Stranded - 2
✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader
✦ Word count: ~2,3 k
✦ Rating: Mature
✦ Warnings/tags: Grumpy mountain man!Bucky, don't ask me about US geography just go with it, eventual relationship/romance/smut.
✦ Summary: You leave the cabin to escape Bucky's attitude, braving the cold, but it ends up being more than you bargained for.
✦ Note: For chapter 2, you guys voted for protective!Bucky! Next poll will be up tomorrow!
Stranded is an interactive story were you the reader gets to vote on what happens in the next chapter. You're also welcome to send in suggestions on what you want to happen in future parts! Everything is tagged with #stranded series. Please take a moment to reblog this fic if you liked it! Comments and asks are always welcome ❤️
Series Masterlist
Masterlist | AO3
The gentle crackling of the wood stove should be soothing. How many times had you dreamed of escaping to a place just like this? And yet, it feels more like the relentless ticking of a clock, counting down. Never in your life have you felt so unwelcome in a place you'd been invited into.
You can hear Bucky in his room not far away, the floor creaking as he walks around, then the springs from his mattress whining as he lays down.
If your clothes dry quickly maybe you can just leave. It would probably be better to sleep in your car and freeze to death than endure spending any more time with Bucky.
The isolation feels understandable to you now. He clearly hates people. But the thing you can't wrap your head around is why he would invite you in and then be disgusted by your company. It's confusing, to say the least.
You busy yourself by making the bed. After you're done you check your clothes but they're still wet. With a sigh, you lay down and pull the covers over you. You can rest your eyes for a few minutes and then maybe the clothes will be dry enough for you to leave.
You wake abruptly to the sound of howling wind and sit up. It's dark outside the windows and quiet from the wood stove. Checking your phone, you see that a couple of hours have passed. Your clothes are probably okay now, but before you can muster the energy to leave the bed, sleep pulls you under once more.
The next time you wake it's from the sound of a door opening. You lay still, listening to Bucky move around the small room, put more logs into the stove, and then go to the kitchen. "Want some coffee?" he asks, his voice cutting through the quiet. You have no idea how he knew you were awake. "Sure," you reply, doing your best to ignore the warmth that blooms in your chest at the sound of his still-sleepy tone. Despite being an asshole, Bucky is very handsome.
As the old machine starts to gurgle and sputter, you get up and look out the window. It's still windy but no more snow than what was already on the ground yesterday, which is a relief. You wouldn't want to be snowed in with the world's biggest grump. On the other hand, people always say hate sex is good. Then you mentally slap yourself for even going there. Bucky would probably agree to touch you if you were dying. Maybe.
As you turn back around you're greeted with the sight of Bucky in the middle of the room with a big block of a phone pressed to his ear. His jeans are tight over his thighs and his henley snug over his shoulders. The scowl seems to be a permanent fixture on his face.
“It's Bucky,” he says into the phone. “Yeah, no I'm fine, do you have a truck available to pick up a stranded car down by the big road?”
The person on the other end chats away and Bucky starts pacing the room.
“No it's not for me, I said I'm fine.” The sigh that comes out of him feels like it comes from his soul. “It's for a… a friend, you could say.” He glances over at you and you shrug. Better to be called a friend than an intruder.
“Hal, I don't have time for this. Do you have a truck available or not?” You watch as his shoulders sag in defeat and you know the answer without him needing to state it. He says a short goodbye before looking over at you.
“Let me guess, no one is available to get my car?” “Not for a few days, it's a small mechanic shop and they're backed up at the moment.”
You don't dare to joke about Bucky being stuck with you for a few more days. Instead, you quickly gather your now-dry clothes and head to the bathroom to change. Hesitantly, you get rid of the warm, oversized hoodie. You fold them and put them on the counter. He's probably gonna burn them once you've left but you don't need to know that.
The cabin smells like coffee and you make yourself a cup that you sip on while tidying up the bed. Bucky hasn't offered any breakfast and you're not gonna ask. The coffee will last you to the car and you have snacks there. He sits by the table with a book and his cup, not acknowledging you.
After you've folded all the linen, you drain your cup, use the bathroom one more time since you're not sure when you'll be able to again, and then start putting on your jacket.
“Where are you going?” Bucky asks, and you look over at him. His scowl is more concerned this time, but it's not enough to change your decision. “To my car.” Bucky glances out the window. “The wind is strong.” You shrug. “I need to get out of here,” you simply say. No need to point out that he’s a terrible host. He answers with a hum.
You're about to thank him for taking you in and giving you food and clothes, but he's absorbed in his book again. So you pull your hood up and head out.
***
Yesterday, you hoped to reach your destination before dark. Now you would rather walk anywhere in the pitch black if the wind would just calm down. Despite your thick jacket and winter boots, you're freezing, but at least you made it to your car.
It looks intact and you get in to get away from the wind. Despite knowing nothing will happen you try the ignition again but the car is still dead. All the way there you fantasized about it magically turning on and you driving out of there, warm and towards a place you'd be welcome.
With numb fingers, you unlock your phone but there is still no signal. Yesterday you decided that walking towards town wasn’t an option, but now it’s the only one you have. And if the opportunity presents itself you’ll be brave and stick out your thumb.
As you stuff more things into your backpack you wonder if this is one of the times where your stubbornness is getting the better of you. Then again, you are socially intelligent enough to know when you're not wanted. You're not sure why your thoughts keep returning to Bucky since you’ve known him for less than 24 hours. And known is to word it strongly. Barely interacted with is more like it.
You close the trunk of your car with a bang and start walking. Maybe the annoyance at yourself will keep you warm because the wind has not gotten any warmer. The road is as deserted as when you first got stranded. You try to keep a lookout for cars but you constantly have to put your head down as you walk forward.
Time passes but you're not sure how long you've walked or how far you've gotten. If you turn around and you can still see your car, you're gonna lay down and just die, because it feels like you've been walking for hours. The snacks you had in the car weren't nearly enough and you're starting to get hungry. What you wouldn't give for a taste of Bucky’s hot soup.
You feel like you're in a cartoon, thought bubbles with his name and face popping up above your head constantly and you want to wave them away. But you're so cold, tired, and hungry. The ground at the side of the road sure is looking inviting for a nap.
Despite better judgment, you stop. Your legs ache and feel like jelly. Tears burn your eyes because you're mad at yourself for being so stubborn. And mad at Bucky for being an asshole.
You have to keep walking. It's the only way. But you don't want to. You want to sit down.
The ground is cold and hard, but also somehow soft. Soft enough to want to lie down. You can just rest your eyes for a few minutes then you'll get back up and walk again.
A deep sigh escapes you as your body relaxes into the hard surface and suddenly you start to feel warm again.
***
It isn’t like Bucky cares where you are. At least that's what he tells himself. You said you were going to your car, he thought to get something. He could have driven you but he just wanted to start his day slow and have his coffee before running out.
Since you aren't back, he assumes you got the car going.
The sat phone goes off and startles him as he sits deep in thought.
“Hey, it's Hal! I managed to get a tow for your friend's car, I have it by the shop but it's gonna be a few days until we can get to it, is that alright?”
“She isn't with you?” Bucky asks and deep lines form between his eyebrows.
“Eh, no, the car was empty. Wait, did you have a—”
Whatever Hal is about to say gets cut off as Bucky hangs up. You weren't by the car, but you're still not back. So where are you?
A tinge of panic rises in Bucky's chest, a feeling he refuses to analyze more at this moment. He heads for the door, unsure what he's gonna do, but he needs to go out and look for you.
“I’m so fucking stupid,” he tells himself as he starts his car. “She's found someone to catch a ride with. She doesn't want you to look for her. She doesn't care about you, so why should you care about her?”
But still, he drives slowly so as not to miss anything.
***
The sound of a car door slamming shut starts you awake. Fuck, you missed an opportunity to hitch a ride, is all you can think, and you try to sit up, open your eyes, and speak but your body is slow and sluggish. Then you hear a familiar voice. “What the fuck are you doing?”
In the next moment, you feel yourself being lifted. With great effort you manage to open your eyes and see the one man you'd hoped never to run into again. He places you in his truck, buckling you into the seat, before rounding it and getting in, not saying a word before turning on the empty road and heading back the way you came.
“No,” you press out hoarsely. “What were you doing?! Trying to walk to the nearest town?!” “Mmhm,” you answer and lean your head back. You're still tired and hungry, but the car is pleasantly warm. “How can you be so stupid? It's a two-hour drive!” You want to answer that you couldn't stay but all the energy has left your body so you just shrug.
It feels like you're back at the cabin in no time, as if you didn't make any headway on your walk at all.
Bucky reaches over to unbuckle you and carries you up to the cabin, putting you on the floor in front of the wood stove.
As he's putting more logs into the stove your head starts to spin, and a second later you’re lying on your side, having tipped over from the vertigo. “For fuck's sake!” Bucky growls. “Dizzy,” you manage to croak. “Just lay there until I've warmed up some soup,” he says and walks away. The heat from the fire makes sweat form on your brow, still bundled as you are in your thick jacket. You fumble to take it off, but your fingers won't cooperate. In record time, Bucky has a bowl of yesterday's soup on the floor next to you, and you've managed to get the zipper down a few inches.
With surprising care, far more than you expect, he gently helps you sit up and unzips your jacket, then assists with your boots as well. As he grabs your hand you can feel the stark difference between your cold fingers and his warm skin. No wonder you couldn't move the zipper.
After, he scooches in behind you so that his legs bracket your body, keeping you upright, before picking up the bowl and holding it in front of you. “I'm not feeding you, just be careful,” his grumpy voice says.
The spoon shakes as you pick it up, you lean forward at the same time to not spill anything. It's slow but it works. Feeling returns to your fingers, making them tingle and hurt. The food tastes amazing, but that's maybe because you're famished. It takes some time to finish the bowl, but once you do, you feel pleasantly full. There's a light, almost drunken sensation from how good you feel—warm, cared for, and nestled between the legs of a handsome man. All you have to do is overlook the minor detail that he happens to despise you. Why would he come and get you? You don't understand. Maybe he was headed somewhere else and happened to see you. But then again, why stop? You don’t mean anything to him.
“Why'd you stop?” you find yourself asking. The flames dance in front of you and you resist the urge to lean back into Bucky. There is no answer, just like you expect, and maybe that’s for the better.
Despite it still being early evening, you sigh and say, "I'm tired," as you push yourself up. Heading toward the couch, you sway on your feet, but Bucky is right behind you. It isn't until you're halfway there that you realize he's gently steering you toward his bedroom instead.
Too tired to question or analyze the situation, you head straight to bed. Your last thought is that you aren’t dying, but Bucky still touched you willingly.
