Off the Tracks 4
Warning: age gap, gaslighting, manipulation, dark elements….
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: Bucky Barnes (short!reader)
Summary: You meet a man who makes you realise your life isn’t exactly what you thought. Based on this.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
Your nerves are fried. You can’t stop squirming. Your mind is racing. You retrace every word, every single thing you did that day. Oh why can’t Kirstie just tell you what you’re doing wrong?
You can feel your manager’s derision roiling off of her. It pools in your stomach like bile and boils. Self-awareness tempers your every thought, your every move. You’re doing it wrong, you just know it!
If you lose this job, your parents will be so disappointed. So will you. You just want to do well but how can you when no one tells you what you’re missing?
And she didn’t like the skirt. Of course she didn’t. It’s juvenile. Cherry blossoms? It must make you seem like even more of a child. You’ll ask your sister if she has something you can borrow for tomorrow; if you get home before she’s asleep.
You frown as you get off the subway and run to the second platform. You heard the last train depart and the sign assures your worst fear; ‘departed 2 mins ago’. Great!
None of this is working out and you can’t help but blame yourself. Grow a backbone. Ask Kirstie if you can skip lunch so you can leave early. It’s not like she lets you go on break anyway.
You pout and look around. You’ll find somewhere to tuck into your book until the next train comes. Or maybe you can find a different connection. You could probably take a train to a midway point then switch over… or a bus. That would take a bit longer but still better than the late train.
“Too bad,” Bucky’s voice startles you before you can find a bench.
You turn to him and wipe away your chagrin. “Oh, hi. You’re back.”
“And you missed your train.”
“Um, yeah. I… I’ll get the next one.” The glumness sticks in your voice despite your efforts.
“Not too fun after a hard day’s work.” He clucks. “You thinking of moving closer? Or to the city?”
“Hm. Maybe. But it’ll be a while before I can afford to. If ever.” You shrug.
“Right. Makes sense.” He accepts. “Well, I guess the important thing is you’re trying. Got a good job. You show up.”
“Hm, doesn’t feel good enough…” you mumble then sniff and shake your head. “I… It doesn’t matter. It’s whatever.”
He looks you over and his cheek dimples as he thinks. “Something bringing you down? Or someone?”
You scoff. “It’s really not your problem. Or a problem at all. I know you must have bigger things to worry about.”
“I’ll make it my problem.” He insists. “What’s up?”
Your phone jitters before you can deflect him again. You reach for it and smile sheepishly. “Sorry, one sec.”
You check the notification. By the first few words of your mom’s text, you know it’s not good. You’ll deal with that later.
“Is that the problem?” He points to your phone as you put it back in your pocket.
You rock and look away. “It’s just… me. That’s all.”
“I know you’re not a liar but you shouldn’t do that. Keep all that inside and you'll boil over.” He girds. He subtly motions you over to the bench. He waits for you to sit before doing the same. “So, who's texting up a storm? Boy troubles?”
You scoff. Then snort. You roll your eyes and stare across the platform.
“My mom. She's just… very concerned, I guess. I've barely been working a week and… I don't know.” You pout.
“You said you live with her?”
You nod. “Her and dad. And my sister.”
“Can get a bit stir crazy when you're all crowded in.” He says as he leans his elbows on his knees, trying to look you in the face. “Trust me. I've been stacked in steamers like a sardine with a hundred other soldiers, shared a foxhole with men who can't stop kicking my shins…”
“You're right. It could be worse,” you drop your shoulders.
“That's not what I'm saying. I'm… empathising.” He leans over and pushes on your arm with his.
“Yeah, well…” you trail off and shake your head again, trying to shed your self-pity.
You look down as your phone lights up again. It's your mom. She's calling.
“Sorry. Excuse me.”
You wiggle your phone awkwardly then stand. You traipse away from Bucky and answer the call. You keep your back to him and brace yourself.
“Are you on the train?” She asks. “I'm on Life 360. It says you're at the station.”
“I… I missed it.” You admit.
“Again?”
“Mom, I'll get the garbage out–”
“You're not going to get very far if you can't be on time. I sure hope you're not this late for work every morning–”
“No. It's just the way home–”
“You need to figure it out. You need to start pulling your own weight around here. Maybe help with dinner and no one's going to wait till nine to eat.” She snips.
“I know. I'm sorry–”
“The least you can do is lend a hand. Me and your dad have been very lenient. We let you stay here and study.” She tuts.
“I'm working on it, mom.” You insist.
“One day you'll realise the world isn't going to wait on you.” She huffs. “I'll see you when you get home. If I'm awake.”
She hangs up before you can say anything else. No matter what, you're always wrong. You got a diploma. Not enough. You got a job. Not enough.
You put your phone in your pocket and sigh. You drag your hands down your cheeks and sink down. Your name startles you as Bucky nears, gently touching your sleeve.
“Everything okay?” He asks. Again.
“It's fine. My mom is just… disappointed.” Again.
“Ah. Well, you know, trains are never on time. Always too early or too late.” He chuckles. “But you'll get where you're going.”
You nod and sway.
“Don't let me keep you. Please. I'll just wait until the next–”
“Maybe I wanna be here.” He interjects. “Maybe I got nothing better to do.”
“Uh huh.” You sniff. “You don't have to lie.”
“I'm not.” He nudges your arm playfully. “How about another meatball sub?”
“I should stay… wait for the train.”
“You got at least two hours. Get a small sandwich…” he coaxes.
You chew your lip as you look at him. “Why are you being so nice?”
He arches a brow and his cheeks dimple. “I see. My reputation precedes me.”
You laugh and shake your head. “No, it's just… I don't know.”
“Got you,” he softly swipes a fingertip along your chin.
“What?” Your eyes widen and your face falls.
“You smiled.” He preens.
“Oh…uh.” You smile again, this time you can't hold it back. “Yeah…”
“Come on. You had a long day. You needa eat.” He says.
You exhale. “Twist my arm.”
“I don’t wanna, but if I have to…” he winks.
“Maybe I’ll try something else though. How’s the teriyaki?” You ask.
“Never tried it but you got me intrigued,” he grins.
🚃
The chicken is good. You're contentedly full when you finish the half-sub. Bucky has a much bigger appetite than yours.
He wipes his metal fingertips with a napkin and pulls his glove back on. He flinches and feels around his jacket hanging on the back of his chair. He swipes his tongue behind his lips and gives a tight smile.
“Sorry,” he pulls out his phone. “Ugh, work. Hold tight.”
He gets up and crosses the shop. He puts the phone to his ear as he pushes through the door. “Update?”
The door jingles shut behind him and you watch him through the windows. His jaw is squared and his forehead rippled as he listens intently. He rubs the stubble along his chin and nods. His lips move but you can’t make out the words. You shouldn’t try. It’s none of your business.
You look down and crumple up the wrapper in front of you. The teriyaki lingers on your tongue. You chew the inside of your cheek as you mull over the train ride still ahead of you. You just want to lay down and sleep but each night, you seem to get less and less.
The bell chimes again. Bucky clears his throat as he approaches and picks up his jacket. “All done?” He asks.
“Uh huh.” You push your chair back and stand. He holds out his hand. You hesitate.
“Garbage.” He curls and opens his fingers as he swipes up his own with his other hand.
“Oh, uh, thanks.” You hand over the wrapper.
He goes to dump it in the trash as you gather up your bag and jacket. You follow him to the door and he holds it open for you. You pass through as he stays close.
You start down the street and he shifts around you as another pedestrian marches down the other direction. He inserts himself between you and the other lane of foot traffic, penning you against the building faces. He growls at the passerby with the dragging gait.
You catch a yawn in your hands then press your palms together. You drop your arms as you twine your fingers through each other and trod along. He stays close as the streetlights flick on one by one.
“So, you work at a condo place? You move anything yet?”
“Um, no. Krista signs the leases. I’m still training.”
“That’s always the awkward part but everyone’s gotta do it. When I signed up for basic training, I nearly drowned in some mud.” He chortles.
“Really?”
“Well, sure. You’re not crawling through sh– muck every day. Well, not until you sign up for it.”
“Yeah, I guess.” You nod glumly.
“Eh, sorry, I don’t mean to bring down the mood. Tell me about one of your princesses.” He prompts as you reach the entrance of the subway.
“Well… I don’t know…”
“Tell me about a happy princess.”
“Hm. Those aren’t real.” You frown. “I like the tragic ones, mostly. Queens, too.”
“Fine, tell me about one of them.”
“Hm. Well, there’s a really sad one. Sophia Dorothea. She was married to George I but cheated on him. She was exiled, not even allowed to see her kids. But each time she heard they were in the same city, she’d dress up in case she was allowed to visit… that never happened.” You hum. “Yeah, not very happy.”
“History tends to repeat itself, at least in that sense. Good with the bad and all.” He agrees.
“Yeah, but I guess… there’s happier ones I could read about. Maybe.”
“Maybe,” he agrees lightly. “In my day, not to sound like an old man, there was Wallis Simpson. That was a big scandal.”
“Oh yeah! Yeah. She’s the one Edward stepped down for.”
“That’s the one. Must be a special woman if she’s worth all that. Any man should be as lucky.” He scoffs.
“I guess.” You utter as you weave through the station.
You reach the platform and check the time on your phone. It’ll be another hour at least. Bucky jostles you slightly. “Uh oh.”
You look up and blink. You follow his gaze to the departures screen. The late train is highlighted in red. ‘Technical Issues - Cancelled’. Your mouth falls open.
“Huh? How can… how can they cancel it?” You babble.
“I have no idea. That’s odd.” He says and shifts his weight in his shoes.
“How… what…” you can’t get the dozen questions out of your brain as they all jumble together.
“Well, that’s too bad.” He clucks. “I don’t think you’ll be making it home tonight.”
“I know,” you hook your hands around your neck anxiously. “But… what am I going to do?”
“Woah, doll. All good. Why don’t you crash at my place?” He asks.
You look at him and furrow your brow. “What?”
“Sure. It’s not too far and you won’t bother me. Be easier for you to get to work too.”
“But… but…” you look around helplessly. What other choice do you have?
“I got laundry in my place. You can toss your clothes in.” He offers. “Come on, we can make it work.”
“But… but…” You chant again.
“Hey, it’s why I do. Save people, right?”
