Nesting Site [FINAL]: Bucky x Reader
Summary: What happens when birds no longer sing? When a wall is put up so high, the light no longer shows? When the only way it can crumble is when someone has to die?
Warnings/Themes: Angst, fluff, humor, profanity, blood/mild gore, character death, drugs/being drugged, mutual-pining hidden by hotheaded denial, Self-destructive behavior, implications of depression/PTSD.
Author’s Note: A small wrap-up. I hope you enjoyed this tiny series!
Last Chapter
--
Things were back to normal, or so they seemed.
Smiles. Laughs. Boundless energy.
But Bucky knew. Out of everyone here, he knew you the best.
Your smile stopped reaching your eyes. It seemed you were too tired to move your lips that way. Instead, you allow them to fall into a frown when others weren’t looking.
No more quips.
You used to crack a joke every chance you could get. Now, it was all business and weak laughter.
Still, you try your best to keep the mask fixed back over your face, reserving quiet sobs and salty tears for moments behind closed doors. And when you left your room, you would reset.
Fake smiles. Forced laughter. Bottled-up emotions.
You, a flower that once bloomed even in the shadows, was slowly withering away.
And Bucky was terrified.
So, so terrified.
Tonight, he knocks on your door, an offering of hot chocolate in his metal hand.
“Hey Bluebird. Can I come in for a sec?”
No answer.
Bucky chews his bottom lip nervously, juggling from one foot to the other. He knocks again. “At least tell me no, I won’t be mad. I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”
No answer.
Bucky hesitantly jiggles the doorknob and is surprised when the door opens. “I’m comin’ in, okay?” he warns.
When he opens the door, you’re not there in bed, the bathroom wide open and also vacant.
He begins to panic, palm sweating, eyes darting around.
“Out here,” you call out.
Bucky’s heart slows when he sees you out on the balcony, your back to him. You’re sitting on the edge, legs dangling and hands holding onto the fence.
“What’re you doing out there?” he asks, slowly approaching. He grabs a fuzzy blanket on the way, hot drink still in one hand. “S’cold.”
You laugh bittersweetly, shaking your head while still facing the night sky. “Couldn’t sleep, but I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
He catches the crack of your voice and your shoulders tensing in shame from it.
You are not fine. You had another nightmare.
“Sweetheart, you don’t have to lie,” he murmurs softly. “Not to me.”
You look over your shoulder, offering him a smile. A fake smile. “I’m fine. Really.”
For someone so large, he feels small, helpless. He stands there and juggles his weight from one foot to the other.
“Bucky,” you call out softly. “You know you never answered my question.”
“Which one?”
“Why does everyone call me Bluebird?”
It’s a distraction, Bucky understands. Your fidgeting hands and glassy eyes tell him that the answer probably won’t mean much to you either way. He clears his throat, tracing the rim of the mug with his flesh hand. “You’ve always been high-spirited and Tony loves puns,” he laughs. “Thor always said that your giggles sounded as sweet as ‘Midgardian birdsong.’”
“That oaf,” you snort.
Bucky chuckles along. “Eventually it just became a thing and it stuck. It suits you. You always kept our hopes up.”
You should feel giddy and proud, but the thought of such high expectations drain you. The small smile on your lips drop and so does your gaze. "Really? I thought it was because I always had my head in the clouds," you joke halfheartedly, clearly hiding from him.
He shakes his head, takes another step. “Nothin’ wrong with that --”
“Buck, I’m sorry.” You hang your head and turn from him. “I don’t mean to worry you. I’m really okay. I’m fine.”
Another forced smile.
“Fine,” he repeats, approaching. He takes in your appearance, your tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. “Define fine.”
Your smile wavers. “Bucky, stop.”
“I won’t.” He breathes out a humorless chuckle. “You know how stubborn I am.” He looks down at the drink in his hands. Staring at his reflection was much easier than looking you in the eyes. He takes your silence as an opportunity. “Ever since the incident, you --”
“Bucky,” you say, anger hidden behind your warmth. When you catch yourself boiling, you soften your features. “Stop, please.”
He shakes his head. “You haven’t been yourself. You’ve got everyone else fooled, but not me. You don’t have to put on a mask, you know that, right?”
Your head drops, heart thudding and eyes brimming with tears again. “I’m not gonna break --”
“And crying or telling someone that it hurts doesn’t mean that you’ve broken.”
No answer.
He purses his lips, daring a glance back up at you only to find you staring at the city below. Tears roll down your cheeks, dripping and seeping through the cracks of the platform.
“Can I sit?” he asks.
Mind still heavy with thoughts, you scoot over to make room and he settles down beside you, placing the mug between the both of you before draping the blanket over your shoulders.
He doesn’t speak for a while.
Neither do you.
That is until his fingers brush against yours.
And a sob escapes your lips.
His touch, so soft and so full of love opens up doors in the walls that you’ve put up. He walks through them easily and doesn’t ask for anything in return. Doesn’t push or pull. He just offers himself to you.
“I’m not fine,” you choke, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “I’m scared that I’ll never find myself again.”
He gives his full attention to you, eyes glimmering in the moonlight.
How can he still look at you like this? Full of adoration? Full of worry for you?
“You’re right here,” he whispers. “You never left.”
For the first time in months, you smile wholeheartedly, lips shaking and eyes still watering -- You smile at him. “I’m just tired, Bucky.” You lean against him and he gingerly holds you.
“It takes time.”
“How long?”
“However long you need.” He sighs in content. “However long it may be, I’ll be here to support you.” Always.
"You don't have to --"
"You saved me once," he interrupts. "You saved me, made me feel at home. Made me feel safe. Maybe I can't do much, but please let me at least be there for you this time.”
Bucky Barnes sees you. Sees the real you. Offers you anything and everything all the same. For now, all you need from him is support.
A glimmer of hope that ensures the world will keep turning and you can get back up.
Wrapped in a blanket cocoon underneath dozens of stars, you feel at home again.
