PLEASE!!! read the Barnes files!! On ao3. They are so good!! I'm actually addicted and the way each of the characters is portrayed is so beautiful!!!! 🥲 Bucky is sad guys.
Pairing: fatws!Bucky x nurse!reader (featuring matchmaker!Alpine)
Word count: 7.5k
Summary: You’re a nurse living in Brooklyn. You’ve got a crush on your next door neighbour who doesn’t seem to know you exist. One day his cat finds its way into your apartment, forcing you both to finally meet. That’s when you learn that he’s James Buchanan Barnes, ex-Winter Soldier. Well, there goes your chances. Or maybe getting close to a superhero isn’t as far-fetched as it sounds.
Warnings: some mentions of Bucky dealing with past trauma and lack of confidence; Bucky has a brief emotional breakdown; minimal use of y/n; some sweetheart, but no “doll”
A/n: This is my extremely late entry for @pellucid-constellations love letter writing challenge. This idea had been stuck in my head for a while and the challenge gave me the push I needed to flesh it out so thank you, Kathie, for the inspiration! And I incorporated these two prompts:
“And I’ve never felt like that before, but something about you makes me want to feel like that.”
“Is it fair to say that you read the love letter and that this means ‘yes’?”
PS: I made Dr. Raynor a good therapist because that’s what our boy deserves. Also Bucky and Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle are basically the same character and no one can tell me otherwise. There are some major references to that movie so if you haven’t seen it, my apologies.
Act I
Lose a chatty white cat?
Come knock on 3B.
-Y/n
You pinned the note to the cork board next to the mailboxes and made your way back up to your apartment on the third floor.
You lived in an old three story walk-up. The kind with faded brick on the outside, no elevator, creaky wood floors, and never enough electrical outlets. The pipes shuddered in the walls at random times and sometimes the lights flickered. It was home and you loved it. The rent was cheap and everyone in the building was friendly enough.
Except for your next door neighbour.
Your shy, enigma of a neighbour who looked like a modern day Greek god. That chiselled jawline, his messy-on-top-short-on-the-sides brown hair, those black t-shirts and jeans he always wore that hugged him in all the right spots. It was enough to make heart beat pick up every time you passed each other in hallway.
You tried friendly hello’s and hi’s when he first moved in, which were always met with, well, nothing. He completely ignored all of your attempts at neighbourly interactions, averting his blue eyes to the ground whenever you greeted him. So you resigned to a simple smile anytime you crossed paths, in case he finally came out of his shell.
The old adage of you always want what you can’t have definitely held up. Your crush on your neighbour only intensified as the months went on.
There was something familiar about him, and he didn’t make you feel threatened the way most jacked up men would. Maybe it was his quiet demeanour, always trying to take up as little space as possible. Whatever it was, something in the way he carried himself made you feel safe knowing that you two shared a wall. New York had all sorts of strange people. It was comforting to know you had a strong neighbour next door in case something ever happened.
Not that you needed protection. You’d grown a thick skin over the past five years—working as a nurse in the emergency department at the Brooklyn Hospital Centre meant you dealt with some challenging situations. You loved your job, but you had definitely learned to think quick on your feet, becoming a master at diffusing a situation. Though it was your compassion and empathy that made you one of the top nurses on the floor and was why you put up with the shift work—you really just loved helping others.
“So who do you belong to, huh?” you asked the white ball of fur that was purring next to you on your couch. It let out a string of chirped meows in response as it pranced back and forth, nudging its head under your hand for more pets.
The feline had jumped in from the fire escape when you opened your window after getting back from your evening shift. The air was starting to warm up as winter finally retracted its icy grip over the city. You had felt the breath of spring in the air as you walked home from the train and wanted to let some fresh air in. As you pushed the heavy guillotine-style window up, the white cat bounded into your living room like a lightning bolt, nearly giving you a heart attack. You had stuck your head out of the window to see if any of your neighbours were out, but your search came up empty. You shut the window so the cat couldn’t escape, scribbled the quick note and ran down the stairs to post it. Your new visitor was perched on your couch when you came back a few minutes later, its tail lazily twitching back and forth, having wasted no time in making itself at home.
“Well whoever they are, I bet they miss you. You sure are sweet,” you continued, answered by another string of choppy meows.
A knock on the door interrupted your dialogue, and you scooped up the cat without even thinking whether or not it would be ok with being handled that way. Sure enough, the cat snuggled into the crook of your elbow, nuzzling its head under your chin. This was the most affectionate cat you had ever met.
You suffered your second close call with a heart attack that night as you opened your door. There stood your silent, moody, painfully attractive neighbour. He was wearing a leather jacket and black leather gloves on his hands, one of which was rubbing the back of his neck as he grimaced awkwardly at you.
“Hiya, neighbour,” you said as cooly as possible, desperately trying to ignore the pounding of your heart.
“Uh, sorry to bother you so late... but I read your note.”
“This sweet love muffin is yours I presume?” you asked, nudging your chin into the cat’s fur one last time before having to give it back.
Your crush chuckled at the nickname you’d already given his pet. “I’m not sure sweet is the right word to describe him. Though he sure seems to have taken a liking to you.”
“You mean he’s not like this all the time?”
“Uh, no. He barely lets me pick him up. You did get the chatty part right though. It's kinda nice to have around actually… I mean, uh…”
You watched as his icy blue eyes darkened and looked down at his hands he was now wringing together nervously. He’s lonely, you thought to yourself. Your heart clenched tighter for him.
“Well, I’m sure he’s going to be happy to be back home with you, won’t you…” you trailed off, realising you didn’t know what to call the cat. Or his owner for that matter.
Start with the easy one, Y/n, you told yourself. “What’s his name?”
“Alpine,” your neighbour replied softly, a half smile returning to his lips as he brought his gaze back up towards you. The cat mewled at the sound of his name, causing you both to laugh.
“Well, Alpine,” another meow, “it’s time to go back home with your dad.” You lifted the cat off your chest and handed him, with a bit of reluctance, back to your neighbour. You found a morsel of courage and added, “if you ever need a cat sitter, I’d be happy to. He’s a real sweetheart.”
“Thanks a lot. That’s uh, real kind of you,” he responded, a faint blush surfacing on his cheeks.
“Well, I guess I’ll let you two get reunited. I’m Y/n, by the way.”
“Right,” he hesitated a moment, as if trying to decide if he should tell you his name. “I’m Bucky.”
“Well, Bucky, it was nice to finally meet you. Remember, if you ever need someone to watch him, or anything really, just knock.”
“Will do. G’night then.”
“‘Night, neighbour.”
You closed the door, your cheeks on fire as you let out a groan. “‘Night, neighbour,” you repeated mockingly. Could you have laid it on any thicker? And how could someone that hot be that awkward? It was adorable and only strengthened your crush.
Well, at least I know his name now, you thought. “Bucky.” It had a familiar ring to it, but you couldn’t place why.
As you lay in bed that night, your mind replaying the interaction over and over, you finally gave in and grabbed your phone. As soon as you clicked “go” after typing “Bucky” into the search field, your heart nearly stopped for the third time.
“No fucking way,” you exclaimed out loud.
Your neighbour was James Buchanan Barnes. Brainwashed ex-assassin turned Avenger. You were crushing on a literal superhero.
“Well, there goes that,” you sighed, turning over to finally try and get some sleep. At least you knew there was no chance anymore. Still, maybe you’d get lucky and at least dream about him. At this point, you’d take what you could get. You closed your eyes, smiling at the possibility as you drifted off.
-----ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ-----
Act II
[Three weeks later]
“Shit,” Bucky muttered under his breath as he darted around his sparsely furnished apartment in search of his keys.
“I bet you did this on purpose, didn’t you,” he glared at Alpine.
The cat let out a single blunt chirp as he jumped onto the back of the couch to watch his owner fret over his belongings.
Bucky couldn’t afford to miss his appointment with Dr. Raynor. That was the whole basis of the pardon: state mandated therapy for a minimum of one year in exchange for exoneration from the crimes he the Winter Soldier committed.
“Ah ha!” he exclaimed, startling Alpine off the couch as he retrieved the set of keys from one of his shoes by the door. Must have fallen off the hook, he thought. The cat began circling through his legs while meowing at him, his routine every time Bucky prepared to leave.
Bucky picked up the cat and booped its small pink nose with the tip of his own. “I’ll be back soon, buddy. Don’t tear the place up while I’m out.”
The cat meowed low, as if offended at the thought, shaking himself out as soon as Bucky placed him back down on the floor.
When Bucky thinks back on what happened next, he can’t help but chuckle at the thought of his cat being this cunning. Normally Alpine would sit at the door as Bucky left. It was his send off routine that the cat never broke. Except for today. On this particular day, Alpine bolted through Bucky’s legs and into the hallway before the supersoldier knew what had happened.
“Dammit!” he yelled without thinking.
The curse caused you to turn around, your door still open as you were just getting home from an overnight shift. This gave Alpine enough time to brush past your legs and take immediate residence under your couch.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Bucky groaned under his breath.
“I think your cat might have a crush on me,” you said, any nervousness that normally bubbled up whenever you saw Bucky was currently being dulled by your fatigue from a 12-hour shift.
“I think you’re right,” Bucky chuckled. Him and me both, he admitted internally as he felt his cheeks heat up at the intrusive thought. Clearing his throat, he quickly found his words again. “I’m sorry to do this… you look like you’re just getting back from work… but, uh, would you mind watching him for just a few hours? I have an appointment that I really can’t miss.”
Bucky’s worry at the ask melted when he felt the warmth of your smile. “Of course! It usually takes me a few hours to wind down from a shift anyways, so it’s no trouble at all.”
“You’re a lifesaver. I’ll make it up to you, promise.”
“Don’t sweat it. That’s what neighbours are for, right?”
Bucky felt his heart rate increase as he saw the sincerity in your eyes match the tone of your voice. How could someone this beautiful be this sweet? He felt his crush intensify with every interaction you both had, and it was almost becoming unbearable. Almost.
“Right. Well, thanks again. I’ll be back around 11. Is that okay?”
“Yup, no problem. Go on, or you’ll be late.”
“Thanks, neighbour”
“Anytime,” you said softly with your ever-present smile, making Bucky’s stomach flutter.
He nodded and turned away, before you could see how red his cheeks could go. "Thanks, neighbour"... Jesus Christ, Barnes, get it together and stop being a creep.
***
“I can sense the apprehension about asking your neighbour out. But I’m still not following how it would make you a creep. Can you try and explain that part for me?”
Bucky sighed as he looked up at the ceiling, then out the window. Dr. Raynor always forced him to articulate his thoughts in more detail than he felt comfortable with, or even capable of.
He loathed it.
And he also recognized that it was the part about this whole therapy thing that was helping him the most. Separating fears from reality. Getting at the root of his emotions, rather than burying them.
“It’s just…” he trailed off with another sigh, before forcing himself to push through the discomfort. “They're not dumb. I’m sure they know who I am. What I’ve done… there’s just no way they'd want to be with someone like me.” Bucky looked at his gloved hands pressed into his thighs. That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? He could never be good enough for someone like you.
“So what I’m hearing is that because of the actions you were brainwashed into carrying out, actions that you yourself would never do, you believe you could never be good enough for this neighbour who—from what you’ve shared with me—seems to like you quite a bit. Is that right?”
“I don’t know about that last part, but, yeah, I guess that’s it,” Bucky resigned quietly, finally making eye contact with Dr. Raynor again.
“I’m really sorry you feel that way, James. I bet it feels quite lonely to think that you don’t deserve to be liked or cared about by anyone.”
Bucky felt his eyes steam. It happened sometimes when Dr. Raynor touched on a hard truth. He wasn’t there yet, though. Letting himself cry. A few drops had seeped through the cracks, but the dam he had built since getting himself back was holding steady for now.
He sniffed before responding, urging the lump in his throat to retreat.
“I just… how could someone feel safe with me? Accept me… knowing all of that?”
“Well, like we’ve talked about in other sessions, that wasn’t you. I know it’s hard for you to accept and I understand why. But it's important I keep reiterating it. Why don’t we try looking at it from a new angle and see if this helps?”
Bucky nodded. As if I've got a choice.
“Great. Now imagine someone who’s been oppressed by their government and has had all of their freedoms taken away, including providing for their family. If they steal a loaf of bread to feed their starving children, do they deserve to go to jail?”
Bucky doesn’t even need to think about it. “No.”
“And if a child is held at gunpoint and told to shoot his pet dog or else his family would be killed, is he an animal killer?”
“Absolutely not.”
“So do you see that everything isn’t black or white? That in certain circumstances, under pressure, even when we know right from wrong, the lines are blurred?”
Bucky nodded.
“So can you then see how those lines are blurred even more when someone is brainwashed and trained to go against their conscience? When someone has their free will stripped from them?”
Bucky was silent for a long moment. He was conscious of the memories playing in the background of his mind as he processed what Dr. Raynor was asking him. Memories of missions as the Winter Soldier. But there was a new process happening that surprised him. It was faint at first, but he started seeing the person in the memories not as himself, but as someone else. Like a character in a brutal horror film. He was still affected by it, but when he looked at the emotions that were coming up, the guilt he normally felt was being overpowered by empathy for the killer.
“I can see what I said affected you. What’s happening for you right now? Where did you just go?”
“I, uh—” Bucky cleared his throat, willing his eyes to stay dry. “I can see it. I can see how I... he... had no choice. He was forced. I can see it.” Bucky felt his voice tremble and he closed his eyes, breathing deep through the epiphany he’d just had.
“This is huge, James. I’m really happy to hear that. I want you to try and remember those anecdotes whenever feelings of guilt or shame arise over what the Winter Soldier was tortured into doing. I know it won’t be easy, and some days it won’t work. But I’d like you to try. Do you think you can do that?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Bucky responded, opening his eyes and feeling lighter all of a sudden.
“Good. Well, that’s time for today. Good luck picking up your cat—though something tells me you won’t need it,” Dr. Raynor offered with a smile.
“Thanks, doc. For everything.”
“You’re very welcome, James. See you next week.”
***
For the first time since starting his sessions with Dr. Raynor, Bucky left her office with a smile on his face. He stopped at the florist stand he always walked past on his way home and bought a bouquet of daisies.
He practically ran up the three stories to your shared floor. His palms started sweating under his gloves the instant he knocked on your door.
A yawn escaped your mouth as you opened up. “Oh my gosh, hi. I’m so sorry. Oh wow, those are pretty. Got a big date lined up after this?”
Bucky chuckled, his nerves suddenly melting at your frantic style of talking and frank teasing. “Nah, I’ve just got this sweet neighbour who watched my cat for me and I wanted to thank them.”
Bucky noticed the grin creep across your face as you averted your gaze for an instant before reaching your hand out.
“Well c’mon in then. Let me get those in water. Al and I had just started Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind. You’re free to join us if you like.”
Bucky closed the door behind him and instinctively took off his shoes. He didn’t know what you were talking about, but he wasn’t about to turn down your invitation.
“What’s that?”
“Uhhh, Miyazaki? Hayao Miyazaki? Studio Ghibli? Anime?” You kept broadening your reference, looking increasingly more shocked when he didn’t recognize anything you were saying.
“Sorry, I lost a lot of time between now and the 40s. Not caught up on everything yet.” Bucky stopped himself suddenly. It was the first time he’d mentioned his past to anyone outside of Sam and Dr. Raynor.
“Right, oh my gosh that was so insensitive. I’m so sorry.”
Relief flooded through his veins. Dr. Raynor was right. You obviously knew who he was and clearly didn’t mind, seeing as how you'd just invited him into your apartment. In fact, you seemed almost, well, happy about it. “‘S’alright. Why don’t you enlighten me on this Miya… Miya… whatever it is.”
Bucky sat at your kitchen island as you explained your love for a specific type of animated film from a Japanese director, all while you arranged your daisies in a simple mason jar. He could get used to watching your eyes light up as you shared your passions with him.
“Ugh, I’m babbling,” you said suddenly, breaking his fixation.
“Not at all. I asked. Besides, I love hearing about this type of stuff. You don’t read about all these subcultures in the history briefings they gave me.”
“Yeah I bet. Well, we were more or less at the beginning. Wanna see what it’s all about?”
“Sure,” Bucky accepted. His cheeks were already hurting from smiling.
“Great. You drink tea? It’s mint. I made a pot already.”
“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.”
“Gosh, I wish people still had those 1940s manners. Go make yourself comfortable on the couch.”
Bucky blushed at the complement as he sat beside Alpine, who was curled up and purring. “My ma raised me to always be polite.”
“Well, she did a good job,” you said, filling up a mug and handing it to him. “Ready?” you asked.
Bucky leaned back into your couch. It was a lot more comfortable than his own. “Ready.”
You pressed play and Bucky settled in for what would be the most incredible film experience he’d had in his life. He didn’t know animation could look like that. He vaguely remembered seeing a cartoon rabbit, but that was in black and white. He’d never seen anything like this. He was so enthralled that he didn’t notice you had fallen asleep until the end credits began to roll. All at once Bucky remembered you had just come back from work that morning. Nice going, Barnes, he thought guiltily.
You were stretched out on the chaise part of your l-couch, so he covered you with the blanket that was draped over the back of the sofa. You stirred slightly, rolling onto your side, but you were out cold. He scribbled a message in his notebook, quietly tearing it out and then folding it in half. He left it next to the teapot before scooping up Alpine, then did the same with his shoes before he snuck out of your apartment. He paused, realising he had no way to lock the door behind him. He’d stay in today and keep an ear on your door to make sure no one entered.
***
When you woke for your shift that evening, your eyes immediately fell on the note.
Thanks for watching Alpine.
And for the culture lesson.
I’d like to learn more if you’re open to teaching.
-Bucky
-----ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ-----
Act III
[Two months later]
“I’m so excited for this one. It’s my go-to comfort film when I’m sick or feeling down. I mean, sure, it might not be the best one, but… I dunno, there’s just something about the story that I love. And we're watching it without subtitles this time because the voiceovers are THAT good.”
“Oh wow, isn’t that sacrilege?” You knew he was teasing you. Bucky’s lips always turned up on one side and he scrunched his nose making the corners of his eyes crinkle when he was teasing you.
“Nuh-uh, not for Howl’s Moving Castle. The voices are just so right for this one.”
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
Somewhere during the past few months the term of endearment had slipped out of Bucky’s mouth. You didn’t object and he kept on saying it. The way the nickname made your stomach perform backflips was almost unbearable. Almost.
Right from the beginning, the opening scenery of the castle moving through the fog had you swooning, as per usual. You leaned into Bucky’s shoulder and he immediately tucked you into his side.
That was also a new development you’d made together sometime during your previous movie night. The film on that night had been Spirited Away—you were taking Bucky through all the Miyazaki films in chronological order. The scene where Haku takes Chihiro to see her parents in the pigpen always got to you and you leaned into Bucky for comfort out of sheer instinct. He wrapped an arm around you, and you both stayed like that for the rest of the film.
Assuming the same position on this night, you exhaled, immediately relieved that he seemed open to it. You had agonised over the last movie night, worried that levelling up on the intimacy with Bucky had just been a one-off. Or that you’d scared him away by being too clingy? Affectionate? Too you? Well, all of those anxieties melted away as you felt his muscular hold around you tighten. Being that close, smelling him. It had you reeling like a hormone-filled teenager. I could get used to this, you thought as you relaxed into his warmth and settled your eyes back on the film.
About half way through through, something suddenly clicked in your mind. You’d never thought about it until now, but there were striking similarities between the lives of Bucky and Howl. Both were used as tools for political reasons that went against their values. Both seemed to believe they were monsters and struggled at accepting affection.
Not that Bucky had shared that with you in so many words. But through bits and pieces, you could easily glean he still felt shame about his past. You tried to show him that none of that mattered to you. You didn’t want him to think you pitied him either, but boy, did your heart hurt when you thought about everything he went through. All the history you had read. He had his life stolen from him, was tortured, and then plunked back into a completely different world. Twice, if you counted the blip. How was he still here, still fighting, still trying, and all with that wry sense of humour? You’d never fully understand, but you were grateful for it.
“How’re you liking it so far?” you asked softly, pausing the movie and pulling out from under Bucky’s arm. You wanted to check in without seeming like you were mother henning him.
“It’s really sweet. And the scenery is beautiful. I can see why you like this one the best.”
“Want a refill on your tea? Or I can get you a snack? Are you cold? I have more blankets—”
“Hey, what’s going on? You seem nervous.” He shifted his position so that you were facing each other.
You sighed seeing the concern ripple across his forehead, the thought hitting you like a ton of bricks: right, he’s a supersoldier, you can’t get anything past him.
“It’s just…”
“You can say it, sweetheart. I won’t be upset,” he assured as he took your hand. You were suddenly aware of the lack of gloves. Well that’s new. You stopped your brain from going down that corridor and refocused.
“It’s just, the rest of the movie gets a bit dark. And I forgot how much it surrounds the war and how Howl is forced to fight in a way that makes him feel like a monster and I—”
A gentle smile slowly bloomed on Bucky’s face. “You’re worried about me?”
Your cheeks warmed at the question. “Yeah,” you admitted.
“C’mere,” he whispered, opening his arm back up to you. “I promise if it’s too much I’ll tell you, ‘kay?”
“‘Kay,” you whispered back, resuming your previous position against his torso. Though this time, your hands were clasped. You felt him press his lips into the top of your head before he leaned his chin there. The backflips your stomach had done at the beginning started all over again, and you pressed play on the movie before you melted.
***
You were worried about him. You were worried about him. Bucky didn’t know what he was doing with you. It wasn’t like in the forties. Not by a long shot. Besides, those days of courting and going out dancing now floated around his brain like something he’d seen in a dream once but couldn’t decipher how any of it worked.
All he knew was he’d decided at the last second to not wear his gloves this time and when he took your hand with both of his, you didn’t flinch so he had to be doing something right.
Bucky didn’t let go of your hand the whole movie, except during one of the war scenes when his grip tightened enough that you had to gently ask him to loosen it. His stomach dropped at the thought that he had hurt you, but you assured him you were fine, wiggling your fingers in front of him as proof. With reluctance, he took your word for it. Though his guilt faded when you interlocked your fingers with his once more and leaned back into his chest and you started the film again.
You had been right. Something about the movie did finally get to him. Maybe it was how convinced Howl was that he would become the monster he hated. Maybe it was the fear that Sophie wouldn’t love him as he truly was. All he knew was that when Sophie told Howl to come find her in the future, disproving every worry Howl had, Bucky finally felt the dam crack. He tried to even his breathing. Tried to focus on something else. Anything else. Nothing stopped the constant steady stream of tears that began flowing down his cheeks. By the time the credits began to roll, Bucky couldn’t stop his body from shuddering with each stifled sob.
“Oh, James,” you consoled in a hushed voice, pulling him into a hug. The instant your arms were around him the entire structure snapped. The dam had broken completely and it all came rushing out. The guilt for every single person he’d killed. The grief for what he had been forced to do. The anger at HYDRA for taking away his choices and stealing his memories. The agony of losing his life. His family. Steve.
All of it gushed out of him in choked, heaving sobs, melting into a blubbering mess they way Howl melted when his hair colour potion was accidentally ruined.
The only tether to the present came from the comforting circles Bucky felt you rubbing between his shoulder blades. And your voice, offering him sweet assurances that helped ground him through the first real emotional release he had had in, well, maybe ever.
“You’re safe here. I've got you. Let it all out.”
Bucky was so grateful that you didn’t release your hold until his breathing evened out to the occasional hiccup. He was sure if you had let go even a minute sooner, he might have been carried off in the flood of his own tears, pulled under the waves, never to surface again.
When you told him you were just going to get him some tissues and a glass of water, he felt himself nod as he wiped his face with his sleeve.
Bucky gratefully accepted the tissues first before the water when you returned. He suddenly became acutely aware of the episode he’d just had in your living room and was mortified.
“Ugh, thanks,” he replied sheepishly before turning away to blow his nose. Then he took the water, downing it in one go, desperately trying to calculate the best route out of this before you could reject him. It was inevitable. There was no way you would want to continue spending time with him after witnessing this.
“Better?”
“Much,” he assured before releasing shaky sigh as he leaned back into your couch. “I’m really sorr—”
“Nope. You don’t get to finish that sentence.”
Bucky was jolted by your bluntness, and it shocked him out of his self-doubt spiral. Were you angry? He was expecting you to call it a night, maybe make an excuse about having to work, then simply stop inviting him over. But anger?
“Listen to me,” you directed with a firm tone, taking both his hands and making sure you had his gaze before continuing. “You, James Buchanan Barnes, have absolutely nothing to be sorry about. This world has done nothing but shit on you and yet here you are feeling like you’re not even allowed to be sad sometimes. That’s fucking bullshit and I refuse to let you apologize for having emotions. You got that?”
Bucky smiled at how wrong he had been before wiping another rogue tear from his eye. He had no idea what he had done to deserve your protective kindness, but he wasn’t about to refuse it.
“Got it.”
“Okay then, I’m glad that’s settled.”
Bucky laughed, a full and hearty laugh at that. Gosh, you were something else.
“What? I wasn’t joking!”
“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he said, still chuckling. You accepted him. You accepted him. All of him.
“Then what’s so funny?”
He loved when you got that confused, almost annoyed look on your face.
“Nothin’. Just you. It’s endearing how passionate you get.”
“Oh, I’m endearing am I?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Hmmmm, well I’m glad someone thinks so. Usually my “passion” is too much for most people.”
“Now that I refuse to believe.” Bucky’s chest tightened at the thought of anyone not loving everything about you, and he squeezed your hand to emphasise his sentiments.
“It’s okay. I keep a pretty rough work schedule that’s never aligned with most people. The loner life suits me fine. Though, I’ll admit it has been nice having someone to share my time with these past few months.”
Bucky felt his heart clench as you pulled your hand away from his grasp after that confession.
“Hey, no,” he objected at the loss of contact, tugging your hand back. “Please don't pull away. I’ve really enjoyed whatever this is too.”
“Yeah?” you asked him. Your eyes were desperately searching his for assurance. Gosh, he’d get lost in your gaze if he wasn’t careful.
“Yeah,” he assured, slowly leaning towards you. This is it, Barnes. Now’s your chance.
Bucky’s phone rang, startling them both.
“Shit,” he muttered as he flipped it open. He watched your face change as Sam rattled off logistics and coordinates and timelines. He hated that he was the reason for the sudden look of disappointment on your face.
“You have to go, don’t you,” you asked when he closed the phone.
“Yeah. Probably for a while this time. I hate to ask, but—”
“James, please, you don’t even need to ask anymore. Of course I’ll watch Alpine. He and I are best buds now,” you said, petting the purring fluff ball that was curled up on your side of the couch.
“I’ll come back in a few and give you a spare a set of keys so you can grab all of his food and toys.”
“You’re… you’re leaving right away?” you asked with a surprised tone.
“Yeah, sorry. I…” he sighed before continuing, “It’s part of the job.”
His heart sank at the hint of sadness in your voice. How would this ever work? How could he do this to you every time he had to go on a mission? There’s no way you would ever be ok with this.
“No, don’t apologise. I was more worried about you having to go straight to work after that. But I get it, trust me. I know I’m nothing like a superhero, but working in a hospital I do understand urgency.”
“You’re a superhero to me, sweetheart,” he said, holding onto that thin thread of hope that maybe you really could accept him as he was, supersoldier job and all.
Bucky felt a sudden rush of adrenaline. Leaning in, he placed a tender kiss on your cheek, memorising the scent of your shampoo, the softness of your skin beneath his lips, the way your breath hitched at the contact. He locked those memories away where no one would ever get them before pushing himself up off the couch.
“Just come back in one piece, okay?” you ordered, looking into his eyes for assurance.
“Always do,” he offered. Whether it was for you or himself, he couldn’t say.
-----ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ-----
Act IV
[Two weeks later]
“This is not one piece, Bucky.”
Your neighbour had returned, bloody, bruised, and barely standing.
“‘S fine. I’m fine. Supersoldier, remember?” he asked, twisting his vibranium arm in the air to emphasise his point. “I’ll heal in no time.”
You were not convinced, nor comforted. “This is… fuck, Bucky. I see a lot of wounds in emerg, but this is bad.”
He winced as you passed yet another alcohol wipe over a particularly deep gash running from the middle of his forehead down to his temple. “This one needs stitches.”
“Whatever you say, nurse.”
You squinted your eyes together, sending him a disapproving glare at his attempt to lighten the situation.
“Sweetheart, please stop worrying. It’s part of the job. I’ve had worse.”
“Worse?! What do you… no, that’s not what this is about.” You exhaled in a frustrated huff, “I can’t do this right now.”
“Do what?” His teasing grin softened as he pulled your hands down from treating his forehead and into his lap. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
“You!”
He jumped a bit at your sudden exclamation. You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before finding your words again.
“Bucky, I saw the news. I saw what you and Sam were up against. You… you could have died.” You felt your breath catch in your throat. “And then Alpine and I would be…” you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Another word and you would fall apart.
“If something happened, I know Alpine would be fine with you.”
“Alpine?! What?” Was he seriously making light of this right now? “Bucky, do you see yourself? This isn’t a fucking joke.”
“I know, you’re right. I’m sorry.” He tried to bring your hand up to his lips, but you pulled yourself from his grip before he had the chance.
“No more talking until I’m done,” you ordered as you disinfected your hands again to pick up where you left off.
You couldn’t bear any more placating. You were seething. How could he find humour in leaving you? Bucky coming into your life had been the best thing that had ever happened to you. You finally found someone that saw you, that understood you, that seemed to truly like you for you, flaws and all. How could he joke about leaving you alone again?
Then it hit you. You weren’t really together. Sure you were friends. Maybe closer than that. But you’d never moved passed the cuddling stage. Maybe he just didn’t think of you in that way.
You felt a tear stream down your cheek as you tied the final stitch.
“There. The rest will clean off fine in a hot shower. I think I should go.”
“Hold on a second.” He grabbed your hand again, this time he wasn’t grinning. “I’m really sorry, I know this looks bad but—”
“No. I really can’t do this right now.” You tugged your hand free and got up from the makeshift nursing station you had laid out on his kitchen table. Then you took a deep breath before saying making your case, “You know, Alpine’s not the only one that would care if you didn’t come back.”
You turned on your heels and rushed out of his apartment before you broke down.
***
“Well, I really fucked that up didn’t I, Al?”
The cat responded with a single low mewl before jumping down from the chair next to where you had been sitting to go curl up on the sofa.
Bucky had assumed you would be fine seeing him banged up considering how often you encountered injuries and blood at work. Sure, he was a little more broken than usual after a mission, but he figured you’d just be happy to see him. He had completely misread the situation and now you were clearly upset.
He took his time showering, letting the hot water soothe his aching muscles as he figured out the best way to finally confess how he felt about you. To make you understand that losing you—not coming back to you—that it wasn’t an option for him.
When he told Dr. Raynor how every time he tried to tell you how he felt that the words simply vanished, she suggested writing you a letter. He’d passed it off as old fashioned at the time, something that past Bucky might have done. He was trying to let his old self go, accept himself as he was now. Modern Bucky. Whoever that was.
But as he stood in the shower, hot water raining down on him, remembering the hurt in your eyes as you more or less told him how you cared about him, he knew it was the only way he could ever fully communicate exactly how much he had fallen in love with you over these past few months.
Once he was dry and dressed, Bucky rummaged through the box of files and papers S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him after he received his pardon. He found the notepad and pen that he knew was buried somewhere amongst the folders. Then pushing all the wound care supplies to one side of the table, he sat down and started writing. The words flowed without another thought and he didn’t stop until he’d signed his name at the bottom.
***
Your sobs finally slowed to the occasional hiccup. You took some deep breaths then made your way out to the kitchen for water. It wasn’t until you’d downed a glass and were turning off the lights before crawling back into bed that you noticed it. The white envelope, resting on the hardwood a few inches from your front door.
Bucky, you thought. You smiled a little, suddenly feeling sheepish at the tantrum you threw. You knew he cared about you. You felt it in the way he squeezed your hand. The way he tucked you under his arm during movies. When he had pressed his lips to your cheek the night he’d left on the mission.
You leaned down to pick up the envelope, then settled into the couch to read its contents.
Y/n,
I need to apologise. And before your brain tries to deny me of that need, please just hear me out.
I’m sorry for making you think that it didn’t matter if I came back.
I want to be honest, there was a time not that long ago when that would have been true. I would go on missions as a penance. Trying to make up for all of the bloodshed that I caused as the Winter Soldier. But I know now that it wasn’t my fault. That I don’t deserve to keep punishing myself for crimes that I had no choice in committing. The reality of it is punishment enough–something I can now accept I didn’t deserve.
But it happened. And I can’t change that. I can’t change my past or who I am today as a result. I won’t ever be able to be a regular citizen in society. I will always be connected to that life in some way because it’s what I know. But I also know a lot more now. I’ve read things and experienced things that have made me see life differently.
And so much of that is thanks to you.
Now when I go on missions, it’s not as penance but an opportunity to do something good. Not just to be better for me or for others, but to be better for you. And I’ve never felt that before, about someone else, but something about you makes me want to feel like that.
You’re the sun pushing its way between cracks in the rain clouds, casting your rays through my past and lighting up a rainbow, bringing colours into my life that I didn’t know existed until now. Until you.
I’ve fallen in love with your smile and your laughter. With the way your eyes light up when you talk about your favourite film or a new song you want to show me. With your compassionate heart and the way you always accept others as they are, no matter what they’ve come from.
I’ve fallen in love with you.
I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same, but I couldn’t bear you not knowing how much you mean to me. How I promise not to leave you alone with Alpine—I promise to come back to you. Every time. No matter how long it takes. If you’ll have me.
With love,
Your James
The waterworks were back in full force as you pressed the letter to your chest. But this time they were happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears from being overwhelmed with love for your neighbour. For the man who had been put through so much. Yet, despite it all, still wanted to find beauty in the world. Wanted to find a reason to be good. And the reason he had chosen was you.
On instinct, you rushed out your apartment door and began knocking frantically on Bucky’s.
The second it opened, your mouth crashed into his with such force you nearly knocked him over.
It was passionate and needy, your arms wrapping around his neck as you felt both his palms cup your cheeks, one hard one soft. The sensation gave you goosebumps. Your lips explored each other from every angle, making sure every supple edge was surveyed. Your tongues danced ever so softly in the background until you both finally came up for air.
“Is it fair to say that you read the letter and that this means ‘yes’?” he asked as he pressed his forehead into yours. His pupils were blown wide as you gazed into the ocean of his eyes.
“Yes, James. I’ll have you. All of you. If you’ll have me?”
“One hundred times, yes. God, I love you,” he muttered, pressing his lips into your forehead before pulling you into his arms.
“I love you too,” you whispered into his chest, breathing in his scent. This was real. He was real.
Suddenly a slew of chirps erupted from Alpine as the cat weaved its way through both of your legs.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was gloating,” Bucky chuckled.
“Hmmm, well he is the reason we’re here.”
“Maybe it was his plan all along. To bring me to you.”
“If it was, well then I owe him a thank you.” You tilted your head down towards the white feline still prancing around you both. “Thanks, Al, for bringing me my James.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, as if the words were only intended for the cat. But Bucky heard you loud and clear.
“I am yours, for as long as you’ll have me,” Bucky confirmed softly, the warmth of it heating every inch of your being. The beating of his heart echoing in your ear was all you needed to know he meant every word.
After the whole couples therapy scene and Dr. Raynor asks Bucky what's wrong and he asks, "What was rule number two again?" what if that wasn't about him questioning why he had to go fight the flag smashers and potentially hurt those people and go against all he's just learned, but because he was upset at the fact that he just hurt Sam emotionally, and he was mad that she led them into that situation where he said hurtful things to Sam.
so i found a dr raynor vs dr harrow analysis i wrote a while back just sitting in my drafts so here it is for anyone that cares lol:
so in hindsight, neither of them are necessarily good or bad therapists. i think, like real life, they have varying qualities about them that will either play into their patients strengths, or just totally go against their weaknesses.
i think marvel is a little… unbalanced, shall we say? when it comes to portraying real life therapy. now, i would like to stress that dr harrow isn’t real (in terms of existing in the mcu world) he’s simply a creation from marc’s mind, and so when i discuss his tactics against dr raynor’s consider that im saying all of this with a pinch of salt because some of his behaviour/actions just stems from marc’s own perspective on therapist and therapy.
i’ll talk about dr raynor first however since we saw her actually exist with the mcu and give a real therapy session. now, bucky barnes and marc spector are two completely different characters. they’ve experienced different things, experienced different mental health issues, however it’s evident that both of them are victims of very heavy trauma.
so when we meet dr raynor in episode one, it’s evident that her and bucky do not get along. which, in itself is no crime. im sure a lot of people can relate to having some sort of resilience towards their therapist, especially under bucky’s circumstances where it’s government mandated instead of voluntary (aka, he’s not doing this for his own sake of getting better but rather because it’s required of him to do so). their relationship is strained, he’s very closed off, there’s a lot of very blunt answers and raynor… i feel lets it aggravate her. now, we know as a character bucky is stubborn, he can be blunt and snappy. and im gonna pretend like marvel put any thought behind this at all, but i imagine that when picking an appropriate therapist for bucky, they went with someone that was most like him, in order to make him feel vulnerable enough to open up. bucky certainly doesn’t need to be babied. he doesn’t need a therapist that is gonna coddle him every time he refuses to talk about his ptsd fuelled nightmares, or allow him to simply sit in silence for the entirety of the session just so he can say he went. in that aspect, raynor is a good therapist for bucky. someone who isn’t gonna shy away from him, someone who’s clearly not afraid of him – and that’s key. bucky spends a lot of time worrying about himself and how he is perceived. having raynor be blunt with him isn’t her just being an asshole, but it’s simply showing him “hey, im not gonna treat you any differently because who you are and what you did. this is how it is now suck it up and help yourself get better.”
i believe in that aspect, raynor is a pretty good fit for bucky. my gripe comes with basically how the show wrote her. i think again, it’s not so much her as a character but how marvel projects therapy into their show. raynor did some pretty unprofessional things. she taunted him about his dead family and friends as a means to get him to open up (yeesh) she makes sam sit in on a therapy session with neither of their consent (big no no) and her entire purpose of her being there is to get bucky to make amends to the people the winter soldier has hurt in the past. not once does she make it explicitly clear to him that HE is not responsible for any of that. that bucky is not behind all those deaths, that it was hydra who did that. she sends him on a wild goose chase, basically making him feel worse, and the guilt just piles on. her character is good, her execution of how to help bucky is not.
so overall: raynor gets a 3.5/5 stars from me in terms of, okay i see what you’re doing but holy cow marvel you’re going about it the wrong way entirely.
as for dr harrow, again, like i stated before, it’s a little tricky to compare the two because he’s not an actual therapist. his existence stems from marc’s subconscious whilst they are dead so… again: pinch of salt lol
i think, from my own perspective, his portrayal comes across as very authentic. again, marc (nor steven) need to babied. they don’t need to be treated like children because of their mental illnesses. but in this sense, dr harrow does treat marc (and i’m just gonna reference marc since he has the most screen time with him) with a sense of… fragility.
it’s evident that in those scenes, marc is definitely unwell. he’s going through an episode and he’s clearly not at his peak in regards to his mental state. dr harrow doesn’t belittle him, nor is he cruel. he’s gentle and soft spoken because it’s clear he knows what kind of environment marc needs when he’s in this headspace. i actually really loved ethan hawke’s betrayal of this character, it was really interesting and fun to watch, and i think he just really felt like an actual therapist of a mentally ill man, rather than someone pretending to be one.
he engages in marc’s questions or worries. he’s never dismissive however, he gets to the point in telling marc (or jake in this scene, whatever you want) that the things he’s seeing with the hippopotamus is nonsense, and gets him to say it out loud so that he can understand it better. he reiterated that not everything he is seeing is real, and does so by not necessarily talking down to him but just… telling him. talking to him and then parroting back his own statement so that marc can confirm he understands why that is.
he makes a sharp turn though when it’s steven fronting. and again, dr harrow is very calm with him, he’s patient in allowing him to ask questions and then insult him (lol) but when it comes down to his mother, steven starts to panic and dr harrow’s idea of helping him with that is to pretend to call steven’s mother to which it’s just an empty dial tone, and that is the moment steven is confronted with the information that his mother is in fact dead.
now… idk about you but uhhh that would fuck me up pretty badly lmao. if i was under the belief that my family member was alive and well, and this was because of years and years of childhood trauma had caused me to repress that so much (which dr harrow knows) i don’t think it’d be a safe and sensible thing to do that kind of shock/exposure therapy. he very bluntly (but packages it up to look like he’s being nice) forces steven to face the facts that his mother has already passed away, and he’s been essentially lied to. i personally just don’t think that’s a fair way to do it, but understandably a lot of people differ in how they react to certain forms of therapy, and if it works for you then it works, but again, none of this is real and this is just me rambling lol
so in conclusion i think marvel are still figuring out how to write a good therapist. and don’t get me wrong: i don’t think either of them were meant to be necessary “good” therapists, but marvel sometimes think they’re writing a positive character trait when in actuality they’re not and that can blur the lines sometimes as to what their actual purpose is there and what marvel is essentially saying is a good example of therapy, and what isn’t.
this is all just my own personal opinion. im not a therapist and honestly i just make all of this up as i go along but yeah. that’s my babbling done for now :) if anyone has anything else they’d like to add on to this then feel free !! thanks :)
I’ve been saying this for YEARS, but the fact that zemo posed as a psychologist while bucky was trapped against his will, and then intentionally triggered his hydra programming? no doubt bucky got major trust issues from that, on top of having decades of trauma from being brainwashed and gaslighted, and being from a time when mental health was much more stigmatized. it’s going to be a long journey for him to really be able to trust any mental health professional
Why Bucky's journey in TFATWS is actually a great one
I know I'm getting into some serious hot waters here, and honestly I might delete this post if I get too much hate for it, but here goes:
Bucky's portrayal in TFATWS is actually amazing in terms of storytelling and representation of military trauma.
Ever since I got on Tumblr (6months ago-ish) I've seen that, for a lot of Bucky fans, seeing his TFATWS arc was very upsetting, and the argument behind that is that everyone keeps acting like Bucky is guilty for his actions as the winter soldier. And I think that's actually where people are mistaken.
No one is saying that Bucky intentionnally did what he did as the winter soldier. What people like Sam and Dr. Raynor are saying is that Bucky did it. Period.
And that is such a huge difference: all the characters here know that Bucky didn't have a choice, that he was brainwashed and tortured by Hydra (that's why he's being pardoned, because he didn't have a choice). But at the end of the day, it's still Bucky who was used to commit those crimes. When he closes his eyes, he sees himself killing those people, he sees his hands holding the gun or the knife or the neck and squeezing. So Bucky still did those things, even if he did them without having a choice in the matter.
So where does he go from there?
I see a lot of people bashing Dr. Raynor for her methods, saying Bucky should have been seeing someone who stresses how innocent he was and generally being soft and gentle with Bucky. I'm sorry, but nothing would have been more out of character for MCU Bucky Barnes.
Bucky was very young when he went to fight Nazis, and the people he had to kill were probably even younger. The reality of war is that Bucky probably had to kill 18yo German soldiers and didn't have any choice in the matter because disobeying the army during a war means being branded a deserter and killed. Bucky didn't have a choice back then, and yet he was still responsible for killing an 18yo who probably listened to nazi propaganda for years, was enlisted by force, and is - as often during a war - probably drugged so he won't sleep, and be more likely to run into the front lines and shoot on sight. That's what war is and that's where the inspiration behind the character of the winter soldier came from: soldiers are always powerless tools in the hands of leaders.
Now to go back to TFATWS Bucky and what taking responsability means: it means coming to term with what other people made you do. And that involves owning the fact that it's you who did those things, even if you aren't to blame. This is not a cookie cutter solution for everyone, but it is specifically appropriate for a soldier like Bucky, someone who has been going from one war to another for almost a century (and I think Raynor saw that the moment she met him): Bucky is a man of action. He needs to do something otherwise he just spirals. Much like Steve, he can't just sit by and let someone else take over the job for him. Even in Wakanda, when he was resting, he was still actively working on being deprogrammed from Hydra. Because the alternative? Saying to Bucky, again and again, Hydra made you do those things, you had nothing to do with it, now rest, that would drive Bucky insane because it would force him to acknowledge his lack of control. By displacing all the responsability (again, there is a difference between blame and responsability, Hydra gets 100% of the blame but Bucky is still sharing in the responsability) onto Hydra, it leaves Bucky with nothing but nightmares and a sense of guilt he can't shake.
But if you say: you're not guilty of anything, but you still did those things, and we need to find a way for you to acknowledge that and move on from them, then Bucky can do something about it. And that's what TFATWS arc is about. It's not about absolving Bucky or treating him like a villain. I don't even see it as a redemption arc (what kind of redemption arc starts with the villain already feeling bad? Loki doesn't feel bad in the first episode of his show). It's a healing arc.
Telling Bucky that he's responsible - again, responsible, not guilty - for what he did as the winter soldier, and telling him to make amends, is part of healing. And only soldiers like Sam and Raynor, people who had to do horrible things for the military and didn't have a choice, because the very basis of the military is following orders, understand that about Bucky. Bucky is a soldier, not a civilian. And healing for a soldier is very different fom healing for a civilian. It's about coming to terms with what other people made you do because the matrix of a soldier's mind is accepting to follow orders even when you don't agree with them. (No wonder Steve was such a terrible soldier.)
That's also why Sam tells Bucky there is a difference between amending and avenging. Because guilt isn't reasonable. Bucky won't feel less guilty just because he acknowledges nothing he did as a the winter soldier is his fault. It won't erase the nightmares, it won't stop the depression. But saying: okay, you did those things, now let's fix what you can? That will help him sleep.
