Chapter 7
This had become your daily routine.
Setting up new improvements to HYDRA bases, systems, anything. Bucky would come back at about dinner and you realized after about two more times of egg that they stopped putting hummus in your egg sandwiches and gives you chicken instead.
You've probably got Bucky to thank for that.
The Winter Soldier is nicer than you thought. More human once you get to know him. He talks to you occasionally, and you help him clean his wounds most of the time, but sometimes the cell is filled with silence and you just lie separately.... just understanding.
You tell him about your life in the Avengers tower, making sure you put extra emphasis on Cap, but he doesn't seem to notice. He just listens. He's a listener.
You tell him random things about you, how you're allergic to chickpeas but almost died after accidentally swallowing one in kindergarten, how you love hacking, and you love making music. You tell him about your little studio in the Avengers tower where you have everything you need- workout stuff, computers, diesels so you can paint, the computer with specially outfitted systems to making music, and the soundproof system pasted on the walls. You tell him about Tony. You tell him everything, really, except for your powers. You leave that part out.
Every day you also hope Tony will come, but he doesn't. It's just a wish that gets extinguished and relighted again.
He laughs sometimes, smiles too, and he starts to talk more. Not that much, but definitely more.
Sometimes you recite a few poems you've memorized, like Edgar Allen Poe or T.S. Elliot or Emily Dickinson. You recite Shakespeare to him, and sometimes, you sing to him.
So now you're lying here, in the dark. You hear Bucky's quiet breathing from the other bed.
"(Y/N)."
You're surprised. He doesn't often talk to you first- it mostly takes you and exaggerated hand movements to start a conversation with him or get him to open up. "Yeah, Bucky?"
Then you realized you called him Bucky. It was the first time you had called him that- you hadn't told him about the past, because you knew if they found out they would wipe his memory.
There was a little bit of hesitation, then he sat up in bed. "Come here."
Further surprise. He didn't say those two words a lot- in fact, that was the first time he'd said those words.
You set down your pillow, which you were using as a cuddle toy, and walked over to him, plopping down next to him. "Yeah? What's wrong?"
"I..." He looked down, at his hands, then his eyes flickered back up to you. "I think I'm starting to remember something."
Your eyes widened as you looked at his face, searching for a lie. He had been wiped, completely- there was no way, unless.... unless the Bucky thing triggered something.
"Who?" You prompted. "What? When? Where? Why? How?"
He frowned. "I remember a.... a... a boy. He had blond hair, I think, and was.... was skinny?"
You grinned. "Great! Go on!" You knew who he was talking about- the man your father called "Boy Scout", Steven Grant Rogers.
"And I.... I remember he was getting... getting beaten up-"
You sighed. Stevie, as you remembered, had always been beaten up by bullies, or so he said. Always picking fights with bigger guys.
Bucky was glancing at you cautiously. "Am.... am I boring you?"
"No, just a memory." You smiled softly, and when you saw him hesitate, took his prosthetic arm and eased her fingers through his cool ones, remembering how just a few hours ago, you had patched the mechanical one up because of a malfunction.
He relaxed, visibly. "-and... and anyways, I think I used to protect him from them, we were friends."
He was blushing a little bit. Not so much, but a teeny bit. He doesn't think of me anything more than a girl who hangs out in his cell, does he? I'm just imagining things.
Then he straightened, and turned to you. "What was that you called me? Bucky?"
"Uh..." You stuttered. "I... um.... you reminded me of someone I knew."
"There was a man on the bridge, for the mission I had today." He mumbled. "He.... he... called me Bucky, and he was so similar to the little guy I saw in my memories."
"That's nice." You averted your gaze from him.
"You know something, don't you?" His non-metal arm lifted your chin up, and his eyes bored into yours. It scared you- he was the Winter Soldier now, his eyes cold and hard, demanding you tell the truth, and there was such authority in his voice.
"No." You mumbled. "No, I don't."
"Bucky." He looked at you even deeper. "Just tell me the truth, (Y/N)."
You really wanted to tell the truth. You really did. This was for his protection.
Or was it? Maybe it was just nothing more than selfishness, and how you wanted to preserve this moment forever. Maybe you were afraid that if he realized who he was, he wouldn't need you anymore and instead go to Steve, becoming that skirt chaser all over again. Maybe you were afraid he would just leave you in the dust.
But it was so damn wrong, keeping the truth from him.
"You're James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th." Tears sprang up into your eyes. "Bucky Barnes for short. I'm sorry, but that's all I can tell you."
Bucky looked down, mumbling Bucky Barnes over and over again, then looked at you in surprise.
"What?" You asked, puzzled.
He gasps. "My hand."
You glance down at your lap and realize your hand is fiery, almost on fire, and his is engulfed in flames. Your eyes widen in horror as you try desperately to suck up the heat energy. It doesn't work- you're too panicked. You take a few deep breaths as he pulls his hand away. Thank god it was the metallic hand and not the human one.
He looks around for anything to douse the red-hot heat with. His fingers are slightly glowing red from the heat.
"Bucky." You grab his hand again and feels the familiar tug, reeling in the heat again and disposing it through your other hand, which lights up the tip of the bed red-hot. It starts to fade.
His eyes scan over your face. Roaming over your eyes, your nose, your lips.
He growled. "You're going to be the death of me, (Y/N) Stark."
"What is that supposed to-" You yelped as he pushed you roughly to the wall, tearing his metallic arm from your grasp and pinning you one-handedly. I'm going to die. He was just pretending to be my friend.
But he didn't take out a gun and shoot you. Instead, his lips crashed onto yours.
You stifled a gasp as his other arm, the human one, winded around the curve your waist, just above your ass, and the momentary parting of your lips allowed him access to your mouth. His tongue slipped in, explored every inch of your tongue. You kissed him back like you were never going to be able to do that again, and he bit your bottom lip. That was definitely going to swell the next day.
Bucky tore his lips away from yours, hesitantly.
"Bucky..." You mumble. "About... about my powers...."
"Shh." He silences you, a hand to his lips. "You don't have to talk about it if you want.... doll."
You distantly gaze at the door of the cell, then your eyes flicker back to him. "I like that. You calling me doll, I mean."
"Good." He kisses you, shortly, again. "You don't have to talk about it if you want."
You fall asleep hypnotized by the sound of his breathing.