“Hi Sheriff” Ivy spoke softly as she walked into the sheriff’s office. She leaned against his desk slightly, twirling her hair around her finger. “I’ve got a little problem that I need help with, if you don’t mind”
“Ivy, good to see you again.”
Bucky turns around in his swivel chair to face her.
“Nothing I can’t solve, I’m sure. Tell me what’s goin’ on.”
Ivy gives a small smile as he speaks. “It’s just…there’s this guy at the saloon. He keeps…bothering me.” She spoke softly, fiddling with her fingers now.
Bucky stands up and pats his hip to make sure his pistol is in his holster. He probably wouldn’t need it, but he liked to be as intimidating as possible.
“Is he there now? I’ll have a talk with him.”
“Talk” was more than likely a euphemism, but he didn’t want to scare Ivy.
Ivy’s eyes followed him as he stood up, watching him pat his hip. She furrowed her brows, nodding slightly. “Yeah I was just over there tryin’ to get a drink and he came up to me, bein’ all touchy”
“Alright, doll, let’s go give that snake a piece of my mind.”
Bucky grabbed Ivy’s hand as they walked out of the station and down the dusty street. They reach the saloon and Bucky pushes through the swinging doors so hard that they swing all the way to hit the walls. The saloon falls silent and everyone turns their heads to see a seemingly calm and collected sheriff, but on the inside, he’s fuming.
“Doll,” Bucky says quietly to Ivy, “which one is he?”
Ivy felt Bucky grab her hand and widened her eyes slightly. She didn’t question it, just followed him into the saloon. She heard the loud noise of the doors hitting the wall, jumping slightly. Her eyes scanned the saloon for the guy. “Him..” She said, pointing to a blonde guy alone at the bar, clearly drunk.
Bucky locks his hardened stare at the blonde son of a bitch who looks about three seconds away from drunkenly falling off the barstool. The sheriff saunters over and each step thunders through the still silent bar.
“I heard you need a reminder of how to keep yer hands to yerself.”
The man raises his hands in mock surrender and replies, “Hey man, I don’t know what that bitch told you, but she’s ly-”
Bucky’s metal fist collided with the man’s cheek before he could finish.
“If I ever hear ‘bout you layin’ so much as a finger on her,” he points to Ivy, “or anyone else in this town, let alone call them a bitch, I will make sure you never set foot in this town ever again. Am I makin’ myself clear? And for the record, I ain’t your man; I’m your sheriff.”
The man cradles his face and whimpers out a “yes, sheriff.”
Bucky walks back to Ivy and places his hand on the small of her back to lead her out of the saloon.
Ivy watches as Bucky walks over to the man, saying something. She could vaguely hear what he was saying. Then Bucky punched the guy. She widened her eyes slightly, struggling to contain her laughter. He deserved that.
She saw him coming back over, feeling his hand on her back. “Yeah…I’m all good sir” She spoke softly, turning her head to look back at the guy who was now cradling his face.
“Hi Sheriff” Ivy spoke softly as she walked into the sheriff’s office. She leaned against his desk slightly, twirling her hair around her finger. “I’ve got a little problem that I need help with, if you don’t mind”
“Ivy, good to see you again.”
Bucky turns around in his swivel chair to face her.
“Nothing I can’t solve, I’m sure. Tell me what’s goin’ on.”
Ivy gives a small smile as he speaks. “It’s just…there’s this guy at the saloon. He keeps…bothering me.” She spoke softly, fiddling with her fingers now.
Bucky stands up and pats his hip to make sure his pistol is in his holster. He probably wouldn’t need it, but he liked to be as intimidating as possible.
“Is he there now? I’ll have a talk with him.”
“Talk” was more than likely a euphemism, but he didn’t want to scare Ivy.
Ivy’s eyes followed him as he stood up, watching him pat his hip. She furrowed her brows, nodding slightly. “Yeah I was just over there tryin’ to get a drink and he came up to me, bein’ all touchy”
“Alright, doll, let’s go give that snake a piece of my mind.”
Bucky grabbed Ivy’s hand as they walked out of the station and down the dusty street. They reach the saloon and Bucky pushes through the swinging doors so hard that they swing all the way to hit the walls. The saloon falls silent and everyone turns their heads to see a seemingly calm and collected sheriff, but on the inside, he’s fuming.
“Doll,” Bucky says quietly to Ivy, “which one is he?”
Ivy felt Bucky grab her hand and widened her eyes slightly. She didn’t question it, just followed him into the saloon. She heard the loud noise of the doors hitting the wall, jumping slightly. Her eyes scanned the saloon for the guy. “Him..” She said, pointing to a blonde guy alone at the bar, clearly drunk.
Bucky locks his hardened stare at the blonde son of a bitch who looks about three seconds away from drunkenly falling off the barstool. The sheriff saunters over and each step thunders through the still silent bar.
“I heard you need a reminder of how to keep yer hands to yerself.”
The man raises his hands in mock surrender and replies, “Hey man, I don’t know what that bitch told you, but she’s ly-”
Bucky’s metal fist collided with the man’s cheek before he could finish.
“If I ever hear ‘bout you layin’ so much as a finger on her,” he points to Ivy, “or anyone else in this town, let alone call them a bitch, I will make sure you never set foot in this town ever again. Am I makin’ myself clear? And for the record, I ain’t your man; I’m your sheriff.”
The man cradles his face and whimpers out a “yes, sheriff.”
Bucky walks back to Ivy and places his hand on the small of her back to lead her out of the saloon.
Ivy watches as Bucky walks over to the man, saying something. She could vaguely hear what he was saying. Then Bucky punched the guy. She widened her eyes slightly, struggling to contain her laughter. He deserved that.
She saw him coming back over, feeling his hand on her back. “Yeah…I’m all good sir” She spoke softly, turning her head to look back at the guy who was now cradling his face.
“Hi Sheriff” Ivy spoke softly as she walked into the sheriff’s office. She leaned against his desk slightly, twirling her hair around her finger. “I’ve got a little problem that I need help with, if you don’t mind”
“Ivy, good to see you again.”
Bucky turns around in his swivel chair to face her.
“Nothing I can’t solve, I’m sure. Tell me what’s goin’ on.”
Ivy gives a small smile as he speaks. “It’s just…there’s this guy at the saloon. He keeps…bothering me.” She spoke softly, fiddling with her fingers now.
Bucky stands up and pats his hip to make sure his pistol is in his holster. He probably wouldn’t need it, but he liked to be as intimidating as possible.
“Is he there now? I’ll have a talk with him.”
“Talk” was more than likely a euphemism, but he didn’t want to scare Ivy.
Ivy’s eyes followed him as he stood up, watching him pat his hip. She furrowed her brows, nodding slightly. “Yeah I was just over there tryin’ to get a drink and he came up to me, bein’ all touchy”
“Alright, doll, let’s go give that snake a piece of my mind.”
Bucky grabbed Ivy’s hand as they walked out of the station and down the dusty street. They reach the saloon and Bucky pushes through the swinging doors so hard that they swing all the way to hit the walls. The saloon falls silent and everyone turns their heads to see a seemingly calm and collected sheriff, but on the inside, he’s fuming.
“Doll,” Bucky says quietly to Ivy, “which one is he?”
Ivy felt Bucky grab her hand and widened her eyes slightly. She didn’t question it, just followed him into the saloon. She heard the loud noise of the doors hitting the wall, jumping slightly. Her eyes scanned the saloon for the guy. “Him..” She said, pointing to a blonde guy alone at the bar, clearly drunk.
“Hi Sheriff” Ivy spoke softly as she walked into the sheriff’s office. She leaned against his desk slightly, twirling her hair around her finger. “I’ve got a little problem that I need help with, if you don’t mind”
“Ivy, good to see you again.”
Bucky turns around in his swivel chair to face her.
“Nothing I can’t solve, I’m sure. Tell me what’s goin’ on.”
Ivy gives a small smile as he speaks. “It’s just…there’s this guy at the saloon. He keeps…bothering me.” She spoke softly, fiddling with her fingers now.
Bucky stands up and pats his hip to make sure his pistol is in his holster. He probably wouldn’t need it, but he liked to be as intimidating as possible.
“Is he there now? I’ll have a talk with him.”
“Talk” was more than likely a euphemism, but he didn’t want to scare Ivy.
Ivy’s eyes followed him as he stood up, watching him pat his hip. She furrowed her brows, nodding slightly. “Yeah I was just over there tryin’ to get a drink and he came up to me, bein’ all touchy”
“Hi Sheriff” Ivy spoke softly as she walked into the sheriff’s office. She leaned against his desk slightly, twirling her hair around her finger. “I’ve got a little problem that I need help with, if you don’t mind”
“Ivy, good to see you again.”
Bucky turns around in his swivel chair to face her.
“Nothing I can’t solve, I’m sure. Tell me what’s goin’ on.”
Ivy gives a small smile as he speaks. “It’s just…there’s this guy at the saloon. He keeps…bothering me.” She spoke softly, fiddling with her fingers now.
Bucky stands up and pats his hip to make sure his pistol is in his holster. He probably wouldn’t need it, but he liked to be as intimidating as possible.
“Is he there now? I’ll have a talk with him.”
“Talk” was more than likely a euphemism, but he didn’t want to scare Ivy.
Ivy’s eyes followed him as he stood up, watching him pat his hip. She furrowed her brows, nodding slightly. “Yeah I was just over there tryin’ to get a drink and he came up to me, bein’ all touchy”
“Hi Sheriff” Ivy spoke softly as she walked into the sheriff’s office. She leaned against his desk slightly, twirling her hair around her finger. “I’ve got a little problem that I need help with, if you don’t mind”
“Ivy, good to see you again.”
Bucky turns around in his swivel chair to face her.
“Nothing I can’t solve, I’m sure. Tell me what’s goin’ on.”
Ivy gives a small smile as he speaks. “It’s just…there’s this guy at the saloon. He keeps…bothering me.” She spoke softly, fiddling with her fingers now.
visual is for vibes only, reader’s appearance is nondescript!
pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader
summary: Bucky turns into a clutz when he realises he’s not the only one with eyes for the 107th’s new nurse
warnings: mentions of minor injuries
word count: 2.4k
a/n: an absolute cliche but i finally watched thunderbolts* and have fallen back into a marvel phase!! enjoy
The first time it happened, it was an accident.
Bucky had been stationed at his post for almost four months and he always, made sure to avoid an injury.
Of course, you might say that any sane man would but everyone in the 107th knew the nurses were a total nightmare, even if your leg was hanging off.
They’re weren’t motherly, nor sweet. Just mean, worn-out old women who’d patched up more men than they could count and didn’t have an ounce of sympathy left in them.
The boys joked that you came out of the nurse’s tent worse than you came in.
So, when Bucky took a fist to the face during a scuffle with one of the guys, he went in expecting a scolding, a rag soaked in antiseptic that burnt like hell and a half-hour long guilt trip about wasting supplies.
He was dreading it.
Until he saw you.
You couldn’t have been more than twenty-three. Fresh out of nursing school and too clean for a place like this. Hell, this was probably your first posting.
Your hands were gloved and steady, but your voice was soft and crisp like a toffee apple, as you tended to one of the men in the beds.
He was missing a good portion of his leg but you were smiling and laughing as you spoke to him like all was well.
It was shocking to see you so attentive to what Bucky knew was a pretty grim sight. The other nurses wouldn’t have been so kind about it, that was sure.
Bucky blinked.
You gave a gentle squeeze to the man’s forearm, before getting up from his side.
As you walked back to your station, your eyes met Bucky and your lips parted softly, “Oh! Hello there, I didn’t see you. Are you alright?”
Bucky had been caught staring.
He cleared his throat, laughing awkwardly as he gestured to his shining bruise around his eye, “Uh, yeah, hi, sorry, I needed some help.”
You clicked your tongue softly, walking over. You cupped his face, looking it over with a small sigh, “Nothing much we can do for a black eye, but we’ll get some ice on it.”
Then, with a gentle nudge to his arm, you added, “Come sit.”
Bucky obeyed without thinking, sinking down into the nearest cot.
He watched you move around the tent with practised precision, your apron was stained from the last guy but your sleeves were still white and clean.
Your hair was pinned up and curled, like most of the girls he knew back home, and your nails were painted a beautiful baby pink.
That was a luxury.
Which meant one of two things: either you had no one waiting back home and liked to treat yourself or you had a husband somewhere footing the bill.
You were pretty, really pretty. He hoped it wasn’t the latter.
You weren’t wearing a ring - most of the other nurses wore them on string around their necks, but you didn’t have one anywhere he could see. That was a good sign.
Just then, you returned to his side, a bundle of ice wrapped in cloth in your hands.
“Close your eyes for me,” you said softly, pressing it against his cheek.
He shut his eyes, rolling his shoulders as he tried to settle himself. He was suddenly all too aware of your eyes on him.
“How’d you do this anyhow?”
He cracked one eye open to look at you, the corner of his mouth twitching, “Would you believe me if I said I tripped over a rock?”
You raised a brow, letting out an amused snort, “I would not, no.”
Bucky chuckled, “Yeah, didn’t think so.”
He let out a breath and leaned back against the cot frame. You gently adjusted the ice on his cheek as he added, “Got into it with one of the guys. Things got… not so friendly.”
“Hmm,” you hummed, reaching for some gauze to dab at the scrape above his eyebrow, “And who started it?”
He hesitated.
“…Probably him.”
You laughed and it lit him up from the inside out. Your presence had a warmth he knew better than to depend on, and yet, he could already feel himself doing so.
“Well,” you mused, cupping his face and giving the cut one last swipe, “next time, try to keep your face out of the way, would you?”
He smirked, “Can’t make any promises, doll.”
You sat back, amused, tossing the bloody cotton pad into the bin, “Why am I not surprised?”
You reached for the ice again, then pressed it lightly to his eye. With your other hand, you took his and guided it into place, “Hold this for me…”
Your eyes flicked down to the name stitched into his uniform, “Sergeant Barnes.”
His heart did something stupid at the way you said it - a giddy grin spreading over his face before he could stop it.
“Yes, ma’am. And you?” he asked hurriedly, eyebrows raised, “I mean, do I, uh… get to know your name?”
You smiled to yourself as you scribbled something down on your clipboard, “Lieutenant Y/N L/N.”
His brows shot up, “Lieutenant?”
“It’s standard rank for nurses,” you said with a small laugh, setting the clipboard down again.
“Really?” Bucky leaned back with a whistle, “I should’ve gone into nursing.”
“Mhm,” you smiled coyly, standing up again, “Alright, Sergeant. Hang tight and let me know when you’re feeling alright to head back out.”
“I will, doll,” he promised, grinning as he settled back into the cot.
You only shook your head with a faint smile before heading off to check on your other patients.
Bucky stayed that way - nursing his injury and watching you go about your business for an hour or so. And the longer he stayed, the more smitten he became.
He’d known you not even a day and he could already see what a sweet soul you were.
And when he finally stepped out of the nurse’s tent later that evening, it was clear he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.
Camp was buzzing. Word had spread fast of a new nurse on base, kind and pretty in a way that none of the 107th’s soldiers had seen in a long time.
A strangely possessive shiver ran down Bucky’s spine.
He’d have to do something about that chatter.
Sooner, rather than later.
The next morning had started out quiet.
There were drills, same as always but something quickly caught Bucky’s attention.
Injuries. A lot of them. And they were springing up out of nowhere.
They were running laps when Miller suddenly rolled his ankle.
During push-ups, Jones, who was notorious for doing a hundred without breaking a sweat, collapsed face-first into the dirt and split his chin.
By lunch, it was Simmons’ turn.
In the middle of the dining hall, he tripped over a bench with Oscar-worthy theatrics, clutching his arm like it had been torn clean from the socket.
“Doc!” he shouted, gritting his teeth like he was about to lose the limb, “I think I’ve broken it… it’s real bad.”
Bucky looked up from his seat on a crate, narrowing his eyes.
Simmons was a lot of things: loud, clumsy, a bit of a show-off and, it turned out, a terrible actor. He hadn’t started clutching his arm until he’d spotted someone watching from the medical tent.
You.
Nonetheless, you emerged from the flap a moment later, brows furrowed with concern.
“Alright, Sergeant,” you gushed, hurrying over to meet Simmons halfway, “That looks pretty painful, let’s get you looked at. Come on.”
Bucky watched as the guy practically melted under your touch, slinging himself over your front with dramatic flair.
You didn’t flinch, just steadied him and nodded along as he rattled off a long, unruly list of symptoms that weren’t even half-true.
Bucky’s jaw tightened.
“You alright there, Buck?” Steve asked, catching his scowl, “You’re crushing that spoon.”
Bucky looked down. The handle was bent right in half between his fingers.
“Damn,” Bucky muttered, tossing it aside. Those things were useless, made of tin anyways.
Steve raised a brow, following his line of sight. Then, slowly, a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Oh,” he said, drawing the word out as he nodded, “I get it.”
Bucky didn’t answer. He just stood up, brushing the dirt from his pants.
It was time he found himself another bruise. Something small. Believable.
But enough to earn himself another few minutes in that tent, with you.
Before someone like Simmons beat him to it.
He quickly devised a plan, ruling out anything that would get him sent home. That meant minor injuries only.
After lunch, the boys were always ordered to clean up their gear. After all, taking care of your weapon was half the job and pride of being a soldier.
With bayonets on the end of their guns, it was almost too easy for him to injure himself.
Bucky joined in like normal, bantering with the other guys as he polished his gun. Then, with one theatrically clumsy swipe, he managed to slice open the palm of his hand.
He let out a low hiss, glancing down at it like he hadn’t just pressed his palm a little harder into the blade on purpose seconds ago.
It stung like hell, much more than he’d anticipated.
It was perfect.
Wrapping the wound in a makeshift bandage, he made a beeline for the medical tent, already rehearsing the look he’d have on his face: sheepish, stoic but brave.
The kind of look that made women swoon.
Bucky pushed through the tent’s flap, hand held up carefully, as if it were a trophy of his misfortune.
You were knelt down beside a cabinet of medicines, quietly counting stock. You would intermittently mark something down on the clipboard that seemed permanently attached to your hands, as the other nurses worked around you.
Bucky cleared his throat, rocking back on his heels to look casual.
You looked up at the sound, a dry smile tugging at your lips, “Sergeant Barnes? Back so soon?”
He held out his bleeding palm to you, “Afraid so, ma’am.”
“Looks fresh,” you hummed, tracing the edges of the cut, “How’d you do this one?”
“Bayonet slipped while I was cleanin’ her,” he admitted gruffly, running his good hand through his hair.
You tutted softly, “Come sit down, Sergeant. You’re beginning to gather quite the collection of little injuries, you ought to take better care of yourself.”
Bucky laughed, sliding into the cot, just as he had done yesterday, “No idea what you mean, Lieutenant.”
“Mhm,” you replied, clearly not convinced. Pressing a cloth into his palm, you applied a gentle pressure to stop the bleeding.
You were silent for a moment, holding the cloth firmly against his palm before giving him a knowing look, voice soft but teasing, “I have a feeling this wasn’t an accident.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“Need me to send a welfare check on you? Make sure you’re holding up alright?” you added jokingly with a sly smile.
He chuckled, shaking his head, “No need, Lieutenant. I got it.”
“Good,” you hummed, tapping his wrist gently as you let it go. You rolled across the floor on your stool and tore open a fresh dressing.
“If you’re trying to get my attention, you’ve already done it,” you said simply, applying the dressing to his palm.
Bucky’s heart soared.
“That gift you left me this morning was more than enough to do so.”
And then it plummeted right back down.
“Gift? I didn’t leave you any gift, doll.” Bucky blinked, caught slightly off guard.
“You didn’t?” a smirk crept across your face as you smoothed the corners of the dressing on his hand.
“Huh. Well, then it seems like you have some competition, Sarge.” you nodded towards a collection of wildflowers sitting atop one of the cabinets in a thin vase.
Bucky had nearly screamed.
He didn’t, at least not out loud.
But inside? He was fuming.
Wildflowers. A whole damn bouquet of them. Where’d that idiot even find wildflowers out here? It wasn’t like they were growing beside the mess hall. Someone had gone looking. That meant planning. That meant intention.
It meant competition.
The idea that you could be smiling at someone else the way you smiled at him, come next week, lit a fire under his skin that burned well into the night.
By morning, he was running on no sleep and pure resolve. He’d fake one more injury. Nothing major. Just enough to get him back into your orbit.
So when the transport trucks rolled in with the weekly supplies at 11, Bucky seized the opportunity.
He picked up a heavy crate, made a show of wobbling under its weight and then let it drop directly onto the arch of his boot.
He dropped to the ground with a perfectly-timed curse, clutching his ankle.
“Jesus, Buck… you alright?” Steve asked, looking over him anxiously.
Despite the throbbing pain developing in his ankle, all Bucky could do was nod through gritted teeth, “Yeah, I’m all good, no problem.”
“I better head to the med tent though, just to be on the safe side of things.”
He was up before anyone could question it.
As he pulled back the tent’s curtain, you looked up from the supplies you were sorting, already smirking, “Again?”
He winced, “Crate jumped me.”
“Uh-huh,” you smiled, setting your pen down and already on your feet, “Let’s get that boot off, Sergeant.”
Bucky shuffled toward the cot like a wounded hero, groaning for good measure, “You’re starting to recognise my footsteps, huh?”
“I’m starting to wonder if you’re doing this for attention,” you teased, crouching down and unlacing his boot for him to examine his red, swollen ankle.
“Would it be a crime if I was?”
You wrapped some ice up and pressed it against the bruising skin, “That depends. Attention from me or from the other nurses?”
He didn’t even hesitate, “Just you.”
Your hands paused for a moment on his ankle.
“Alright then,” you said quietly, voice growing shy, “I think I can forgive you this once.”
A slow smile spread across Bucky’s face, “You know,” he said, sitting up straighter as he watched you work, “all jokes aside, I‘ve been wondering…”
You raised an eyebrow, watching him carefully.
“If I promised not to fake any more injuries,” he continued, “would you let me take you to dinner sometime? After the war, of course.”
You blinked, surprised, then smiled, that warm smile he was already falling for.
“I’d like that very much, Sergeant Barnes.”
He felt like he was walking on air as you carefully wrapped his ankle up, “You would?”
“Mhm,” you said, patting his calf and smiling coyly, “Just keep looking out for this country and you’ll find a date waiting for you when you come home, Sergeant.”
Summary: You got a little too drunk while out and Bucky brings you back to his apartment. What happens when you confess your feelings to him?
WC: 911
Tags/Warnings: Lots of Fluff, alcohol
A/N: This is my first “official” imagine on tumblr, I’ve written many before though. (Just haven’t posted them.) Please be kind, I feel like my wording and how I describe things kind of sucks. I just wanted a cute, short imagine of caregiver Bucky. :) I am planning on making a part 2 for the morning after so you’ll have to wait. 😎
Your head was spinning. Your vision blurry. You weren’t quite sure where you were, but you could feel some very muscular arms carrying you.
All you remember was going out with some friends. Bucky, Sam, and Yelena. You had a few drinks and now you’re on somebody’s shoulder. What if you were being kidnapped?! You squirm in the grip of the person carrying you, but it made no difference.
“Stop squirming, we’re almost to my car.”
You recognized the voice. Bucky. Of course he’s carrying you over his shoulder. You definitely could not walk a straight line, let alone walk to his car.
Bucky approached his car, keys in hand and unlocked it. He opened the passenger side door and sat you down gently into the seat, leaning over you to buckle the seat belt. You could smell his cologne. Musky, a little bit of an ocean scent, maybe some…jasmine? It was hard to tell.
You felt a smile tug on your lips as you were in such close proximity to him.
“You smell good..”
You spoke, horribly slurring your words. All you heard was Bucky scoff and your seat belt clicked into place. Your eyes darted to Bucky as he stood up straight, shutting the passenger side door and walking to the drivers side.
You really didn’t think you had that much to drink. Maybe you’d remember in the morning. You could still smell his scent, it got your thoughts running wild.
You’d had this crush on Bucky for…a while now. He had a hard exterior but for some reason..he wasn’t as rough and grumpy with you. There were little moments where he would stare at you for a second longer than he should have, his words being harder than his touch was. You just knew he had a soft spot for you.
By the time you had went through your thoughts Bucky was pulling you out of the passenger seat again, throwing you over his shoulder. How was he able to do that so easily? Oh right…super soldier serum, metal arm…don’t even think about his arm around your….
“I’m giving you some water when we get inside”
You heard his smooth voice again. You could listen to him talk for hours.
You just hummed, a small smile stuck on your face. You could hear Bucky jangling his keys, seemingly trying to find the right one.
Soon enough, you could see the open door as he walked inside his apartment. He sat you down gently on his couch while he went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.
You were not having this though, you couldn’t be away from him. So you stood up, a little wobbly, and stumbled your way into his kitchen. You saw him with a glass of water in hand, about to come back to give it to you but then he saw you.
“What are you-“
He sighs softly, extending his hand with the water.
“Just drink this”
You stared at the water for a moment. (More specifically his hand.) You grabbed it from him, taking a few sips before setting it on the counter and pulling Bucky in for a hug. You could smell his cologne again and hear his heartbeat as your head rested on his chest.
Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t thought you’d be like this. And secretly, he didn’t hate it.
“You know, I think you’re pretty cool”
You weren’t sure what you were saying, words just seemed to be coming out of your mouth.
“Mhmm”
Bucky just hummed, allowing you do to what you had to do. He wasn’t going to push you off of him, he didn’t hate your touch. He was actually enjoying it.
“Yeah, your arm and cool super serum stuff”
You were slurring your words but with your arms around Bucky, you seemed to be grounded enough to stand up straight without wobbling.
“Alright doll, let’s just go to the couch, hm?”
It wasn’t really a question because as soon as he finished speaking, he placed a hand on your lower back and started walking you to the couch. He let you sit down first and then he would sit down beside you.
You, of course, leaned into him, your head on his chest as he turned something random onto the tv. You weren’t really interested in the tv, you only really wanted Bucky.
“I like you, you know.”
You had blurted out of nowhere. It didn’t seed to phase you, you were still quite drunk.
You could hear Bucky’s breath hitch slightly as he heard your words. It took a moment before he spoke.
“We can talk about it in the morning.”
He said simply. He knew you were drunk and while drunk words, sober thoughts was a phrase, he wasn’t sure he completely believed it. He hesitated for a moment before he moved his hand behind you to play with your hair.
The feeling of him playing with your hair was euphoric. It would soon put you to sleep and maybe that was his intention.
It sure did work because before you knew it, you were asleep on his chest, snoring lightly.
Once Bucky knew you were asleep, he moved to lay you down on the couch, pulling a blanket over you. He let out a sigh, unsure how he would bring this up in the morning…
