trembling even more as he nodded “We’re free.”
The wind picked up, blowing past her, ruffling her shaggy hair as she stared at Bucky.
Free.
They were free.
-
-
-
Three Weeks Later.
October 3rd, New Jersey. Private Trauma Treatment Center For Women.
There were 271 tiles in the room, a few were missing leaving only holes. In the left upper corner, near the ceiling, mold was spreading slowly.
The floor was also made out of tiles, they were this sea green colour. It was ugly, not to mention just how cold and slippery the whole room was.
In the far corner a single mattress laid, accompanied by an old ratty pillow and a thin sheet.
“We had to turn it every now and then, so as to not let it get moldy. I don’t think that we succeeded though.” Mia softly ended, looking out the window. Observing as the golden-brown trees swayed in the winds, spilling leaves onto the pavement.
It was finally October.
“You know that’s not what I asked about, Maria.” the doctor spoke from behind Mia, her pen gently tapping against her notebook “I asked about your current home—“
“It’s not my home.” Mia responded, turning and giving Dr. Harding an empty look “I… I don’t have a home, Doctor. I have nothing...”
Dr. Harding’s brows furrowed as she softly responded “You have your freedom, you have options Maria. I wouldn’t call that nothing, now, why do you feel like this is “nothing”?.”
“I didn’t get a choice when I was brought here.” Mia whispered, clenching her fists until her skinny fingers hurt.
“Your rehabilitation is mandatory, that’s true. But you need it, both physically and psychologically, Maria.”
She just stared at her Doctor, before turning back to the window, letting the silence speak for her.
“Maria. You have to open up eventually.”
“I am opening up.” Mia replied, still staring out the window.
Dr. Harding tapped her pen “You’ve been here for three weeks. We’ve had our sessions for two of them, and you still refuse to talk about anything other than James.”
“Bucky.” she softly corrected “He never liked James… his mother used to call him Jimmy to annoy him.”
“What about you? What did your mother call you, Maria?”
She pressed her head against the glass, not answering again.
“Very well then. How about you choose our topic?”
This piqued Mia’s interest, her eyes finding the Doctor’s in an instant. But before she could ask the one question that she wanted an answer to, Dr. Harding raised her hand.
“But it cannot concern him, Maria. This is about you, so, talk to me. Tell me your story.”
She frowned, looking away again as the wind picked up the speed, twisting and turning the leaves in the courtyard.
“He is my story.” she gently admitted, tapping her finger against the cold glass.
The Doctor sighed behind her and took a minute, letting Mia just be in her own little world by the window.
“Alright.” she decided, pulling the seemingly young woman’s attention back to reality “Let’s make a deal then.”
Mia frowned but stepped away from the window, slowly making her way to sit on the plush couch, her knees tucked to her chest as she listened.
“You can tell me about Bucky. But, you have to start at the very beginning.”
She cocked her head to the side lightly “The beginning?”
Dr. Harding nodded, shifting her notebook and pen “Yes. Let’s start with you, and then you can make your way towards Bucky. Deal?”
Mia’s nose scrunched a bit, but she relented and nodded “Okay. Deal.”
“Well, go on then. Let’s start with your name and your home…” the Doctor guided.
Taking one last peek at the dancing leaves, Mia spoke up, her accent thicker than before.
“My name is Maria Bielawa, and I was born in 1920 Poland.”
Dr. Harding nodded and smiled in encouragement, but Mia couldn’t find it within herself to return it.
Instead she looked at her thin knees and spoke quietly, like a shy child.
“It was 1944, I think. And before the war… we heard whispers, about others taking a path through Romania and Hungary. About leaving and escaping.”
“Who’s we? Your family?”
Mia froze, clenching her hands “No. My family… tata died from tuberculosis, when I was a baby. Mama was executed for stealing, after that my brother Jan… he went off with other boys to Warsaw.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. How did you manage through this grief?”
She shifted in her seat “I don’t know… I just pushed on, I didn’t want to focus on it.”
“Why did you feel that way? That you needed to avoid this grief?” Dr. Harding pressed.
“I didn’t avoid it. It’s— I kept them in my heart and prayed that they were together. That’s all I could do.”
Dr. Harding nodded and wrote something down, asking the next question “And your brother. Was there a way for you to follow him?”
“I didn’t want to.” Mia quickly admitted shivering and still staring down “Janek wanted to be a hero. I wanted… I was scared.”
“It’s okay to admit that, Maria. It doesn’t make you any less. Most people are afraid to fight, war is scary. Did you find closure in saying goodbye to him? Would you walk me through your relationship, perhaps?”
Mia hugged herself, not wanting to speak anymore as her brother’s face flashed in front of her face.
“Jesteś cholernym tchórzem, Mia!” (You’re a damned coward, Mia!)
“Zapomnij, że w ogóle jesteśmy rodziną!”(Forget that we’re even a family!)
“Maria?” Dr. Harding called out, and Mia just swallowed, wanting to get through it.
Wanting to be back with Bucky. Even if it’s in memories.
“I don’t want to.”
“Okay, that’s alright. We can come back to it later—“
Mia shook her head “I don’t want to.”
Dr. Harding’s brown eyes bore into her, as she trembled in her seat.
“Do you know why you don’t want to talk about him?”
Mia nodded at that.
“Would you like to share it with me? How does it makes you feel, talking about—“
“It’s just… It’s just hard. He— We didn’t part in a good way.”
“How do you feel about that?” the Doctor pressed again.
Moments past, as Mia thought about the question, not really wanting to entertain the Doctor but… but she needed to get this over with. The sooner she’s fixed, the sooner she’ll see Bucky.
“I’m… sad and angry.”
“Alright, let’s focus on one of these for now. Why sad?”
“Because it was the last time I’ve seen him, I’m sad that this is how it ended.”
“And angry?”
“He… He screamed at me. And a part of me wanted to yell back at him, make him understand that, that I just wasn’t like him.”
Dr. Harding nodded and tapped her pen again “So you were sad about the outcome, but angry at him?”
Mia frowned but after a moment nodded “I suppose. He hurt me, he didn’t even… he didn’t even listen to me. He just decided that I was… I was a coward.”
“And you don’t think that’s true?”
“No, I’m not…” she tried to deny it but it gnawed at her.
A coward.
“Alright. How about we break down some characteristics of a cowardly person, hm? See if they fit?”
Mia shrugged, leaning into her chair and turning to look out the window again.
“I’ll start then. A coward will avoid taking any responsibility for their actions, they will be quick to pin blame on someone or something else. They can betray others, just to save themselves. When faced with a difficult situation, they will run away, make others deal with it. They are quick liars, with many excuses.”
“I provoked it!” Mia yelled, sobbing as the guard held her down.
She watched helplessly as they dragged Winter down the hallway, away from the massacred bodies of three agents.
Agents who thought that it would be funny to tease the soldier and his companion.
“It’s my fault! Please!” she tried again, but none cared to listen “PLEASE! LEAVE HIM ALONE—”
“Замолчи.” the guard said, before activating her collar.(Shut up.)
Electricity washed over her body, leaving her in complete agony. Her fingers clawed at the device helplessly as they dragged her away.
The Asset disobeyed and he needed to be wiped.
Subject 17 was to be put into cryo, until the Asset complied again.
“Do you feel like this brief description fits you?”
Mia’s shaky and cold hand traced the scars around her throat, the skin there raw and ugly from years and years of being covered by that collar.
“I don’t know.” she whispered, her fingers still around her throat “I didn’t survive there… by being a hero, Doctor. I had my… I had brief moments of stupid bravery, but I kept my head down. I watched out for Bucky, kept him stable when his mind betrayed him, steered him away from doing something that could lead to his punishment. He would get… there were days when after a wipe, he was… he was worse.”
“Did he ever hurt you during such days?”
Something banged inside of the cell, the door was bent out of its shape, as if something tried to break it from the other side.
There was blood in the hallway leading to it, as the soldiers led her.
“Заставь его подчиняться.”(Make him obey.)
The door opened and Mia was thrown inside.
“No.” she replied “Even through the worst of it, he somehow recognised me, much like he recognised the words.”
“That must’ve been hard on you?”
Mia sighed “I didn’t know. I just wanted him to… I wanted to help him.”
“And do you feel like your… connection helped Bucky?”
“I hope so.”
“Alright.” Dr. Harding nodded, writing something down as she added “And do you think that it helped you?”
“Me?”
“Yes. From what you're saying, you felt responsible for him, acting almost as if you were his caretaker instead of another prisoner.”
Mia frowned at the Doctor, shaking her head lightly “I wasn’t his caretaker, I was his friend.”
Dr. Harding nodded and wrote something down, confusing Mia further.
She was beginning to hate this notebook.
“Okay, let’s leave it for now. You said that you travelled, let’s go back to that.” Dr. Harding extended her hand, in a “go on” motion.
Still unnerved and confused, Mia blinked but continued from where she left off.
“Our group was small, ten women and girls. Two boys. Mothers, sisters, widows and sons.” she clasped her hands together, staring down at them as she spoke “We were beaten, starved and weak, but we clawed our way out. Looking back, it was insanity and luck that led us to this small success.”
Mia sighed lightly, feeling worn but she was determined to continue on.
“We walked for weeks, hills, mountains and forests were the only thing we saw. But still, we walked, hoping to escape the hell we left. It was foolish to imagine that it would be different there. Because it wasn’t.”
Mia shifted in her seat and sighed heavily, while Dr. Harding continued to silently sit and listen.
“We were found, shot like animals. Those of us who could, scattered and ran without a sense of direction. Only adrenaline and the will to live leading us away from the troops and bodies of our fallen friends and neighbours.
Vision of snow covered forest and darkness flooded her head, but she shook it off.
“I was alone.” she whispered, her eyes turning towards the window where autumn reminded her of where she was “Lost my shoe somewhere along the way, my bag and hat. It was cold, but day and night I moved, sleeping only briefly during the day when it was warmer.
I can’t tell you how long it all lasted. I barely remember half of it… But, unknowingly to me, instead of heading for Italy or India like our group planned. I crossed through Hungary into Austria instead. And there I was caught.”
“By the German Forces?” Dr. Harding spoke up, writing something down as she waited for the answer.
Mia shook her head “By HYDRA. I was caught like a child stealing bread… I was tired, cold and hopeless. So like a stupid little girl, I lit a small fire, basically calling them to me.”
“Do you blame yourself for getting caught?” the Doctor asked, looking up from her page.
“How could I not? I was reckless and stupid—”
“Maria. You were young, afraid and alone.” Dr. Harding said gently “You were a civilian, fleeing war and death, you cannot blame yourself for something that was done to you by another.”
“Can’t I? I should’ve known better… Bucky would’ve known better, he wouldn’t—”
“Bucky, was a trained soldier. You were a civilian on the run, with no supplies or advanced survival skills. It wasn’t your fault, Maria.” Dr. Haring pushed, but Mia just stared down, not saying anything.
The Doctor sighed and looked down at her notebook, before shutting it gently.
“Alright. Let’s finish for today.” she said, regaining Mia’s attention. Seeing this, Dr. Harding smiled “Thank you for sharing, Maria. It was very brave of you to open up like this.”
Mia just shrugged and looked towards the door “Can I go now?”
“Yes, Maria. You’re free to leave.”
With a shaky nod, Mia stood up and slowly moved across the room, straight towards the door. But as she reached for the handle, her hand shook violently, making her grit her teeth as she forced herself to slam it down and open it.
Mia ignored the thousand apologies that burned on her tongue, as the handle fell to the floor, broken and twisted.
Instead she hugged herself and rushed down the hall to her room. Ignoring Dr. Harding’s soft sigh as she picked up the broken knob.
Here it is! It’s RAW as hell, but I had this idea for a while, so let me know if it’s something that you’d like to read!
Summary: It's Valentine’s Day. Nothing more than a typical Saturday in the Avengers Facility, but this year, you convince your teammate (and, unbeknownst to you, admirer) Bucky to spend a night on the town together. After all, doesn't pretending to be normal -- just for one night -- sound irresistible?
Word count: Basically 2.7k words of romantic tension.
----
"Hey! Don't touch!"
As you turn the hallway corner to enter the kitchen, you're greeted by the sound of Tony scolding Sam. Tony is holding a pastel purple box above his head, eyes glaring out over his sunglasses.
"I didn't, man," Sam exclaims, both palms open in a defensive gesture. "I just wanted to see what it was!"
Steve is seated next to Sam at the kitchen counter and he gives you a little g'morning nod as you enter the room.
"Wow, early start the bickering today," you tease. You stride over the the cabinet to reach for a coffee mug. "Were you out this morning, Tony?"
You gesture to the sunglasses now perched on your dark-haired teammate's head.
"There's this bakery on South Street. You know. Burton's? You have to get there early because it's really popular. Anyways," Tony explains in his typical rapid-fire, hyper manner while placing the box in the fridge. "They have this white chocolate mousse cake. It's honestly just decent, but Pep goes crazy for it. We got it on one of our first dates, so I think it's really just some sort of olfactory good-warm-fuzzy-feeling association, but regardless... Mousse cake."
"Uh, cool, man," replies Sam with a confused look. "What's the occasion?"
Tony looks up at Sam with squinted eyes. Then, to you and Steve, seeming baffled at your equally blank faces.
"You lot are so depressing. Like, wow," Tony finally remarks dryly. "It's Valentine's Day. Sheesh."
With that, Tony sighs, spins on his heels, and strides out of the kitchen.
"How were we supposed to know that?" Steve asks blankly, turning to you and Sam.
"I guess it does come every year," you reply with a chuckle. "Maybe we are depressing."
You blow on your mug of fresh coffee. Morning sun is trickling in through the large Facility windows, bathing the room in gold. You sigh deeply. It really had been a while since romance was on your mind. Being an Avenger was a tough job -- unrelenting -- and honestly, some days, you felt less like a real human and more like a robot just going through the motions.
A few moments later, Bucky strolls in.
"Mornin'," he says sleepily, nodding to you and the others.
You knew that Bucky never slept well. In the three or so years you've known him, he's been consistently plagued with nightmares and insomnia. Your eyes follow him as he pours his own mug of coffee and starts rummaging through the pantry for breakfast.
"Any big V-Day plans, Buck?" asks Sam with a smirk, knowing well and good that his friend did not.
Bucky looks briefly confused, but then shakes his head with a scoff.
"Haven't had Valentine's Day plans since '41."
"But," Steve interjects, suddenly excited. "If I'm remembering correctly, that was one crazy night. For you, at least."
Your ears perk up. You loved hearing about Steve and Bucky's life when they were growing up in Brooklyn together.
"Bucky Barnes, the player," you remark with a grin.
"Oh, you have no idea. What was it that year? Fireworks in Central Park, right? And the redhead?" Steve starts to recount with a huge smile on his face.
Sam makes an obnoxious howling sound which causes you to burst into laughter.
"Don't remember, Steve," Bucky says. His words are dry, but you catch a shadow of a grin before he turns around to flip his omelet.
Honestly, you don't hate Valentine's Day like so many people seem to pretend to. You have fond memories of the holiday from years ago, when life was a bit more normal. You reminisce on past boyfriends, fireplace kisses, pasta dinners, and late night laughter. All of those carefree moments seem to have vanished into thin air. Where did they go?
A thought pops into your head.
"Well, if none of you have plans tonight -- let's go see a movie! Walk around the city. Take advantage of some Valentine's Day restaurant specials!"
"I can't," replies Steve. "I got that report to write up for Fury. He's been down my throat about it."
"I don't have an excuse," remarks Sam, cocking his head to the side. "But Valentine's Day's just not my speed."
You scowl at him and groan. You throw your head back in exasperation, eliciting a chuckle from Sam.
"You guys! Don't you just want to do some normal people stuff? For once?" you demand.
"I'd go."
You whip around to face Bucky, who'd been quietly forking eggs into his mouth. To say the least, you're surprised. But you don't let your momentary surprise give him a chance to change his mind.
"Yes!" you say excitedly. "Meet at the front entrance at six."
You grin and skip out of the kitchen before Bucky can object. You were going to have your night of normalcy, one way or another.
----
At exactly 6 p.m., you make your way to the front entrance. You had opted for a long sleeve top, light jacket, and jeans. You even wore a little gold necklace. It didn't really match the outfit, but you were just so excited for a rare opportunity to wear jewelry.
Not two seconds after you reach the front entrance, you hear another set of footsteps coming down the hall. You turn around, and... wow. Bucky looks, well, really good. He's wearing a grey cotton shirt under a black bomber jacket, dark jeans, and of course, his black leather gloves to cover his hands from the prying eyes of onlookers. You weren't used to seeing him in anything other than his Winter Soldier suit or workout gear, so the sight of Bucky in civilian clothes was refreshing. You can't deny that he looks absolutely handsome.
"Hey. Ready?" he says when he reaches you.
As the two of you stroll out towards the garage together, you catch a whiff of something warm, oaky, and enticing. Is Bucky wearing cologne?
---
"Y/L/N. Party of two," you tell the hostess once you're inside the restaurant.
You'd found this place via a quick Google search -- punching in "towns near me" and "ramen." You'd just picked the one with the best reviews and least health code infringements, so you were pleasantly surprised. The atmosphere is lively yet cozy, the air filled with the chatter of happy patrons and the smell of gourmet ramen. It's warm, a welcome contrast to the brisk February chill outside.
After Bucky takes his seat across from you at the small table, he looks around the interior curiously.
"I didn't know Upstate New York had Japanese food," he says.
"Me neither," you reply, picking up the paper menu to study it. "Ramen's my favorite, though. I hope it's good."
Bucky picks up his menu, too.
"Never had it before. Hey, what's shoyu?"
You giggle at him and start going over the Japanese terminology. The two of you order and make small talk, waiting for your food to come out.
“Far cry from Brooklyn, isn’t it? Best I could do,” you joke, looking around the cozy interior.
“I actually quite like this,” Bucky replies, breaking his chopsticks. “I don’t think city life suits me anymore. Way back when, I loved New York. But now, this is more my speed, actually.”
“You’re such a senior citizen.”
“Hey,” Bucky exclaims with a smirk, feigning offense.
The waitress brings your food over, and the smell is heavenly. Two big, steaming bowls of noodles are placed on the table, and your mouth waters.
“This looks amazing,” Bucky says, about to plunge his chopsticks into the noodles.
“Wait!” you say before he can dig in.
Bucky gives you a quizzical look as you reach for the white bottle of sake between you. You set out two glasses and gingerly pour Bucky a shot with two hands. You then fill your own glass.
“Tradition,” you explain, lifting you glass. “The younger one always pours for the elder, you old man. Now, cheers!”
He rolls his eyes playfully before clinking his glass to yours. You both swallow the sake in one go. You scrunch your nose as the alcohol burns your throat. Bucky seems unfazed.
“So, you never get drunk? Like you physically can’t?” you ask, reaching for your spoon.
“Nope," he replies. "Honestly, I can't even remember what it's like to feel drunk."
You watch as your teammate gingerly attempts to wrangle a noodle in his chopsticks. He shakily brings the bite to his mouth before it slips from his grasp, falling back into the broth. A little splash of soup hits him in the chin. You stifle your laughter as he scowls and reaches for his napkin. Bucky cracks a grin and starts to chuckle alongside you. The pure authenticity of his smile lights something inside of you.
That smile. Bucky really was devilishly handsome.
You and Bucky finish your meal, chatting and joking with ease. You loved seeing this side of your teammate. Just from talking to him, you could tell that his true nature -- before the Winter Soldier -- was carefree, joyful, kind. You felt like you were getting a peek into the past. As if you were actually in the year 1941, sitting across from a young and hopeful army enlistee. So full of life and potential.
When the bill comes, Bucky swipes it from the waitress’ hand before you can grab it first.
“Hey! Let me pay,” you protest. “I’m the one who asked you to come out tonight.”
He ignores your outstretched hand, taking a few bills from his wallet and closing the little leather bill-holder.
“I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy,” he says matter-of-factly. “Please don’t call me sexist for wanting to treat a girl on Valentine’s Day.”
You swear you feel the lightest shadow of blush rise of your cheeks. There was something so endearing about the gesture that you don’t even argue further. You just thank you and give him a smile.
When you exit the restaurant, the February night was chillier. A delicate flurry of snow had begun to fall. The gossamer flakes are illuminated by the flow of each yellow streetlamp as the two of you pass by, walking to the car. You cross paths on the sidewalk with numerous other pairs, many of them holding hands or walking with arms draped around one another. You sigh contently. A gross cliché, you think to yourself, but love is truly in the air. This. This was nice.
You reach your car where it’s parked on the street corner and hastily pull open the passenger side door. Once you’re both inside, you let out an audible shiver.
“Brrrr,” you say aloud, wrapping your jacket tighter around your frame. “It got cold while we were in there.”
Bucky inserts the key into the ignition and starts the engine. He quickly fumbles with the control dials, blasting warm air into the car’s interior.
“Warming up?” he asks after a moment, looking over to you.
You nod, giving him a smile.
“Back to the compound?” you suggest.
Bucky’s hands are on the wheel, but the rest of him is frozen still. He seems to be pondering something. You give him a quizzical look.
“Forget how to drive?" you tease.
"Y/N," Bucky says, suddenly serious. "Can I ask you something?"
You feel that familiar combination of anxiety and intrigue rise up in your throat.
"What's up?"
"Were you disappointed that only I wanted to come tonight?"
Your eyes shoot over to your friend. He has his hands still clutched on the wheel, his gaze directed straight ahead through the windshield. His dark brown hair shields his face from your side of the car.
"Bucky," you start, turning your body slightly towards him. "God, no. I was so happy when you said you wanted to come. I love hanging out with you."
Bucky's shoulders relax a bit at this, and he raises a gloved hand to his face to brush a strand of loose hair behind his ear.
"It's just that Sam and Steve are so fun. They're always so carefree and happy and you know... not me."
His voice comes out soft, almost defeated. It's apparent that this has been weighing on the soldier's mind, and something about that realization makes your heart ache.
"Yeah. You're right. They're not you," you begin. Bucky's eyes finally meet yours, anxiously awaiting your next words. "And that's a good thing."
Bucky lets out a small, sighing laugh as if he doesn't believe you.
"I was just worried you felt weird. Or disappointed. Or both," he says. "Girls don't tend to like me much these days."
You smile at him warmly.
"Honestly, I think I prefer the dark-and-brooding look," you remark with a laugh. This earns an amused chuckle from Bucky as well. "I've seen the photos of you and Steve from the 40s. The Golden Boy thing wasn't really doing it for me."
You laugh together, and for a moment, that genuine smile returns to Bucky's face. The two of you lock eyes for a split second before you turn away, a sneaky blush tinging your cheeks.
You and Bucky sit for a few minutes in pleasant silence. The only sound is the hum of the air conditioning heating the interior, and for a moment, everything feels right. Suddenly, you're in high school again. You're a silly teenager, falling for the boy on the football team. You're sitting, parked, in the school lot, taking refuge under darkness of the night. Your mom is probably starting to get mad that you're out so late, but you don't care. Not right now. It's that moment of tense silence -- right before he kisses you -- and you're wanting him, wanting him, wanting...
"Thank you," Bucky suddenly blurts, shattering the quiet.
"What for?"
You note the nervous look in Bucky's eyes. The way he shuffles in his seat, trying to look confident and cool all at once. You smile.
"I usually feel like such a freak all the time," he finally replies. "The last time I felt like a normal guy was seventy years ago. I guess, I just thought my days of going out on the town with a pretty girl were long gone."
You can't help but blush at his comment. He thinks I'm pretty?
"But tonight," he continues. "I wish it never had to end. It's nice feeling normal."
He holds your gaze, and this time, you don't turn away. God, he is so handsome. James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. Buck. Friend.
And there they are again. Those high school, fluttering-madly-in-the-stomach butterflies. What was happening to you?
"I think I like Valentine's Day again," you finally say. The words pass through your lips in a whisper.
Bucky laughs, grinning that oh-so-handsome and mysterious grin. His expression softens a touch, and you see his eyes flicker down to your mouth. But just as quickly as the moment rises, it's gone. It's as if the reins were yanked back, saying 'no, you can't.' Why? A million reasons. You're teammates. You're friends. He's the Winter Soldier. He's scared. He's doesn't trust himself enough yet.
The butterflies are still there as Bucky clears his throat, turning back to the wheel. He puts the car into 'drive' and pulls away from the curb, starting the journey back to the Facility.
You sink back into the passenger seat. You can't help but bite your bottom lip, simultaneously wanting to stay silent and dying to speak. Nothing comes out.
However, in a moment's notice, you feel your disappointment rapidly transforming into a blushing grin. Yes, this was like high school all over again. This was real life all over again. You feel pleased because, deep down, you know that the ride is just beginning. The moment before the kiss. The late night calls. The silently daring one another to make the first move. Fingertips, innocently brushing one another. Stolen glances and the thrill of the uncertainty. The falling.
You gaze out the window peacefully, watching the darkness whizz past.
Author’s Notes: Thank you all for the kind and enthusiastic response to the first chapter. Here’s chapter two for ya’ll. I hope you like it. I have a feeling this series with hit at least ten chapters but that means high word counts so hopefully that isn’t an issue.
AU: Farmhand!AU and SingleMom!Reader
Word Count:
Notes/Warnings: (Notes are for the whole series) FLUFF, mentions of a past toxic relationship, a wild storm at the end, drama and a break-up, mentions of drinking, kids being adorable and ridiculous, kissing, romance and a tiny bit of angst if you look hard but nothing more than that of a Hallmark movie.
Masterlist Series Masterlist
Bucky dropped Steve off at the store and then made his way to the address on the napkin. He turned off the highway onto a dirt road. He drove for about three miles or so down the tree lined drive. He took his final turn into an open but very busted gate. The fencing that lined the property was made of wood and was rotting in a few places. He figured that was probably on the list of things he might be doing.
He kept driving and saw that both of the fields on either side of him were overgrown. The fences were covered with saplings, vines and weeds. The fields beyond them were waist high with wheat colored grass and broom straw. He added that to his mental list. This dirt road ran for just over a mile and then he came into view of the house. It was a white two story with a wrap around porch. There was a large slab of old concrete that was being used to park cars. It held an orange tractor-mower, a Burgundy Ford and three electric kids cars. Two were pink and one looked like a little John Deer tractor.
Okay, so kids, that’s fun.
Bucky parked where he wouldn’t be in the way and got out of his truck. Two little girls, no older than ten, ran out of the front door laughing, each carrying their own basket. They didn’t even see Bucky and ran in the opposite direction, disappearing behind the house.
Bucky looked around the yard and saw a third field directly across from the front door. It was about forty yards from the porch but it was lush with greens and scattered bright colors. The field, that was also lined with a worn down fence, was a massive garden.
He could only pick out a few types of plants, though; tomatoes, cabbage, some kind of hanging gourd and (at his best guess) carrots.
A woman stood up from behind a thick patch of greens. Her hair was braided back and she had gardening gloves on. She was wearing a yellow tee-shirt, jeans and black rubber boots. She picked up a basket and started walking towards Bucky.
He slid his hands into his pockets and nodded his head her way. She waved briefly and closed the gate behind her.
Bucky could see her basket was full of freshly harvested radishes.
She reached a hand out, “Hi, I’m Y/N.”
Bucky shook it with another nod. “Bucky. Well, James. James Barnes but call me Bucky.” Bucky cursed in his head.
Y/N smiled. “Nice to meet you, Bucky.”
He froze at her smile. She was stunning. She had dirt on her cheek and a little sweat on her forehead but it only seemed to add to her beauty.
Her brow furrowed and she used a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked out over her property. “So, I need all of the fields cut and the fence lines cleaned. That will all probably take you at least a week. Then I’ll need the front field bailed but I have to rent the machine. And I’m sure you’ve noticed the fences are busted in several spots, we used to have cows, and one of Gavin’s bulls took out a few posts in a fit. And-”
“Wait, I’m sorry.” Bucky jumped in as politely as he could. “So, I have the job?”
“Isn’t that why you came?” She looked a little confused.
“But you don’t even know me.” He said.
Y/N smiled. “You come highly recommended, Sergeant.” She leaned on one leg and rested her basket on her hip.
Bucky ticked his head to the side and then it dawned on him. “Steve called you.”
She nodded once. “He did.” She grinned.
Bucky could have melted from the softness of her smile.
“You can run a field mower, right?” She asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay, great. I put the keys on the seat for you.” She said over her shoulder as she began to walk away. “I’ll be in the yellow barn for a bit but if you can’t find me there give me a ring.”
“Will do.” He said to himself as he watched her walk away for a minute. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. He cursed Steve under his breath.
* * * *
Bucky ran the mower for five hours. Somewhere in the middle Y/N called him back to the house for water and lunch but he insisted he only needed the water and that he’d take a bottle to-go if she had it, which she did.
Her property was huge, he guessed at least 250 acres. He didn’t even finish half of the first field. He pulled the Tractor back to where it was parked when he pulled up, then he tried to brush as much of the dust off of him as he could.
He could feel a sunburn on the back of his neck and decided that he’d either need a real hat or something to cover the skin above his collar.
He walked up the front steps and knocked on the door.
He heard little bare feet slapping on hardwood and running his way. The door opened and a little blonde baby was grinning up at him. “Hi!” She beamed.
“Hi,” He smiled back. “Is your mom around?”
“MOMMA!” She shouted.
A faint voice called back, “Comin’, baby!”
Bucky smiled.
The girl grabbed his hand. “I’m Lex. You should come inside. Momma doesn’t like it when the front door is left open.” She tugged on him and he conceded. Lex closed the door and then left him there.
Another girl walked past and when she noticed him her eyes grew wide. She very clearly had no idea who he was.
“Momma,” She started as she backed away.
Y/N appeared from around the corner and her gait faltered when she saw Bucky in the house. She put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders.
“Bucky, who let you in?”
Bucky had clearly crossed a line. He backed up, taking a step towards the door. “I’m sorry, Lex-”
Y/N rolled her eyes and sighed, relieved. “Of course, Lex.”
The daughter at Y/N’s side twisted and shouted as she disappeared, “Lex! You can’t just let people in the house!”
“But momma does it!” A faint Lex shouted back.
“Momma is the grown-up, she’s supposed to!”
“Gracie quit yellin’ at your sister!” Y/N turned back to Bucky. “I’m sorry. Kids.” She chuckled.
“I was just about to head out but wanted to know what time you’d like me tomorrow.” He confessed.
“Oh, umm.” She put her hands at her hips. “How about eight? I’ll pay you for a full day's work today but I’d figured that you could work eight to three for the most part. Weather pending, of course.”
He nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
“Great. Oh! Will you come write down your information so I can pay you?” She waived him over and headed down the hall.
Bucky followed as she turned a corner and ended up in a massive kitchen that spilled into the family room.
“I’ll pay you weekly at twenty two an hour if that works?”
Bucky’s eyes went a bit wide. “Yes, ma’am that works for me.”
She looked over at him as she grabbed a pen and pad from a small basket on the counter. “Stop calling me ‘Ma’am’. Just Y/N is fine.”
He nodded as he wrote down his name and number and address. “Will I get to meet your husband?” he’d meant it innocently.
Y/N turned and said, “He passed a few years ago,” with no tone whatsoever.
Bucky jerked his head up. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
She held a hand up and plastered on that gentle smile. “It’s fine. Really.”
Bucky handed her the pad and pen back.
“So, will a check work?” She asked.
“Sure, that’s fine.” He smiled back. He felt bad for bringing up her dead husband. He also felt bad knowing she had kids. “I appreciate the work.”
“I appreciate the help.”
There was an awkward pause so Bucky tried to fill it, “I’m sorry for coming into the house when I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean to scare your daughter.”
“Who, Gracie? Nah, she’s tough. She was probably trying to decide if she was gonna grab a bat.” Y/N chuckled. “Lexie, on the other hand, needs some work on her stranger danger skills. She’s only five but that girl is another kind of fearless.”
Bucky laughed. “Well, hopefully I fall out of the stranger category, now.”
Y/n nodded. “Steve vouched for you so, I’d say you’re good.”
“Did he really call you?”
“He did.”
Bucky shook his head. He made a note to punch Steve real hard.
“I’ve known Steve since before Gavin died. He’s a good man. He mentioned you a lot. I’m glad to finally meet you.”
Y/N met Bucky’s eyes and they stayed like that for a moment.
“Mom! Lex won’t give me my Legos back!” Gracie yelled from up stairs. A smaller scream followed little running footsteps.
Y/N sighed and put a hand to her head. “I should take care of that.”
Bucky jerked from his spot against the counter. “Yeah, yeah. Of course, sorry. I’ll let you get to it.”
“Yeah, thanks.” She followed him to the front door. “Feel free to use whatever you need in the morning. If it’s on the property you can use it or fix it. I’ll have a full list of everything I need done, too. You’re welcome to leave for lunch whenever you’d like or eat up here.”
“Thank you.” He smiled at her as he stepped through the door. “Have a good evening.”
“You, too. Good night, Bucky.”
He jogged down the steps and hopped in his truck. He suddenly got the feeling he was going to love his job.
Makes it sound like there was only one, doesn’t it? One assassin, one soldier, one life stolen and taken over to be used as a tool for evil minds. There was never only one. Hydra’s bloodstained hands, people called them. And once one’s hands have been bathed in blood so many times, it’s near impossible to look at the skin and not see red. Yet, when Hydra has been pushed out into the open by the Avengers there’s the slightest flicker of hope for the asset left behind. You see, I never had a Steve Rogers. No one is looking for me. The only person I’ve ever had is the one I was trapped with, the one that’s now free. The one who, if he finds me, I will surely destroy.
Warnings: language, violence, angst, feels, hatred (you’re gonna hate me)
A/N: This one was tough. I had to take a break after writing the first part because that was sad in its own right but then I wrote the rest and I’ve been crying for the past hour so ugh...I don’t want to give anything away so, I’ll leave it at that. As always, if you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work! You’re the best and I hope you enjoy this new chapter! xoxo
*gifs made using the DU GIF Maker app on my S8+ It’s a cool app! Easy to use.
Bucky has known loss in his life. He’s lost his entire family, save for his best friend who he was lucky enough to find again in his second chance at life. But this loss, the loss of you, is unlike anything he’s ever felt before.
In the peaceful moments of the night, in the solitude of his hut, staring up at the thatch roof of his quiet home Bucky had on occasion allowed himself to imagine the future. If he wasn’t so dangerous, if he could get control of himself and ensure that you would never be in danger again then maybe he could be with you. He could hold you. He could grab your hand and walk with you as the sun set. He could do silly things like take you on picnics and even take you dancing. And because he knows that your training is important to you, he could go on missions with you. What better way to keep you safe?
He’d allowed himself to picture the two of you together, living life for each other, happy, content, and maybe one day if it were possible, starting a family? The world was hell and the pain he’s felt over the years serve to remind Bucky of the terrible reality that is existence. And yet, with you, he would smile as thoughts of having a child with you—a daughter who was just as clumsy and perhaps just as stubborn—consumed him as he drifted to sleep.
Now, knowing what he knows, these thoughts feel like a distant fantasy. He leans up against the gate of his goat pen, watching the animals graze. A kid hops up and down, sporadically twisting its body as it jumps on the back of a resting doe. She bleats in annoyance as the kid scampers off to bother a small group huddled around their feed.
As the sky darkens overhead, storm clouds rolling in as thunder rumbles announcing its arrival, Bucky steps away from the pen and moves to clean up his work area before the storm hits.
He stops, staring at Kara who lingers awkwardly by his cart. She’s reaching towards the bundle of hay still unbroken on the cart’s edge and pulls a single blade free which she then twirls between her slender fingers. Her long dark hair is gathered over her right shoulder, a bruise on her neck serves as proof of her mission with Nakia. Bucky moves towards her, stopping at the other end of his cart leaving only three feet between them.
“I’ve been back for a week, Sergeant Barnes.” Her full lips are twist into a small pout as she looks up into his steel blue eyes, staring down at her with a strange mixture of resignation and annoyance.
“I know.” Bucky tells her, his voice lazy and neutral.
“I would have thought that you’d come to see me.” She sounds confused and Bucky narrows his eyes in his own form of confusion.
“Why?”
His words sting her, he can see it in the way she tightens her jaw. She tosses the blade of straw onto the ground and sighs.
“After what happened at the club I thought-”
“After what happened at the club?” Bucky’s voice hardens, and he takes a step closer to her, shortening the distance to two feet.
“I…” Kara blushes, her tanned cheeks darkening to a toasty peach. “I kissed you. I thought-”
“I never asked you for that kiss.” Bucky states, his voice cold and his eyes withdrawn. Kara looks up into them, her own blues wide in disbelief with the hint of outrage and pain behind the carefully controlled expression.
“But-” She protests. He takes another step towards her so that he’s standing almost right up against her, his face only inches away from her own.
“I’m going to make myself very clear, Kara. If I wanted to kiss you, I would have.” He can see the way his words are a slap in the face for her. “And I don’t want to kiss you. Whatever it is you have for me, get over it. I’m never going to feel the same way you do.”
He feels himself getting angry as she scoffs at his words, frowning up at him in her own anger. Bucky’s voice drops down to a dangerous whisper as he leans in towards her ear. “I know that you only did it because you knew she’d be watching.”
He pulls back to look into her face and sees the shock on her face as she’s discovered.
“Nobody knows the kind of person you really are and if you want to keep it that way, I suggest you start living a better life. Focus on your training and forget whatever fantasy you have about me. Trust me when I tell you that I’m not the man you think I am.”
Kara scoffs again and pulls away, turns around, and stomps back the way she came. Bucky watches her go feeling a strange sense of relief to have finally told her how he really feels. Too late of course. But at least she knows now that she has no chance.
As Bucky picks up his pitchfork and begins to scoop the leftover hay back onto the card his mind wanders. It kills him to think that he’s hurt you, put his hands on you however unintentionally and left you scarred and bruised.
His heart aches as he remembers the black of your forearm and elbow when he’d grabbed you too hard only a few feet away from here, right outside of his hut. He’d been so overcome with anxiety. He could see you falling for him and he couldn’t have that. Why did you have to be jealous of Kara during that first night at the club? Why did you have to dance with Steve and look so at ease in his arms? Why did you have to run away and make him need to follow you to make sure that you weren’t too hurt? He just wanted to keep you safe and being with him wasn’t safe. Then he was grabbing you, his frustration uncontrollable and he hadn’t realized how tight his grip was. He hurt you, so he chased you away.
It’s better that way.
Bucky sighs as he pulls the tarp over the cart then easily pushes it into place beside the pen as thunder rumbles overhead and the wind picks up. It wraps around him, hot and strangely soothing as he moves into his hut. He has to duck because the doorway is short. He moves to the single chair beside the small brick cooking pit. He reaches for a sealed pitcher and a cheap ceramic glass and pours himself a cup of water. As he hydrates, his mind wanders to the training room and your training with the quarterstaff.
For a brief few hours he’d been under the delusion that now, having gone under one final time to wipe his mind of all remaining traces of Hydra’s programming, you and he might really be able to do something. He might finally be able to give in to his feelings for you.
Watching you work hard, swinging the staff with as much strength as you could muster, it took every fiber of his being to keep from tossing his staff aside to take you into his arms. He’d been a fool to think that he might, at last, be able to kiss you. To caress you and explain why he was doing it so that you didn’t get that confused look on your face every time he accidentally let his emotions get the better of him. He knew back then that he’d need to make up his mind soon. He couldn’t keep this up much longer both for you and for his own sanity.
As Bucky drinks the rest of his water, staring with dead eyes across the hut at the orange adobe wall, he scoffs. He’d finally made up his mind and it was too late. He looks down at the ground of his hut and shakes his head. He deserves to suffer alone. He hopes that whatever you might be doing, you’re healthy and well. If all he can have is the knowledge that you’re happy even if that means you’re eventually in the arms of another man—his hand reflexively clenches at the thought of you in someone else’s arms, kissing someone else’s lips and smashes the glass he’s holding—then he’ll gladly live out his life focused on the fight.
Another week passes and with a month gone, you’ve completely settled into your new routines. Breakfast with Vis is definitely the highlight as you get to spend time in pleasing company. Tony has been hanging out much more and you’re happy to see that he’s warmed up to you some. He doesn’t tease you as much and he even shows he’s concerned about you in small ways. He takes care of you, offering you new clothes, food, drink, advice, specifically dating advice.
It happened a week ago. You were in the archive, scanning new reports when like always, Allen made his way in. Little did Allen know that Tony was messing with one of the servers a few aisles down.
“How are you today, Y/N?” Allen asks.
He keeps his distance this time, holding his report neatly in his hands at his front and patiently waits for you to answer.
“I’m good. Thanks. Another security breach?” You hold out your hand for the report and Allen willingly hands it over, keeping the distance between you.
“Yeah. I caught the guy this time though. Some guy in black gear. No insignia. Strange really. It kind of reminded me of the old Hydra uniforms we used to see in training but it was slightly different. I’ve never seen anything like them. They were cheaper. Almost homemade looking.” Allen’s green eyes are serious and for once you forget that he’s got taking you out on his mind and that he’d promised he wouldn’t give up.
“Hydra-like uniforms?” You ask, curious as you spread the papers of his mission report out on the panel.
“Yeah.” He agrees.
“But you said it wasn’t Hydra?” You look back up at him and see he’s moved closer. Probably excited by the interest you’re showing.
“No. It wasn’t. Hydra soldiers kill themselves when they’re caught like the cowardly bitches they are. This guy just let himself get caught. Didn’t even resist when I caught up to him. He wouldn’t say anything but there are ways of making him talk.” Allen finishes darkly.
Your eyes find his and for a moment you see the true government trained agent reflected back at you. Maybe you’d been downplaying his capabilities because all of his reports were so inconsequential. You suddenly realize that this man, sculpted from marble it looks like, is a highly trained agent capable of killing a man in many ways, you’re sure.
“Right. Not Hydra?” You ask again, making sure as you think back to that last terrible night you spent in Wakanda.
“No.” Allen says with a laugh; his face relaxes and shifts from dangerous asset to smiling angel. “Why?”
You pile up the finished report and bite down on your bottom lip. Allen had been spending as much time around you as he could. He always invites you to lunch and at first you refused but when he assured you he meant nothing by it you agreed if only to get out of your own head for an hour. You still think about Bucky all the time and it’s exhausting trying to force your focus onto something else.
With Allen and his friends in the mess hall, you find it easier to put Wakanda behind you. And Allen has kept his word. He hasn’t asked you out again and he doesn’t try to push himself on you. He gives you space, and he’s been a good friend more than anything. So, when you look at him, you find it easy to speak.
“Before I came here, I was training in Wakanda with—” Don’t say Bucky! “—Captain America and a few other highly trained people.”
“Woah are you serious?!” Allen asks excitedly.
“The last night that I was there, the reason I was brought here is because Hydra agents attacked. I was injured saving a friend and Steve thought that maybe Hydra was after me specifically.” You sigh, reaching down to shove the reports in the shredder before you rub at the scar on your right hand.
“Steve? Captain America? You’re on first name basis with him?!” Allen is seriously impressed then realizes that he’s asking the wrong questions. “Sorry, I’ve just…he’s really cool. Why does he think Hydra is after you?”
“Hydra killed my parents. That’s how Steve and I met. He saved my life and then I asked him to train me and he…he left me in Wakanda to train there.” You suddenly miss Aman. Just thinking about Wakanda drives a sharp pain through your chest. You miss Joshua and Shuri. And…you miss Bucky. Even scowling at you, hating you, annoyed and frustrated with you. You want to be near him and it hurts to think about him. But you know that it’s not right. Not healthy. So, you try and forget. But you can’t completely. Your resolve to stay away from him is firm and you’re never going to go back to Wakanda, but you can’t help but think about him.
“Oh, I’m…I’m sorry, Y/N.”
You shut your eyes missing your parents so much it takes your breath away. Missing Bucky so much that tears begin to sting your eyes. “It’s okay.”
Allen’s hand reaches over your work station and he takes your scarred hand in it. His hands are so huge. And they’re so warm. You shut your eyes, missing the way that Bucky’s hand felt around yours the few times he’d been willing to hold it. You still remember the gentle way his fingers grazed your palm as he wrapped up your hand in the training center. The way he’d taken your hand in the medical facility when Shuri was planning to put him under again. He hadn’t been shy about holding your hand there.
Then the night that you left, those soft simple grazes against your pinky and the way his pinky hooked around your own and the promise of what was to come made you overwhelmingly happy.
You’re suddenly crying, and you don’t realize it.
“Y/N?” Allen pleads gently.
“I’m sorry, I…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You struggle to speak through your tears, wishing that you could go back and relive those soft moments with Bucky.
“Alright, Romeo. Time to go. I think you’ve upset our resident record keeper enough for one day.” Tony suddenly emerges from the servers behind you and Allen, so startled by his presence drops your hand.
You turn around to look at Tony with tear-filled eyes and watch him move up beside you, frowning up at Allen. “Don’t you have another mission to get to? Security breach maybe?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Okay, then, be gone.” Tony waves him away.
Allen turns to go but then pauses as he reaches the doors.
“Y/N, can I please buy you dinner?” Brave motherfucker! In front of Tony?!
You stare at him, mouth agape, out of sorts from your rollercoaster of emotions. When you don’t answer, Tony sighs.
“It’s a date. Now go on, get. She’ll meet you on the lawn later.” Tony waves him away again.
You look away from Allen in complete shock as you eye Tony with a sudden rage. Once Allen is gone, you find your voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“What?” Tony reaches down and places his hand on the panel, lifts it up, and sifts through them alphabetically until he reaches the S’s. He filters through them and stops at Staloch, Allen then with two hands he spreads the digital files out along the panel and slowly begins to go through them. “Did you see that guy? He’s way too good looking for you. A guy like that asks you out, you say yes.”
What the fuck?
You frown at him for the not so veiled insult. “I didn’t ask you to butt into my love life.”
“No. You didn’t but trust me, whoever it is you’re trying to get over, that guy,” He points at the door, not looking up. “That is going to help.”
With a surge of anger, you consider mentioning that it’s Bucky, but you seriously don’t want to get kicked out. Better not risk it.
“I don’t like Allen that way.” You complain.
“Not yet. Trust me, this guy is no joke. Top of his class. High marks in every category. Look, five stars!” He holds up a digital file so that you can see the ranking on the file.
“Tony, I don’t care about any of that.” You grumble.
“You should. I was looking at the report for the attack on your house and I think I’m going to have to side with Captain Freedom. I don’t think Hydra’s attack on you and your parents was a coincidence. And since they seem to keep coming…I think it’s safe to assume they’re after you.” He looks at you and gives you a grimace as he breaks the bad news.
“They can’t be after me. I’m nobody. They were probably after-” Don’t mention Bucky! “That’s impossible.”
Tony narrows his eyes as you suddenly shift your sentence. “After who?”
“What does Hydra being after me have to do with Allen?” You demand.
He can see your deflection however. He isn’t fooled.
“If they come back, how nice will it be to have a boyfriend who can help you fight them off?”
“Why does he have to be my boyfriend?” You ask, agitated and wishing Bucky would stop popping into your head.
“Did you see the guy? Anyway, you’ve got a date tonight. You should go get ready. I’ll close up shop.” Tony grabs you, turns you around, and literally pushes you out the door. He locks it once you’re outside. You look in through the thin vertical windows, glaring at the nosy man.
“Do something about your face. It’s all-“ He passes his hand over his face wrinkling his nose with disgust. “-just do something with it.”
The he waves at you, a huge smile spreading across his lips.
Things became different since that day. Tony is more caring, yes, but you’re pretty sure he’s just contributing to keeping a closer eye on you.
You also still think he’s wrong. Hydra can’t be after you. You’re nobody. You’re not from a rich family, far from in fact. You’re not from a particularly political one and you’re not enhanced or special in any significant way. You’re not super smart like Shuri. You have nothing to give anyone other than your determination to try your hardest at whatever it is you do.
Like clockwork, at half past seven, as you reach over the island, straining to grab a piece of toast, a long and muscular tanned arm reaches around you and grabs the toast for you. You sit back, not surprised by this anymore as it’s happened every day since that stupid day in the archive.
The hand offers you the piece of toast and you take it. “Thanks.” You reach for the jam and begin to apply a generous amount.
“Good morning, Mr. Stark.” Allen greets Tony, more relaxed now that he’s become a semi-permanent fixture in the mornings. Vision looks up at the sound of Allen’s voice and you see the slightest hint of disapproval on his face.
“Hmm.” Tony replies, too busy eating and looking at something on his special phone to greet Allen properly.
“Vision? How are you this morning?” Allen says, turning his gaze on Vis. He places his hands on your shoulders and gently massages them, squeezing them lightly with affection.
“Much better than some, I suspect. Are you wanting something to eat? Only, I am out of eggs.” Vis is always polite despite the clear dislike for Allen that he has. Well, okay, maybe not clear. You can see that he doesn’t like him because you’ve spent so much time with him. To everyone else, he probably just seems politely indifferent.
“Naw, no thanks. I already had some breakfast in the mess hall.” Allen’s deep voice vibrates through his chest. You can feel it against your back. He leans against you, pressing his lips to the top of your head as you munch away at your food.
You zone out, thinking back to the night all of this with Allen happened. Thanks to Tony’s pushing you’d gone on that date with him and one night was enough to tell you that Tony was right. Though you’d been hesitant at first you realized that as the night went on, Bucky was on your mind less and less. By the end you’d forgotten him almost completely. At least while Allen was with you. When you were back in your room, alone, staring at that one drawer you never opened, you felt the full force of your despair return.
So, Allen had taken you out on two more dates. By the third he was resolved to make you his girlfriend and though you felt guilty for using him, you agreed. You also felt guilty about Bucky. It had been a month since you’d been with him…but you had to be honest with yourself. The two of you had never been together. He had never even told you he liked you.
Over the next week after your dates, you and Allen grew closer and now you’re happy to say that you do like him…a bit. Nowhere near as much as you like…him. But it’s enough. You need to move on and this is your first step.
Allen leans around your left side, resting his left elbow on the island so that he can get a look at your face. “What do you say we blow off training and just go to the zoo?”
He’s always trying to find ways of turning your days of training into dates. It’s refreshing that he wants to have you around and he isn’t shy about it.
“Negative.” Tony says, looking up at the two of you. Allen has his right arm wrapped around your shoulders. Tony frowns, looking slightly disgusted at the intimate nature of you sitting there and Allen basically engulfing you in his arms. “Do you have to do that while I’m eating?”
Allen tightens his lips, a small laugh subdued behind them as he straightens up. “Sorry.”
You frown however, if Allen wants to hug you, he can hug you. “You’re the one who pushed us together. Now you’re whining?”
“I didn’t want to watch it happen.” Tony argues. “Anyway, no you can’t skip your training. Or you’ll end up like your friend, what’s his face? How’s he doing, by the way?”
Allen’s brilliant face falls as he rubs your shoulder. He drops his hand and since he remains on your left you reach over and take his right hand. Hector was Allen’s closest friend here on the compound and three days ago he’d been with Allen on mission, chasing more possible Hydra agents. This time, they actually found the real thing. Hector found them first and when Allen finally caught up he found his friend gruesomely mutilated.
“He’s recovering but he’s…uh…given up on himself. This was all he ever wanted to do. With both arms and a leg gone…” Allen has to stop to recover his bravado. “…he’s not doing very well.”
You put your fork down and wrap your arm around his waist, giving him comfort as much as you can. Your heart hurts for him and his friend. You’d met Hector twice. He was really loud, but sweet and he’d been very vocal about teasing Allen about liking you. Knowing that he was no longer that loud funny guy full of life makes you sad for both him and Allen.
Allen looks down at you, sad but grateful for your embrace and reaches up with his now free hand to gently stroke the hair by your right ear.
“He’s strong. And I’m sure we can find him a way to continue his training.” Tony assures him.
“Hector’s family isn’t rich, Mr. Stark. They can’t afford the prosthetics. And even if they could, it would still be impossible for him to continue his training for S.T.R.I.K.E. It just isn’t possible.”
From what you know about S.T.R.I.K.E., an old corrupt Hydra force, since S.H.I.E.L.D.’s fall, it has since been remade, uncorrupt and fielding some of the toughest and strongest agents the government can train. Allen is also set to begin his training with them soon, as soon as he graduates from his cadet training.
“They told me that walking would be impossible.” Rhodey’s voice floats in from the direction of the large lab where Tony stores his Iron Man suits. You remember seeing the Hulk Buster armor for the first time and being in awe at the sheer size of the thing.
“Is the Hulk really this huge?” You look at Vision who nods.
“And quite the handful though I don’t have much experience fighting at his side. He disappeared shortly after Sokovia.”
Allen turns to look at Colonel Rhodes as he walks in and salutes. “Colonel.”
“At ease, cadet. Your friend’s life isn’t over just because he lost a few limbs. Tony’s got an amazing program that helps soldiers injured in the line of duty by supplying the necessary funds when the family can’t afford to do it. Don’t you Tony?” Rhodey moves to the other side of the counter to stand beside Vision.
“He’s right. I’m glad to help in any way that I can.” Tony nods.
“Maybe you can give him a pair of metal arms, eh Tony?” Rhodey says pointedly. The reference is not lost on you and Vision’s eyes find yours as you panic but quickly subdue it.
Your heart is suddenly pounding. You’ve never been so nervous in your entire life. Not just because your mind is suddenly overflowing with thoughts about Bucky, but your arm is still around Allen’s waist and the gesture feels like a lie. A betrayal. To whom though? Betrayal for Bucky? Or Allen? And what reason would Rhodey have to tease Tony about Bucky. This brings Steve’s words back to the front of your mind.
“That’s not happening.” Tony says smoothly. “The last thing we need is another Winter Soldier running around killing people’s parents.” He adds bitterly.
“Wait, what?” You ask, caution thrown to the wind as what Tony says lands hard on your ears, gripping your heart in a vice-like grip. Vision, who’s been watching you turns to Tony.
“His metal arm is not what made Sergeant Barnes kill people. Hydra’s programming did. The metal arm did not make him evil.”
You’re falling through a haze and you’re so close to losing your shit. If you’re understanding these men correctly, Bucky was the Winter Soldier that had apparently bombed that conference in Vienna. That’s the only thing you know the Winter Soldier from. “I-Isn’t he the one that bombed Vienna?”
Your voice is so quiet, so weak that you’re amazed they hear you at all. Vision is the one that speaks first. His words are delivered in a placating tone, assuring you that you have nothing to worry about.
“No, Y/N. Sergeant Barnes was framed by a man named Helmut Zemo who was angry with us about Sokovia and the death of his family.” Vision is trying hard to reassure you that the man you love is not a heartless killer.
“That doesn’t make him innocent.” Tony argues, angrily. He suddenly seems done with the conversation. He gets to his feet and without another word leaves the room.
Rhodey looks at Vision and then at Allen. “Don’t worry, Staloch, Tony keeps his word. He’ll make sure your friend is taken care of. Excuse me.”
With an apple in hand, Rhodey follows Tony.
Vision is looking at you, his brow furrowed as he watches you process the conversation that just transpired.
Allen also seems to notice that you’re processing something because he reaches down to turn your face towards his. His green eyes bore into yours, searching for what might have upset you. “You okay?”
His searching gaze helps you focus. You lick your lips and turn your face away, looking for Vision. When you find his strange eyes, you shake your head. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew that I didn’t know, and you deliberately didn’t tell me?”
Your voice shifts into anger as you realize that everyone knew. Every single person that you’ve met since you arrived in Wakanda knew that Bucky was the Winter Soldier. They knew that he was dangerous because of the brainwashing that Hydra had done. Steve knew. Shuri definitely knew—she was the one that had helped him deprogram!—T’Challa knew. Okoye knew. Nakia knew. Nat and Sam knew. Not one of them felt it was prudent to let you know. And this…it explains so much of Bucky’s behavior towards you.
You consider the two times that he’d hurt you, really hurt you, not with words but physically. He’d been so sorrowful afterwards, the pain in his eyes so clear and regretful. And then when you would find yourself getting close to him, he’d insult you or push you away somehow.
Is this why? Is this what made him hesitate? Did he deliberately keep you at a distance to ensure that you would always be safe? Did he really care about you, feel something for you?
You quickly run through those soft moments in your head again, but you linger on one you haven’t thought about in weeks. That day in the training center just after he’d helped you out of your ice bath and wrapped you in a towel, the look in his eyes as he’d laughed at your shivering and the slow way that his laugh and smile transitioned into anger sealed your theory. In your mind at least, this was the answer to Bucky’s prickly attitude. This is why he tried so hard to make you hate him.
You make this realization in the second that it takes Vision to answer your questions.
“It wasn’t my place.” He says. “It was so clear that he was trying his best not to-”
You push your chair back hard, glaring at Vision as he tries to justify his secrecy. With nothing more to say to him you turn and move towards the elevator down the hall, Allen close at your heels.
“Y/N?”
“I just want to train, okay?” As the elevator descends your heart aches, and in the presence of your boyfriend—you shut your eyes, unable to believe how effective Bucky’s tactics were—you strive to keep yourself from crying.
Allen pulls you into the circle of his arms and you let him, resting your cheek against his chest with a sigh as he rubs your back to comfort you. “Okay.”
You pass the day in a haze. Bucky is all you can think about. No matter how much you try and focus on your training, on your lunch, on the way Allen watches you and how he must see you being distracted, on anything but Bucky, you can’t seem to drive him from your thoughts. He fills your mind. Your heart in constant pain. Did Bucky really think that a trouble past would keep you from loving him?
“Babe? Babe? Y/N!” You look at Allen, startled into noticing the puddle around your glass.
He gets to his feet and moves around the small restaurant table to lift your glass of wine out of the way and begins mopping up the spill as you place the bottle back onto the table. “I’m…I’m sorry.”
You look around at the other patrons in the small Italian restaurant and give them an apologetic look. You look up at Allen and watch him finish cleaning with a furrowed brow.
Instead of moving back to his seat he squats down beside you, one hand on the back of your chair, the other on your knee. “You’ve been out of it all day. Are you not feeling well? We can go down to the med bay. Have them check you out?”
He reaches out to touch your forehead, but you flinch back, reminded of the same gesture Bucky offered not long before you left Wakanda.
Allen drops his hand, a look of concern overtaking his ridiculously handsome features. You feel guilty for making him worry. He really is a nice guy. He’s got two younger sisters who he sends to college using almost all of his income to do so. His parents are divorced and with the estrangement that came from that he practically raised them himself. You’re not sure why this thought fills your head suddenly. Perhaps you’re just so sorry for distressing him.
Allen licks his lips, looks down at your stomach, then back up at your face, deep worry carving his face. “Is…is it me? Do you regret us? I know that you didn’t want to go out with me…and if this is moving too fast I can back off, Y/N. If you need space…?”
But space is the last thing you need. “No, Allen, it isn’t…I’m sorry.”
Until this moment you hadn’t realized how much you had genuinely begun to care for this persistent man.
“Don’t be sorry.” Allen insists, reaching down to rest his hand on your hip. “Just tell me what I can do to help.”
You think, trying hard to be consumed by his bright green eyes. “Can we just go back home? I just need some sleep.”
“Of course.” Allen nods enthusiastically. Glad that you’ve given him a task he can do.
He gets back to his feet and helps you out of your seat before rushing over to the front desk to pay for the wine you’d both drank. You hadn’t even ordered yet. Guilt washes over you again.
You watch Allen walk back to you in his blue button up and fitted black trousers. He offers you his arm and you take it, letting him lead you out and back home.
As always, Allen walks you to your room, careful not to attract Tony’s attention. One time he’d caught him and made a big deal about a surprise ‘no sex’ rule that hadn’t existed until that moment.
You open the door to your room and linger there, facing your room, unsure of what to say to him to explain the craziness of your behavior today.
Allen’s hands, however find their way around your waist and he pulls you back against him. “You will tell me if I ever do anything wrong, won’t you? I don’t want to push you, Y/N.”
You shut your eyes, hating yourself for lingering on Bucky. You also hadn’t expected to find someone this perfect so quickly. Maybe too perfect? Slowly you turn around so that you can look up into his chiseled face.
“Sometimes I just-”
“It’s your ex, right?” Allen asks perceptively.
“He-he wasn’t exactly my ex. We were never together.”
“Then I’m already several steps ahead?” He asks, happy by that fact. “I’m not a dummy, Y/N. I saw the way you reacted when they mentioned that Sergeant Barnes guy. He was in Wakanda too?”
You hate the way hearing Bucky’s name on someone else’s lips makes you excited and hurt at the same time. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry you had to find out about the whole Winter Soldier thing that way. We learned about him our second year of training. His history is…not pretty. He’s a bad guy, Y/N.” Allen’s word send sparks of anger through you. “He killed a lot of people.”
The Bucky you know is not a bad guy. The Bucky you know is imperfect sure, but he’s not a bad person. He’s Captain America’s best friend. He could never be that if he was a bad man.
“I’m sorry. I’m just…jealous. I’ve never seen you so distracted.” Allen adds as he notices the pain in your face and reaches up to gently cup the sides. “Does this change things between us? Do you want me to back off until-”
“No.” You insist. You reach up, placing your hands over his and shake your head. “This changes nothing between us.”
With Bucky’s history revealed, you feel a lot of pain. You hurt because you finally understand that he pushed you away out of fear of hurting you. He didn’t trust himself to be with you and not injure you. What his revealed history doesn’t change is the fact that he also didn’t give you a choice. He made up his mind all on his own. You would have given anything to be there for him, to show him that his past doesn’t dictate his present, but he didn’t give you that option. He took it from you and gave you only one.
Allen watches your face, carefully gauging your sincerity before deciding that it’s genuine. He smiles a small and unsure smile before he leans down and kisses you softly. This isn’t your first kiss but it’s the first one that really matters. After a split-second that you hope he doesn’t notice you kiss him back.
He wishes you goodnight and you retreat to your room where you nestle yourself under the covers.
The weight of the day crashing down on you, you slowly begin to drift to sleep from pure emotional exhaustion. Just as your eyes begin to close a thought suddenly occurs to you. You’ve always had the opportunity to find out about Bucky!
Your eyes shoot open and you spring from your bed. You race down the hall and ride the elevator down to the second level basement. With your keycard in hand, you move into the archive and activate the panel on your desk. You type Bucky’s name, his full name, James Buchanan Barnes and wait as the system searches the millions upon millions of files.
You shiver, having run down in your heather gray pajama shorts and shirt. You should have gotten dressed. As the scan finishes, it returns a total of zero files.
“What?” You ask in disbelief.
You type a new name, Bucky Barnes. Zero results. James Barnes. Zero results. Sergeant Barnes. Nothing. The Winter Soldier. Also, nothing.
“What the fuck?” You ask, sitting yourself down in your rolling chair. There has to be some sort of record of him. This place has all the records. Even records that don’t technically exist, according to some people.
You twirl in your chair, about to rise and go back to your room when your eyes drift to the back of the large server room where you remember seeing old, black filing cabinets. It would make sense for Bucky to be in old paper files instead of digitized ones. He’s older, like Steve, a man out of time. Tony also seems to hate him so maybe he keeps them under lock and key?
You make your way to the filing cabinets and find them locked, just as you suspected. You look for the cabinet labeled ‘B’. You hurry to the shelf against the back wall where all the tools for repairing the servers are kept. You rifle through the various metallic instruments before you find a long screwdriver.
The filing cabinets are so old that you’re able to shove the flat head between the metal of the lock and the metal of the cabinet. You push back, prying the lock from its spot. It might be old but it’s still strong and refuses to give.
With a growl you take a step back, the screwdriver stuck, standing tall. You aim carefully and kick it hard. That does it. The lock flies off of the cabinet and clatters loudly on the floor as the cabinet marked ‘B’ slides open an inch. You hurry to it and quickly rifle through the various files. Some of them covered in dust. Others are so old the folders they rest in are soft and easy to tear. You’re very careful as you sift through them. Finally, you spot it. You reach in and carefully lift the thick brown folder out and move back to your workstation.
You notice that the text on the front is not in English but Russian. You can’t read Russian! You open the folder as soon as you reach your desk and the first page is a very old S.H.I.E.L.D report on aged yellow paper. The top right states Bucky’s date of birth—woah, 1922?—along with his status as far as they were concerned when the file was originally made, he was M.I.A. and his social security number is underneath that.
There’s a picture of him back when he was not the Bucky Barnes you know and love. He looks almost the same age, only he’s got his beard now and his hair is much longer. He looks good with short hair. You gently touch the photo, your fingers softly caressing the curve of his chin as you look at his eyes. Even in black and white you can see that the biggest difference between young Bucky and the Bucky now is the light in his eyes. He looks hopeful though his expression is as stern as ever.
There’s more information on the left side, his height, weight, place of residence, more physical descriptions as well as his military history. Howling Commandos? You set this page aside, tearing your eyes away from his picture. You hadn’t realized how much you missed looking at him.
You flip through the file and see document upon document in Russian text that you cannot read. Finally, you reach some photos and are shocked by the images you see. Close up shots of a severed arm, another photo beside it with a metal arm now fit into the cavity. Your stomach turns cold, making you feel sick as you realize that this is Bucky’s arm socket before and after. There are brain scans that you don’t know how to read and sheets of data with numbers that you don’t understand.
You flip through a few more pages, scared of what you’ll find.
You come across another page where your eye is automatically drawn to a small photo on the bottom right where Bucky, looking handsome in his old military uniform, his hat slightly slanted which you’re sure was probably against regulation back then, smirks up at you. He looks so good. You don’t fight the smile that curves your lips.
Your eyes finally move up to the rest of the page and the momentary happiness you feel seeing Bucky in uniform is wiped as you realize that this small picture is in direct contrast to the grey full page image of Bucky frozen in what looks like a metal container. He looks dead. It crushes your heart and you reach up to massage the spot.
Unable to take anymore of these pictures you shut the file but realize that if you’re going to search for Bucky in Tony’s archives, the files you’re looking for might be in Russian.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Can you please search the archive for the Winter Soldier, but in Russian?” You ask, hesitant. You’d already found enough to know that Bucky’s past was a lot darker than you anticipated. How much pain must he have gone through for that arm?
“Of course. Searching now. Here are all the files associated with the Winter Soldier.” The female accented voice fades leaving you staring at a list about sixty documents long and over twenty videos.
Because the documents will be in Russian you turn instead to the videos.
You stare at them for what feels like ages as you war with yourself. You already know that his past wasn’t easy. What good will this do? What purpose will prying into his past serve? You’re with Allen and that’s where your focus should be. And yet, your hand still moves forward and with great trepidation, you select the file. It expands into a large window at the center of your desk panel. You push yourself over in your rolling chair as a security video begins to play.
You see Bucky, large and imposing, sitting back in chair.
He’s in a room with soldiers in uniforms that look oddly familiar. This has to have been only a couple of years ago. The camera angle, from a corner of the room and the array of security deposit boxes behind him tells you that he’s in the vault of a bank. At first Bucky just sits there in his large black chair with strange arms behind the seat that protrude up towards the ceiling. Beside him to his right is an IV stand with fluids, and there are several monitors to his left and right showing brain scans and other unreadable information. He’s also surrounded by soldiers holding guns as a man in a lab coat fixes a tear in his metal arm.
As the man works, something passes through Bucky’s eyes, something like the darkness that you saw in the training room when he’d stabbed you. Suddenly he lashes out, striking the man in the chest which sends him flying across the room. A second man rushes to check on the lab coat while the soldiers surrounding Bucky turn their guns on him as he sits breathing heavily, chest heaving, a crazed look in his eyes as if he’s not seeing the room but seeing something else. The lab coat and his assistant leave the room.
Only the soldiers are left now, guns raised. You can see the fear in their stances. Bucky relaxes, sitting upright but slumped as he stares off into the distance, not seeing the room. One of the soldiers looks towards the right side of the screen where a man in a suit suddenly appears, trailed by another soldier and two other men. You’re not sure if they’re the same ones as before. The suit waves the soldiers down and they lower their guns.
He stops a few feet from Bucky. “Mission report.” He orders.
You quickly reach for the volume control and pick it up so that you can hear the audio more clearly.
“Mission report, now.” The suit repeats. His voice sounds familiar.
When Bucky continues to stare into the distance, seeing nothing, unresponsive, the suit moves forward. He stops in front of Bucky leaning down with his hands on his knees. Suddenly he swings his arm, backhanding Bucky across the face. The slap is loud, and you gasp in surprise.
Bucky slowly turns his head looking confused as he finally looks at the suit and speaks. “There was a man on the bridge.”
Not only does he sound confused but he’s lost. It’s in his eyes.
“Who was he?” He asks.
The suit continues to lean forward. “You met him earlier this week on another assignment.”
Bucky looks more confused, his steel blue eyes shining. And he seems to realize something. He looks off towards the right, his eyes shifting as he makes his realization.
“I knew him.” He admits.
The suit pulls the rolling stool the lab coat had been sitting in before and settles himself in front of Bucky.
Bucky finally looks at him. “Your work has been a gift to mankind.”
The man continues to speak but he’s leaning in so close to Bucky now that you can’t make out what he’s saying. Bucky’s expression darkens as he listens. Something the man says raises a fear in Bucky’s eyes. An expression you never thought you’d see reflected in his face.
Bucky looks at the suit finally, confusion back in place. “But I knew him.”
The suit sighs then rises as Bucky struggles with his fear again.
“Prep him.” The suit says.
“He’s been out of cryofreeze too long.” One of the other men says. The one with the bowtie.
“Then wipe him and start over.”
The bowtie and the other man move forward and push Bucky back against the chair. A look of defeat transforms his face, another look you never thought you’d see on him which then shifts into anger as one of the men holds a mouth guard out for him. Bucky opens his mouth and the man puts it in. This was a routine. This was what the Bucky in the video knows. He’s done this before. This realization fills you with horror.
You gasp as the sharp sound of hydraulics fill the room in the video, arm restraints shut around him to hold him in place. As you watch, your breathing begins to grow heavy as fear grips your heart. Your stomach spins uncomfortably as you dread what you can only guess comes next. Bucky’s fear mounts as the long metal arms that protrude from the chair swing down. The arms end in two curved plates sparking with electricity and they form themselves perfectly around his head.
Bucky’s terrified breathing drives daggers through your heart.
Suddenly he’s screaming.
“No!” You shout, not meaning to but you can’t contain yourself. “No! No!”
The suit turns and leaves, taking his soldier with him as Bucky convulses and continues to scream against the electricity surging through his body.
The video suddenly shuts off and you’re shaking. You look at the list of videos. So many videos.
You push another and watch as Bucky goes through the same process only it looks like years earlier. You shut your eyes as his screams are renewed and let the tears spill from your eyes as his screams of pain cut through you like sharp shattered glass.
You push another video and it’s the same, years earlier. You sob, unable to control the way your chest heaves as the sounds of his screams continue on and on. Video after video.
When the videos of his torture are over you watch as Bucky kills a man and a woman while he’s clearly in Winter Soldier mode.
You continue to sob, your heart ripping as he beats the man to a pulp and then strangles the woman where she sits. As he shoots out the camera you let your head fall into your hands, burying your grief at what Bucky has gone through. You understand his fear more clearly than ever now. The fear that he might snap and hurt you. Decades of conditioning and torture were your enemy, not Bucky’s justified hesitance. He only wanted to keep you safe and you have been hating him for it all day.
“So, this was the other guy?” A voice interrupts your sorrow and you look up, wiping at your eyes because you’ve been caught looking at Bucky’s files by the one person that was never supposed to know about him. “This was the guy you were holding on to? This murderer?”
Tony’s voice is hard and unforgiving. He moves towards you and plays the video of the couple again.
“Every time I watch this, I hate him more. He didn’t have to kill my mom.”
Your heart drops at Tony’s reveal. “Those are-”
“My parents. Yeah. And he killed them.” He plays the video again.
“He-” You hesitate because you know the anguish of losing your parents and it renews your sobs. How can you ask Tony to forgive Bucky for something you understand the pain of? You could never forgive the people who took your parents away from you.
“What? Was just following orders?” Tony spits.
You try and calm yourself, get control of your crying so that you can take a deep breath and wipe at the water on your cheeks.
“He wasn’t in control.” You argue.
Tony plays the video again and stares at the display. Tears stream down your eyes as you watch him relive their deaths over and over. You understand his anger, his hatred. You know it. Intimately.
“Hydra was controlling him he didn’t know what he was doing.”
Tony fixes you with an angry gaze as he leans forward against the counter. “He knew.”
“But he had no control.” You reason.
Tony looks down at his hands as the video ends. “You’re just like Rogers. What is it about this guy that blinds you two? Hm? You left him for a reason. What did he do? Did he do that?” He points at your scarred hand and you clutch it to your chest, hating him for reminding you that Bucky has hurt you even if these most recent wounds were not his fault.
“Fuck you.” You growl.
“You’re an idiot.” He concludes. “As it is, I can’t trust you anymore.”
You look down at his feet, lip quivering as you lose him as an ally. Tony has been so supportive, so kind and welcoming and even though you’re losing him, you don’t regret being able to understand Bucky more deeply.
“Go head, then.” You look back up at his face, squaring your jaw as you offer him his out. “Send me away. Kick me out. Send me back to Wakanda.”
“Back to Wakanda?” Tony scoffs, shutting the panel off and moving towards you. “So, you can run back to Barnes? No. I gave Rogers my word by taking you in and you’re going to stay right here where I can keep my eye on you. Away from that psychopath.”
You don’t mean to do it but the reaction to him insulting Bucky is instant. Your hand comes up and you punch him, right in the jaw, with a signature Bucky right hook. Tony staggers to his right, falling against the desk then turns enraged eyes on you.
“Get out of my archive.” He mutters dangerously.
You take a step back, sorry for punching him, but too proud to say it aloud.
“Get out!” He shouts. You turn and run, not stopping until you’re in your room with your back against the door.
You’re overcome with sobs again as you relive the last hour in your head. The agony you feel in your chest is not for your romantic loss of Bucky but for the pain he must have endured. The agony is for the suffering he’s gone through and the persecution he faces as the once fist of Hydra. People like Tony who hate him for what he is and what he did without acknowledging that Bucky, like the many people who’s lives he took, is also a victim.
Because you need to feel him, you need to have him near, you cross the room to your dresser, pull open your drawer, and scoop out Bucky’s jean jacket. His smell hits you hard and slowly you lower yourself to the floor as you clutch the jacket tightly in your arms, wishing it was Bucky so that you could show him that when you see him you don’t see a monster. That more than ever if he asked you to love him, you would because you are not your pasts. And if anyone deserves a chance at redemption, it’s James Buchanan Barnes.
Masterpost (Will link later when I have created more posts and have need of it)
A/N: So of course, my browser crashes and I lose my original A/N. In short, I’ve spent some time studying Bucky and reading up on his history in the mcu. Hopefully I can do the character justice and remain loyal to who he is as an established character. As promised way back when I started my Thor x Reader fic, this will be an enemies to lovers fic. I don’t know how long I’ll make it because I don’t know how much story there is to tell. Anywho, I hope you like it and as always if you’d like to reblog it is much appreciated! xoxo
Also, if you would like to be removed from the tag list for this story, please shoot me an ask and I will do so. I will be creating two tag lists, one for The End of the World and one for this one.
Wakanda; a place that never in your life did you imagine yourself visiting. Partially because you were so secluded back home with absolutely no money to travel but also because Wakanda, as far as you knew, was a third world country. And with your limited scope of exposure to said country through media and news outlets, Wakanda seemed to be a country of farmers. Agricultural excellence but not much more. Not exactly a tourist destination.
Once you arrived, however, you found that fact to be very different from reality. A nation of farmers it is not.
Wakanda is amazing! So much culture, astounding technology, and incredible people. It was all so breathtaking when you arrived. And then you met Sergeant Bucky Barnes.
Captain America, or Captain Rogers as you call him, introduced him to you as Bucky Barnes, his best friend. Sergeant to you, since you were to he his cadet in training.
At first Sergeant Barnes had been aloof when he met you. He'd given you a once-over and shook your hand. Then Captain Rogers, Cap for short, told him he’d be in charge of training you and Sergeant Barnes made a dramatic shift into displeased acceptance.
He spoke few words to you and over the next two weeks he spent most of his time training you in weapons. Handguns, assault rifles, sniper rifles, submachine guns, and explosives. The hand to hand stuff would come later, is what he promised.
In your third week, you finally began to shine. You were good with guns. More than good. Though the sniper rifle still had you stumped, everything else was cake. You and Sergeant Barnes had found a, not necessarily comfortable rhythm, but one that worked for the two of you. Still, acclimating to be a soldier when all you'd ever been was a civilian was difficult.
And boy does it irritate Sergeant Barnes. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t like you which is fine as your eyes are set on a specific Captain who happens to be a lot nicer and saved your life. The blue eyes, blonde hair, and insane physique don’t hurt either.
Not that Sergeant Barnes is a troll. He’s muscular too. Hard, like steel. His hair is dark and long which honestly isn’t a look you’re into, but it looks soft. His eyes are a beautiful ice blue, but his pupils seem to be dilated most of the time, so it gives him a dark eyes vibe. His lips are larger than most other men's. Full and pink. But you can’t really tell how handsome he is despite the pleasing individual parts. He’s always scowling.
“Come on, speed it up, before someone else claims the room.” Sergeant Barnes leads you along long winding hallways turning so frequently you’re sure you won't be able to find your way out.
He is eager to get your drills done.
You aren’t sure if it’s because he wants you to train or if he just wants you out of his hair, which as you walk, he pulls up out of his face. He ties it into a half bun, leaving the rest to fall around his neck.
“Does your hair ever get caught in your arm?” You probe, rudely.
“What?” He demands, clearly irked by your question. “When we get there, stand at the center of the room.”
“Why?”
He looks back at you again, like he can’t believe you’re asking.
“Because that's where I want you.”
“Is the simulation difficult?” You wonder. You know that your questions are probably starting to irritate him, but you can’t help it. You’re nervous.
“I can make it difficult. And use your handgun. You won’t he needing your ACR.”
“But I like the ACR.” You protest.
“You’re not going to need it. Just use the handgun.” He says sternly. An order.
And yet, you can’t stop yourself. “Why?”
Sergeant Barnes stops walking and you barely skid to a stop and still bump into him.
He grabs your shoulders and pushes you away from him, glaring at you in annoyance. “Just do as I say, Cadet.”
He reminds you with that one word that you’re a soldier now and you need to follow orders. Unwilling to speak again and upset him even more you nod.
“What was that?” He demands.
“I was acknowledging your order.” You explain, confused.
“Then what do you say?”
You frown. You didn’t know he had such a large ego. “Yes, sir, Sergeant.”
He gives you a long look then leads you down the hall and into the simulation room.
Luckily, it's empty.
You stop right inside the door as Sergeant Barnes moves towards the control console and drops his bag behind it.
Suddenly he snaps his fingers and points at the center of the room without looking up at you.
You jump, remembering his instructions and hurry to the spot indicated. He joins you a few seconds later and lowers himself into a crouch.
You copy him and wait.
The simulation shimmers as it loads, and you and Sergeant Barnes are suddenly plunged into the gritty nightscape of New York.
It's all so real you stare in awe at the passing taxis and the projections of people walking on the sidewalk. One guy even starts arguing with another and a simulated fight begins.
You look all the way around you and find that you and Sergeant Barnes are each crouched behind a large green dumpster, only he’s directly across from you on the opposite side. You wrinkle your nose as the smell of the garbage assaults you. The way the alley asphalt feels beneath your fingers, the smell of the trash, the distant horns, the muffled music, the sound of people shouting and talking, everything about this simulation has been crafted for complete immersion.
“Okay, so we're gonna make our way towards that-Hey. Hey, Cadet! You listening?” Barnes snaps his fingers until you turn away from the city street and look back at him.
“Yes. Sorry.”
“Focus. Alright?” He snaps, frustrated with you but that’s nothing new.
“Yes…sir.” You add as the afterthought. He doesn’t seem to care because he points at you. He then shifts his point down deeper into the dark backstreet and you follow his gesture to a door halfway down the wall on your side. It’s a simple steel door. Nothing special about it.
“We make our way in, I’ll go first, you follow close behind. You draw your weapon and watch my back. Got it? Do not engage unless I tell you to.”
“Yes, sir.”
Behind you a car backfires and you jump. Sergeant Barnes sighs heavily, fed up with you probably. He pushes himself up out of his full crouch and shifts into a half-crouch, shoulders pulled down, head also down but eyes up. His feet move quickly along the black asphalt and he’s so silent. No matter how many times you’ve seen him move like this, it still shocks you. He’s not as big as the Captain but he’s still large. Can men that large move like that?
You follow his lead and try and match his posture and gait. You trip but quickly regain balance and manage to do it without making a lot of noise. This alone is reason for you to be proud of yourself but Sergeant Barnes expects more from you.
He flattens himself against the wall and holds up three fingers on his normal hand and slowly counts down.
He places his metal hand on the handle.
Three…
Two...
One…
With a twist he breaks the handle and pushes the door open. You follow close behind him. He suddenly stops, pressing himself up against the wall just inside the door. You bump into him and he quickly sweeps his arm back in front of you, pushing you flat against the wall as well. He glares at you quickly, presses his metal index finger to his lips, and gestures at the wall beside him. You lean over, embarrassed by your muck up, and see that he’s showing you a doorway.
You look down at his arm, still held out across your chest, holding you flush with the wall. Why does this simple gesture make you nervous?
He looks down at your hands and stands up straight, dropping his arm, his face full of disbelief at what he sees. He sighs heavily again and when he talks his voice is so quiet but dripping with venom. “Where is your gun?”
Gun? Gun! You quickly fumble to unholster the handgun and hold it ready. You check the safety, to make sure it’s off—it is—and hold it pointed down at an angle towards the ground, your fingers not on the trigger but ready to move into position should the need arise, just as he’d taught you.
“You watch my back.” He reiterates, making his voice hard so you know that he means it.
You nod.
His own gun already drawn, he slips into the doorway and quickly fires two bullets. You hear the pop, pop. And then you move into the room after him. You turn to your left first, looking in the corners of the room in case someone might be hiding behind any of the boxes or random furniture in the room. As you are about to go double-check behind a particularly large box shoved into the corner you hear a sudden shift behind you and you quickly turn to look towards the doorway the two of you had just entered through.
A man dressed in black wearing a ski mask rounds the corner and you shoot him. You might be a klutz from time to time but if there’s one thing you have, it’s excellent aim.
Your bullets get him straight in the chest and the projection dissolves. You’re so elated, celebrating silently that you don’t notice the man that springs out from behind the box you’d been about to check. He fires a single shot at you. You feel the electric current shock you in the center of your back where his bullet hit your spine, then he turns his gun on Sergeant Barnes who wheels around, his gun raised, but then slowly stands up straight when two more bullets light up his chest.
He stares at you, his face full of disappointment and irritation.
“What did I say?” He demands, his voice quiet and tight.
“You said to watch your back.” You reply.
“No, before that. When we were preparing for today’s simulation, what did I say?”
You try and remember, and you realize your mistake. “Secure the room and duck for cover in case there are multiple shooters from different directions.”
“Do you not like to listen? Do you get some sort of pleasure from just ignoring everything I tell you?” He’s so frustrated that his voice is beginning to rise in volume. “You just got yourself and your partner killed. God I don’t…What the hell are you even doing here, Y/N?”
You look down at his feet, unable to make eye contact.
“I don’t know why you came here…why am I doing this?” He demands of himself. He reaches up and pulls his hair out of the small hair tie he’d used to keep it out of his face for the drill. He waves his hand over his head and the simulation begins to fall away leaving you and Sergeant Barnes standing in a large white room. “This is so stupid. You’re going to get not only yourself but someone else killed.”
As the real walls are exposed he stares over your shoulder towards the exit. He rips off his right-hand glove, snapping the material. The sound echoes around you, making you jump. You turn to look at whatever it is he’s looking at and spot Cap standing with his arms crossed over his chest. His beard is growing in. It’s just a stubble at the moment but he looks just as large and good as before. You try to hide the pleasure you get from seeing him, but you always fail. Of course, the pleasure you get from seeing your crush lasts only a second because you’re suddenly embarrassed that Cap had to have been watching and he saw your failure.
You turn back around, hands hiding your gun gently at your front, shoulders hunched.
Sergeant Barnes makes you flinch as he walks very close as he passes you. Not intentionally probably. The speed of his walk wafts his scent at you--men's soap and slight smell of peaches?
“I can’t do this anymore, Steve. I don’t want this…this person, to be my responsibility.” The way he says ‘person’ sounds a lot more like he means to say ‘nuissance’.
It makes you frown. You’re trying and all he sees are your mistakes.
“What the hell were you thinking, bringing her here? She can’t do this. She doesn’t listen. She’s easily distracted. She can’t take orders, Steve.”
“It’s only been a few weeks.” Cap reasons. You chance a sideways glance back at them and Cap is watching you. You see him observe your slumped stance. “Give her a chance. She’s trying.”
“Some people are not meant to be soldiers. Stick her in an office and give her something to read. She doesn’t belong in the field.” He’s talking about you as if you aren’t standing right there, hearing everything he’s saying about you.
It really is starting to irk you.
“She deserves a chance, Buck.” Cap says more sternly.
“Then give her to someone else. I’m done.”
“I didn’t take you for a quitter.”
“Well, the difference between you and me Steve has always been my ability to walk away and your inability to give up when you know you’ve lost.”
Their words are so loaded it makes the room feel heavy and uncomfortable to be in. Are you putting a rift between Captain America and his best friend?
You gasp as quietly as you possibly can so that they can’t hear you.
“Buck, you just finished your weapons training with her. Getting her skills up is going to take some time. She wants to fight for the people she lost. Are you going to deny her that?”
Silence.
“Get Natasha to do it. Or Sam.” Sergeant Barnes offers desperately.
“Sam and Nat or on assignment. This isn’t a request Buck. Either you train her or I put you out in the field. You don’t have any excuses anymore.” Cap's voice has shifted into stern authority as he gives Sergeant Barnes his two options.
You hear Sergeant Barnes growl under his breath and when he speaks his voice is directed at you.
“Meet me in the west field tomorrow at 0600, Cadet.”
You turn and nod, making your jaw tight.
Sergeant Barnes stares at you, looking you up and down before his eyes land on the gun in your hands. You’re holding it loosely at your front like you would a purse.
Three weeks ago, that’s exactly what it would have been.
Sergeant Barnes clenches his jaw, his eyes hard with annoyance as he looks away from you to Cap and gives him a blatant look of incredulity.
Without another word Sergeant Barnes walks out of the white room leaving you and Cap alone.
Cap watches him leave before he turns his blue eyed gaze upon you. He also looks down at your hands and slowly approaches you.
Your heart skips a beat as he stops a mere foot away from you then nervous flutters engulf the pit of your stomach as he reaches down towards your hands.
Your excitement is for naught however because he simply takes the gun from your hands and switches the safety on.
“Guns, even fake ones, are dangerous. Never hold one like this again. Okay?” Despite the chastising, his voice is soft and gentle.
You nod your head.
He steps closer and slowly puts the gun back in the holster at your hip.
“I know this has been tough. I know losing your parents like that-" He stops talking because he can see the tears in your eyes. Despite the water, your face is hard.
You’re trying so hard to resist feeling this. You don’t want to be weak. You don’t want to cry anymore. You don’t want to be fragile in front of Captain America. You want to show him that you're strong. You deserve to be here.
“I’ll do better.” You promise.
“Don’t try so hard.” He tells you softly. “Don’t fight your grief, Y/N or you’ll be stuck reliving it. If you want to cry then cry.”
His kind words, the soft tone in which he says them topples any resistance you have. You look down at his wide chest and since he’s already so close, you shut your eyes and lean your forehead against it as your tears spill over.
After a second he reaches up and wraps his left hand around the back of your head while his right rubs your left bicep as he tries to comfort you.
“You’re gonna be okay, Y/N. Just maybe try not to irritate Bucky so much?”
You pull back at his words and look up at his face, confused while he too looks down at your face with a grimace.
Both of you know that irritated Bucky is his natural state when you’re around and there isn’t anything that is going to change that.
Before you can reply, Cap's pocket begins to ring. He drops his hands from around you and he pulls out a simple flip phone. He looks at the number then up at your face.
“I gotta take this. One day at a time, Y/N.” He's already walking away from you. He flips the phone open and presses it to his ear. “Hey Sharon. I can talk. What are you doing?”
He’s smiling as he leaves the room, leaving you in a state of heartbroken disappointment. There's nothing worse than knowing your crush has a girlfriend.
The door suddenly opens again and you half expect it to be Cap but when it isn’t, and Sergeant Barnes walks in, you feel your heart sink.
He slows his walk as he spots you, still standing in the same spot when he'd left.
“You're still in here?” He asks.
You really wanna sass him, so you do. “Duh.”
He frowns at your response. “Is that any way to talk to your commanding officer?”
He moves towards the control center of the room and grabs his black bag from under the desk.
“I don’t know. Am I supposed to respect someone who insults me to other people while I’m in the same room?” You move towards the door, ready to be away from Sergeant Barnes and his bad attitude.
He's also headed towards the door which means the two of you meet beside it. He’s frowning as he reaches it.
He looks at you, really looks at you as you move to push the door open.
“Were you crying?” He suddenly asks. His voice isn’t hard or irritated. Curious a little.
You’re so embarrassed at being caught however that you don’t notice the shift in his tone.
You take your hand off the door and reach up to wipe your cheeks and eyes.
“What do you care?” You grumble.
“Because of me?” He demands, upset. Probably with you for being so weak and childish. If he really thinks you’re crying because he gave you a hard time, he must seriously think you’re a child.
“No, not because of you. Because of my parents.” You push the door open and begin to head out but a metal hand closes around your wrist, keeping you from leaving.
“You said they died, right?” He asks.
You really don’t feel like talking anymore. Especially not about your parents and definitely not to Sergeant Barnes.
“Yeah. Now if you don't mind,” You yank your wrist from his grip. “I’ve had enough of your shitty attitude for one day.”
He lets you go, glaring at your words. “0600, twerp!”
A/N: So...I said I was going to take a break...and then I didn’t. Either way, this chapter is a tiny one. Next one will be longer, I promise. I hope you enjoy this one. xoxo And as always, if you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work!
Leaving Wakanda isn’t easy. You and Steve pack quickly, taking only what you need. You leave all of your fatigues, pull on a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt. Your white dress, dirty, torn and covered in blood you leave crumpled at the foot of your bed.
Several times you have to stop and catch your breath. You’re in pain both physically and emotionally. Leaving all of your friends behind without so much as a goodbye makes you feel guilty.
Aman and Joshua might understand but you know they'll be hurt. You won’t be able to see Nat again and Sam was supposed to show you how to use his wing suit which, according to Steve, was kind of a big deal. Shuri was so nice but if there was one woman who you know will understand, it's Shuri.
“Pull it together, Y/N.” Steve mutters in hushed tones. The two of you are packing in the dark and you take a moment to lean against your desk as you pull the only photo of your parents into your old duffel bag.
“I’m fine.” You assure him, angry because he was using every opportunity of exposed weakness on your part to try and convince you to stay.
“You don’t have to do this, you know? You can still change your mind.” He moves towards you, hope flooding his tone.
It makes you so angry that your hands begin to shake as you pull the small bag closed.
“God dammit, Steve, why are you making this so hard for me?” You turn shining eyes on him, brimming with tears that you won’t allow to fall. “I have to do this for myself. Can’t you just be on my side? Just this once? I don’t have a dad to tell me that Bucky is scum for hurting me or a mom to comfort me.”
You reach up and rub at your chest where your heart breaks as it yearns for the comfort of your parents. It's this and not Bucky that finally makes you cry.
“I just don’t want to feel like this anymore, get it? So can't you just let me deal with this in a way that works for me? Please?” You stare at him, tears flowing down your cheeks.
It had been just under three months ago that you lost your parents, your only family.
Because he doesn’t answer you pat your chest and repeat your question, your voice breaking as your chin quivers when you speak.
“Please?”
“Okay.” Steve moves towards you, intending to comfort you but you take a step back and hold up a hand to stop his advance. You don’t want a hug. You wanna be as far away from Wakanda as possible. “I’ll go check to see if the coast is clear. Vision is meeting us on my building roof after dropping off Wanda. From there he'll take you to the Avengers compound.”
You nod, sniffling quietly and wiping your nose on the back of your hand.
Steve sighs but he doesn’t try and comfort you again. “Stay out of sight.”
You can hear how much he hates doing this. This sneaking around to escape into the night, hiding from Bucky and the problems that come with him. He hustles out the door and you lean against it, resting your head against the strong wood.
But Steve doesn’t know how much you wanna stay. He doesn’t know how much that kiss broke you. Even if Bucky hadn’t meant for it to happen, he did nothing to stop it. He had every opportunity to tell Karabo that he didn’t like her in that way and he did nothing, effectively giving her permission to try. And why wouldn’t she? For that you couldn’t blame her.
Only idiots like you who realize too late exactly how you feel take forever to make their feelings known.
You shut your eyes, hating Karabo and Bucky and yourself. You slam your head against the door gently, frustrated with the way your mind urges you to go look for Bucky and for the strong way your heart yearns to obey.
Perhaps it's cowardly but maybe with some distance you might find a way to be happy again?
“Steve?” Bucky's voice , muffled but his voice all the same, struggles to penetrate the thick adobe walls of your hut.
You look in the direction that his voice came from, staring straight into the solid door, and place your hand gently on the wooden surface. You feel the smooth grains of wood underneath your fingers as you gently stroke your fingers across it. Your heart battling with your head to give in and go to him.
“Buck, hey.” Steve sounds awkward at first, like he's not sure what to say.
“What are you doing here?” Bucky demands, surprised and desperately curious.
Say something, Steve! Anything.
“She's not here.” He says finally, sounding more like himself.
You bite your bottom lip and shut your eyes again with relief, your forehead still pressed against the door.
“What?” Bucky’s voice is full of disappointed shock.
“I was actually coming to find you. I uh…I don't know how to tell you this Buck, Y/N she uh…she's…”
“No, she's not." Bucky says, cutting him off as anger, disbelief, and panic all mix into a threatening cocktail of a tone. “She's not…”
You open your eyes and shake your head in exasperation. Say something Steve! He's making it sound like you're dead. You hadn’t actually meant it when you told him to tell Bucky you were dead for all you cared.
“No! Jeez, Buck, no. She's fine. A little banged up but she's actually really great. She fought off one of the Hydra agents by herself, turns out he's kinda their Lieutenant. She caught us a big fish.”
You hear Bucky sigh with relief. “Damn it, Steve, don’t do that to me. And whaddya mean? Banged up? How banged up is she?”
He cares if you live! You bite down on your lip harder, finding the pull to open that door stronger.
“Just a little banged up. A bit of a black eye. She’s okay, really.” Steve tries to assure his friend, sounding as if he’s trying to soothe him.
“Well, where is she?” Bucky demands.
“She was headed for the hangar. T’Challa was so impressed with her that he's sent her out on a mission to pursue the ones that got away. She went with a few of the GP and Nakia. If you hurry, you might still be able to catch her before they take off.”
“I fucked up, Steve, I don't know how to fix it.” Bucky admits, and you hear the pain in his voice. The urge to hug him intensifies but what he says isn’t wrong. You remind yourself of that as you listen.
“You’ll know what to say when you see her. Good luck, Buck.” You hear Steve slap Bucky's arm and then hear a soft and quiet hiss and a shift of fabric.
A moment later, your door opens. You pull away just in time.
Steve looks absolutely aghast, probably because of the huge lie he just had to tell.
“That was some quick thinking.”
He frowns and shakes his head, still disapproving.
You feel another surge of anger and move past him. “If it bothers you that much, stay here. I’ll meet Vision on my own.”
Steve grabs you by the elbow and pulls you to a stop before he pulls your hut door shut them shoves a jacket into your arms. “You’re going to need that in the air.”
He lets you go and moves past you, still frowning. “Come on, before someone else comes looking for you.”
On the way you see Steve talking to T'Challa on his comm bead. When he hangs up, he doesn't say anything. He just keeps walking.
When the two of you reach his building, he leads the way up to the roof. It's still empty. Vision isn’t here yet.
Steve pulls the coat he gave you from your hands and grabs your duffel bag, then drops it to the ground before pulling the coat onto your shoulders.
“It's gonna be a cold ride. T’Challa says he understand your need to go. He’ll try and keep up the ruse as long as he can with Bucky. Give him some time to cool off. I can’t promise that he’s not going to look for you.” He says it a little hopefully, like he wants Bucky to go after you and find you. He just doesn’t give up.
You don’t realize it until your arms are already in it that Steve has put Bucky's jean jacket on you. You panic, angry, and you move to rip it off but Steve grabs a hold of the front and with his unbreakable grip pulls it closed.
“I mean it. You're going to need it.” He chastises, and you hate him for forcing you to take this piece of Bucky with you.
“He's right. The night air will be cold and the flight we must make is long. Take the jacket.”
You turn to watch Vision slowly descend down onto the roof, his golden cape floating majestically in the wind.
“Hi, Vision.” You had only met this man…cyborg…program being—what the hell is he?—once, when he'd scared you here a while back.
“Hello again, Y/N. I wish I could say that you look well but you are injured.” He tilts his head slightly to one side as you reach up to touch your eye. You're also very careful with your bandaged hand. You'd needed stitches which luckily Steve knew how to do.
“Occupational hazard.” You reply and turn to look at Steve. “I should go.”
“Yeah.” He says, sadly and yet also angry.
“I guess, if you go on the run soon, this’ll be the last time I see you.”
Now you’re sad. Steve shakes his head and pulls you into a crushing embrace. You rest your head against his chest and wish that a hug was enough to soothe your aches.
“I’d tell you to stay out of trouble, but I don't think you can help it.” He squeezes you. “Keep your head down and listen to Tony. He's a good man. He'll take care of you. Oh, but maybe don’t mention Bucky to him?”
“Okay.” You whisper, slightly confused but then quickly pull away. You scoop your bag back up and move into Vision's waiting arms.
“Do not worry, Captain. I will take good care of her.”
“I’m holding you to that, Vision. I have a super soldier here that would kill me if anything were to happen to her.
“I understand.”
“Goodbye, Steve. I hope I see you again soon. And thank you, for everything. You’re a true friend.”
“Bye, little dove.”
Vision rises up in the air slowly and you watch Steve shrink beneath you until he's a small tiny speck in the distance below.
“Hold on, I’m going to go much faster now.” Vision warns.
He suddenly shoots forward, and you finally leave Wakanda behind you.
You cry. You’re not sure how long you cry but you do, and Vision doesn’t say anything to you. He lets you cry. You’re sad for so many reasons. But you're also tired.
And Steve was right, it was cold, but you're warm in Bucky's jacket and Vision's arms. So, you don’t mean to, but you drift off. The early morning with Nat, the stress from the club, the adrenaline from the attack. Everything piles on and you sleep to escape it.
Stunning blue-green eyes haunt your dreams. From some angles the eyes are bright blue, shining with happiness. Then they’re a deep steel blue as they stare at you with unrelenting intensity. They shift, suddenly black as they stare at you with annoyance and frustration. They suddenly dilate completely and become the cold black emptiness that attacked you in the training room.
You feel a sudden thud and you jerk awake. You struggle to shake off Bucky's biting gaze as you look around and try to focus on your new surroundings.
“I can walk.” You mumble sleepily.
Vision slowly removes his arm from behind your knees, lowering your feet to the ground. He carefully holds you steady with his other arm still around your shoulders. You push it away and he lets you stagger for a moment. You realize that you’re on a balcony that connects to a long wall of glass. A glass double door stands open and through it you can see a large dark room. Inside there are two long meeting tables like the ones they have in boardrooms. One table has red chairs and the other has steel black ones, both rolling. To the right there’s a small seating area.
“Come. I will show you to your room.” Vision moves into the atrium. You move after him and he gestures to your left. “There's a living room in there.”
He points to the right as you move around the small seating area you had first noticed. “That is the kitchen.”
The kitchen is mostly one long concrete slab island with red trim. The appliances are top of the line and there’s a small bowl full of fruit by the espresso machine.
He leads you down a hallway and points to a door on the left as you pass it. “That is Thor's room. But he's off world right now so we won’t be seeing him, probably for a while.”
You pass a steel double door to the right. “Elevator.”
You reach the end of the hallway and he points to the left. “That’s the room Colonel Rhodes uses when he decides to stay over.
As the two of you round the wall into the adjacent hallway you pass another balcony with a backless wooden bench. You follow Vision about halfway down the hallway where he finally stops.
He gestures with his hand towards the door. “The nicer bathroom. You'll like it.”
You stare at the door but then follow as Vision moves off again, without looking at the fancy toilet. You turn down another adjacent hallway and he doesn't stop until he reaches the last door on the right.
“This was Wanda's room. It will be yours as long as you are here with us.” He reaches for the handle and throws the door open.
You move inside and examine the nice sized bedroom. It's at least four times as large as your hut. Luxury, pure luxury. The room is decorated in dark neutrals. Dark beige, brown, an olive-green carpet beneath the bed with the puce comforter. There's a wooden dresser with a TV, currently off. Next to the bed two tables with lamps. There's a music stand nearby and a guitar, sitting abandoned on a guitar stand. Wanda must miss her room.
The room is not overly girly but is welcoming enough.
“Won't it be weird to have me here? In her old room?” You look back at Vision whose cape is gone now.
“Only if I forget that you’re not Wanda and come in through the wall.”
Is he making a joke?
He smiles, and you feel like you can relax a little.
“Rest. Tomorrow is a new day. And you can meet everyone at breakfast.” Vision moves to hand you your duffel bag which you hadn’t noticed he'd been carrying for you.
“Thanks.” You take your bag and Vision heads for the door. As he reaches it, you call out, afraid you'll lose your nerve. “Vision?”
“Yes?” He turns back around to look at you.
“Really, thank you.”
“We all deserve a fresh start. Good night.”
He leaves you alone and it is all consuming as you realize that you did this by choice. You left everyone behind. You’re alone.
You wrap your arms around yourself and shut your eyes. You take a deep breath and try to steady your nerves when you’re suddenly assaulted by the clean musk of Bucky's soap. You can smell the peaches and smooth earthy scent of that stupid Warka tree. All three scents mix into one unbearably pleasing scent.
With a strangled gasp you rip the jacket off of you, ignoring the way your back protests, the stitches pulling. You march over to the dresser and shove the jacket into one of the smaller drawers before you slam it closed and shut the painful memory of Bucky away with it.
A/N: Okay, so, this one is short. And I’ll explain why. The next one is probably going to be hella long. Do people still say hella? Anyway, I mean, that could change. The next one might very well be short as well because I honestly have things planned certain ways and then as I’m writing them it turns out that doing them another way might work better so I adjust. I’m so glad that you guys have stuck with me through this horrible slow burn monstrosity. So much angst and you’re still here. You’re all masochists and let’s face it, I’m sadistic and love to torture you. As always, if you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work. You da real mvp. Hope you like this one. xoxo
“It's been two months, Buck. How long are you going to make her wait?” Steve pushes his cell phone across the coffee table as Bucky leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His hands are held loosely, dangling between his legs as he considers Steve's offer.
“This is the last chance you'll have. Nat and Sam are already gone. I have to leave tonight.” It's gotten dangerous for the Secret Avengers. The time had finally come.
Steve, Nat, and Sam could no longer trespass on T'Challa's hospitality. Bucky swallows hard, looking up at his best friend. Once he's gone, he won’t have anyone left. This loneliness is what he deserves. He knows that he still has so much to atone for.
Hurting you the way he did, how could he possibly call you and ask you to come back? Would you even want to?
He looks down at the phone again and reaches for it. He holds it in his right hand, feeling the hard plastic, appreciating the weight of it. Such a small device and it means the difference between possibly getting you back or not.
Bucky flips the phone open and stares at the three programmed numbers. Sharon's name sits at the top.
“How does Sharon feel about losing you to a life on the run?”
Steve shakes his head, saddened by Bucky's question. “Well she ain't pleased. But she knows I have no choice. We said our goodbyes last night.”
Unable to contain himself, Bucky smirks at Steve. Steve’s lip curls up at the corner as he blushes and looks down at the floor knowing full well what Bucky's smirk means.
“I hope it was a nice goodbye.” He teases, but his smirk slowly falls as he repeats his own words in his head.
Any goodbye is better than no goodbye.
He looks at the next name. ‘Tony Stark’ and feels a strong sense of guilt as he stares at this name in particular.
He still means what he’d told Steve on their way to Siberia. He still isn’t sure that he was worth all the trouble he caused. He'd torn the Avengers apart. Sure, most people blamed the Accords, but they didn’t know that while Tony Stark had been trying to apprehend Steve for breaking them, Steve had been fighting to protect Bucky.
In the end, the Accords were just a distraction. The true war was fought between three people and over a grief so consuming that Bucky doesn’t expect to ever be forgiven for what he took from Tony.
He can still hear Tony's mother's voice as she called for her husband. He can still see and feel the sting of recognition as Howard Stark recognized Bucky from their youth just before he beat him to death.
“Buck?” Steve can see him wallowing.
He looks up and gives him a pained grimace.
“What if he's told her about me? What if she hates me? I killed his parents Steve, for Hydra. Somebody killed her parents for Hydra too. She must hate me now. There's no way she doesn't.” Bucky agonizes over the reality that you and Tony Stark are similar in at least this one very important way.
“So, call her and find out.” Steve urges him. “I know you love her. So, tell her. She’s the only one who doesn’t know.”
“What if she doesn’t want to hear it? She left for a reason.”
“She was hurt. Time heals wounds, Buck.”
“Not all of them.” Bucky retorts.
Steve considers his best friend, watching his internal struggle.
“I know you think you hid it well, but I watched you fall hard and fast. In all my years of watching you date dame after dame after dame after dame-"
“Alright,” Bucky says, cutting him off. “I get it, I’ve gone around with a good number of dames. Can we move on please? This isn’t how you tried to convince her to stay is it? Because I can see why it didn’t work.”
Steve smiles, then laughs lightly at Bucky's teasing. “My point is, she's different. And if you let her go without even attempting to fight for her, then you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. And I hate to break it to you pal, you and me? We're not exactly getting any older.”
Bucky finally looks at the last name on the phone, staring at Vision's name with his finger hovering over the soft green call button. If he presses it, he could speak with you. One call…one little question…that’s all it could take.
He swallows hard and presses the soft green button.
The phone, as old as it is, doesn't seem to recognize the pressed button and for a moment Bucky is both disappointed and grateful that fate seems to have intervened. But then the display changes and begins to count in seconds as the small phone vibrates with every ring.
Fear grips Bucky's heart as he presses the phone to his ear.
It rings and rings.
Bucky's breathing becomes shallow as he waits.
It rings and rings.
Perhaps Vision won't answer?
The ringing suddenly stops, and Bucky waits for Vision's smooth and accented greeting. What he gets instead is your voice, like the choir of angels, your even tone fills his ear and makes his heart swell.
“Hello? Steve?” You say.
Bucky sits frozen his face a mixture of relief and pain as he listens to you speak. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice and it’s like a balm for his wounded heart.
“Steve? Can you hear me?” You ask since he won’t speak. “Vis forgot his phone in the kitchen. Steve?”
“What's the matter?” Asks a male voice. It's so clear and loud that the person speaking would have to be very close to you for Bucky to hear him this clearly.
“Baby, can you go get Vis? He's probably down in Tony's den.” You speak with easy affection to this male voice.
Bucky narrows his eyes, fighting the stab of pain that suddenly clutches his chest, squeezing his heart until it can no longer possibly beat.
His worst fear is realized. You’ve moved on. You are with someone else now and though he doesn't know what the bastard looks like, just the sound of his voice, deep and resonant paints an intimidating picture. But it doesn’t matter what he looks like. Any other man's arms around you is blasphemy.
Instantly Bucky regrets letting you stay away this long. But if you're happy? Shouldn’t he leave you be?
Bucky looks up at Steve with his eyes full of despair. Steve shifts closer to him.
“What is it, Buck?” Steve asks.
Bucky’s stomach suddenly twists as Steve speaks, knowing that you'll hear the question and realize that it isn’t Steve on the phone but him. Shock replaces his pain as your side of the line goes silent.
Suddenly, you speak.
“Bucky?” You ask, your voice so hesitant, so unsure that the sound of it feels like needles on Bucky's heart. “Bucky is that you?”
Bucky holds the phone more tightly to his ear, relishing in the beauty that is your voice.
“Bucky?” You ask again, this time your voice breaks, emotion getting the best of you as you think about how close and yet how far away the two of you are in this moment. “Bucky, please say something."
Bucky opens his mouth, his whole body aching at the pain in your voice. But what can he say? He has so much to say and he doesn’t know where to begin. He has so much to make amends for that he doesn’t know what mistake he should start with. Should he start with Kara since she was what drove you away? Should he explain what happened to him? Should he explain why he pushed you away? Will you let him finish? This is not a conversation to have over the phone.
He wants to look at you. To be able to touch you. To hold you when you inevitably cry or try to get away.
So instead of saying something, he says nothing.
“Bucky…just tell me to come home and I’ll come home. I'll…” You sob, and Bucky looks down at the floor, crushing the phone to his ear so hard he might break it. The agony that rips through him at the sound of your sorrow is unbearable.
“I'll come home.” You finish.
Bucky struggles and finally, swallows, clearing his throat to speak when the male voice returns.
“Vision is on his way, he said he-Y/N?!” There's shock and worry as the male seems to get a look at you and Bucky can only wonder what pain he’s caused you now to elicit such a strong reaction.
“Y/N, what's the matter? Did something happen to Captain America?” Bucky can hear the hero worship in the guy's voice—surprise, surprise, a Captain America fan—but he can also hear the sincerity in this man’s worry for you.
“Babe, please tell me what's wrong so that I can make it better.” Bucky can hear you sob.
“Allen,” You say, slightly annoyed but still crying and he can almost picture you pushing the man away to give you some space.
Bucky can't listen anymore. He pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at the small screen. Less than five minutes. That’s how long he’s had you on the phone and you’re already in tears.
“Bucky?” Your voice asks one final time, searching for him. Then the phone hangs up. Bucky stares at the blinking screen before he slowly closes it and holds it out to Steve.
“What happened?” Steve asks, concern and suspense riddles his expression as he takes the phone back.
Bucky can’t speak. He sits back, staring at the phone in Steve's hand as he realizes that one more time he’s let you slip through his fingers.
With a frown, Steve gets to his feet, flips the phone open, and walks into his kitchen.
Bucky can see him talking on the phone but he’s not hearing anything but the sound of your sobbing, echoing in his ears.
“What the hell did I just do?” He asks himself.
You have a life with Tony. A new life. A good one it sounds like. A life with some guy named Allen who, despite the intense hatred that Bucky feels for him, seems to care about you very much. And how could he not? Anyone who meets you would instantly fall in love with you.
Bucky zones out, lost in a different kind of haze of his own making as he tries to comprehend what just happened. He fucked up again, that’s what happened.
Steve eventually moves back into the room, the phone held in his hand. He stops opposite Bucky, staring down at his best friend with an unreadable expression.
Bucky sits up, waiting with bated breath for the pain to hit.
“She didn't hang up on you. Vision answered when I called back, and it looks like her boyfriend was the one who hung the phone up when he realized you were the one on the phone.” Steve puts the phone on the table and moves to sit back down.
Bucky feels relief to know you aren’t the one who hung up the phone, but it comes with pain at the news that you have a boyfriend.
“I could hear them fighting when I was talking to Vision. From what I could make out and from what Vision told me, she knows Buck. About you and Hydra and Tony…she knows all of it.” Steve watches his friend carefully as the fears he'd just been expressing come true.
“She's known for about a month and it…it doesn’t sound like she cares, Buck. Vision said that it seems, to him, like she's been waiting. He’s not sure exactly for what but he thinks she's waiting for you.” Curiosity getting the better of him, Steve leans forward. “What did she say to you?”
Bucky's stomach has bottomed out as panic grips his heart.
You know. You know all about his dark and tainted past. You know about Tony's parents and you still said what you said? Could it really be possible that an angel like you exists? Someone willing to look past his darkest days and see some good in him?
Bucky…just tell me to come home and I’ll come home.
That’s what you’d said. Could it really be that easy? And those sobs were they for him and not because of him?
Steve sighs. “Look, I don't know what you’re going to do but I’m here until midnight. If you want to call her again, I’ll be here. Just ask.”
Steve gets up and walks down the hall into his bedroom leaving Bucky to slump on his couch.
A few minutes later, Steve moves back down the hallway. “Hey, Buck, I’m not going to need any of these clothes anymore. Do you want any of it or should I just-" Steve pauses as he looks at his empty living room, the phone still on the coffee table. He peeks into the kitchen but finds no one in his now empty apartment.
He looks to the front door and finds it has been left slightly ajar as if someone had been in too much of a rush to close it properly. “Bucky?”
