Selfless Love
“So, what is he like?”
You sat cross-legged on the freshly made bed while Wanda and Clint were assembling an Ikea wardrobe. They shared a look and frowned before Wanda craned her neck back to look up at you.
“I’m not sure,” she said, using her powers to tighten the screws, “we didn’t really talk, mostly fought.”
You nodded, smoothing the bedspread nervously. Like all the bedrooms in the facility, it had a bed, a wardrobe and a desk.
You looked at the soft sage green walls and remembered the day you moved into the building. You were so excited to decorate your room, to make it your home. You hoped that Bucky would feel the same way.
“But he is Captain Rogers’ friend so I believe he is trustworthy,” Vision said, rolling out the champagne-coloured rug.
Clint got to his feet and dusted himself off. “You guys are practically neighbors.”
It was true. Bucky’s bedroom was at the far end of the corridor, right next to yours. You both had a great view down into the garden, but you were far away from the kitchen and the living area. You briefly wondered what he’d be like as a neighbour when Natasha entered the room.
“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” She gave you a stern look. “We’re leaving in five minutes, Y/n!”
“But I don’t want to leave, I won’t get to see him,” you whined, getting off the bed and crossing the room. “Wait! How should we call him? Bucky? James? Sir?”
Clint wore an amused expression on his face. “Why would you call him ‘sir’?”
“He’s older than me. It’s called respect.”
Clint opened his mouth to retort, a scheming smirk tugging at his lips. You knew he wanted to make a dirty joke, so you left before he could say a word. You changed into your combat suit and joined Natasha and Tony in the quinjet.
Later that day, Steve gave Bucky a tour of the compound, which ended in Bucky’s bedroom. He gave a slow nod of appreciation as Steve set his bag on the bed.
“So am I an Avenger?” Bucky asked, looking through the window.
“Technically, yeah.” Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “We need your shrink’s approval before you can join us on missions, but there’s plenty of work here.”
Bucky turned his head to look at Steve. “Paperwork.”
Steve gave him a tight-lipped smile and nodded. Bucky was grateful to Steve for his support, but he wasn’t sure he belonged there. Not after everything he had done. Steve decided to give him some space and suggested he explore the facility. Bucky walked him back to the door.
“Whose room is that?” he asked, pointing to your door.
“That’s Y/n’s room.”
“I don’t think I met her yet.” Bucky tried to put a face to the name.
“She left today with Nat and Tony. They should be back in a few weeks.”
The arrangement obviously didn’t thrill the billionaire, but he agreed to let Bucky stay. His anger had subsided. He understood that Bucky wasn’t responsible for his actions, but it didn’t change the fact that he saw Bucky’s hand wrapped around his mother’s throat.
Bucky stared at your door for a moment, wondering what you looked like. He didn’t know it yet, but you were about to turn his world upside-down.
*
After a few weeks, Bucky created his own routine. It helped him deal with his anxiety. He woke up every morning at 8am, even though he only slept three hours tops. Then, he padded his way to the kitchen where he ate his oatmeal and sipped his coffee. He spent his morning working out at the gym before he dealt with the paperwork and reports.
He hated paperwork with a passion, but he did it without complaining. His therapist suggested that he should socialize a bit, so he reluctantly joined the others for dinner.
His days were dull and monotonous and he liked them this way. For a moment at least. Now, he desperately needed some excitement.
One night, he was sitting at his desk, writing in his journal, when he heard groans and moans coming from the room next door. He looked up from his notebook and frowned. The clock Steve gave him read 3AM.
It took him a while to understand that those were not moans of pleasure. He peeked into the hallway and saw light under your door.
You came back from your mission with a large gash on your shoulder and assured Natasha and Tony that you were fine. You were in your bathroom, trying to reach the first-aid kit when someone knocked on your door. You grunted loudly and made your way to the door.
“Sir Bucky,” you gasped at the sight of the long-haired soldier.
You cringed at the sound of your words. You could practically hear Clint’s laugh ringing in your head. Bucky’s concerned frown turned into an embarrassed smile.
“Just Bucky,” he replied with an awkward chuckle, then cleared his throat. “Are you okay? You’re kind of bleeding on the rug.”
“Oh, that thing?” You casually gestured to the large wound on your shoulder. You tried to act as if it were just a scratch, but the pain was unbearable. “Yeah, it hurts so bad,” you whined, dropping the act. “Can you help me?”
Bucky pushed the door open and closed it once he was inside. He told you to sit on the bed while he went to the bathroom to take the first-aid kit. When he came back, he saw you grimacing at your wound.
He sat next to you and soaked some clean rag in iodine. You jumped when he started to clean your wound. You pressed your eyes shut, focusing on happy thoughts. He was quiet, too quiet for your liking. Your moans and groans echoed through the room, making you feel like an idiot.
The tip of his tongue poked out in concentration while he stitched you up. His warm breath fanned across your neck and shoulder. You shivered.
“It tickles.”
“The needle?” he asked with a curious frown.
“No, your breath.”
“Sorry.”
You relaxed when he wrapped a strip of gauze around your shoulder. He made sure it wasn’t too tight before he gathered the dirty compresses.
“Thank you.” You smiled sheepishly as he opened your bedroom door.
“No problem.”
His tight smile made you feel like you had upset him. You wrapped your non-injured arm around your middle, trying to seek some comfort. Bucky noticed the pained expression on your face and tried to muster up a nice smile, but you were no longer looking at him. He returned to his room, cursing himself for being so awkward.
The next morning, at precisely 7AM, a loud noise startled him out of his sleep. His instincts kicked in. He burst into your bedroom, his gun drawn and his senses on high alert. He scanned the room, then lowered his weapon when he saw you lying on the carpeted floor.
“Morning.” You grinned through the pain. “I was trying to get dressed, but it’s not easy with only one hand.”
“I know the feeling.” He held out his hand to help you up.
“I’m Y/n by the way,” you said. “Nice to finally meet you. So, do you like your room?” He nodded and you tilted your head, smiling. “You don’t talk very much… I don’t mind.”
Bucky looked down at his feet and grinned. When he raised his head, you were staring at him. His smile faltered and he felt his face grow hot. A smile touched your lips when you saw a deep flush creep up from his neck to his cheeks.
“Breakfast?” he offered with a small shrug.
You nodded enthusiastically and walked with him to the kitchen. Everyone was already up, you noticed Wanda’s favourite mug in the sink and a note from Clint wishing everyone a good day. Such a dad.
“Yikes!” you scrunched up your nose as Bucky set a bowl of oatmeal on the table. “You’re gonna eat that?”
Bucky nodded and sat at the kitchen table. Dipping his spoon into the cooling oatmeal, he watched you move around the kitchen. He chuckled quietly when you started singing to yourself.
“How’s your shoulder?” he asked after a moment.
“Okay, I guess. It hurts a bit.” You bit into a piece of toast and pushed the food into your cheek to leave room for talking. “I’ve never been injured before.”
“Newbie?”
You chuckled. “Nope, I’m just really good.”
“So what happened?”
“Twenty agents, one Y/n. There’s only so much a girl can take.”
Bucky didn’t talk much, but he enjoyed listening to you talk. He loved the way you expressed yourself: vulnerable, yet strong. Entranced by your voice and your stories, he watched you with a smile on his face.
*
The change in Bucky’s behaviour surprised everyone. He talked and smiled a little more, he stayed around after dinner. Even his therapist said he looked happier.
Your wound healed slowly, it left a scar shaped like a crescent moon. You often found yourself tracing it with the pad of your index. It reminded you of Bucky.
There was something about him that put you at ease. Perhaps it was his shy demeanour or his selflessness. Whatever it was, you were growing fond of him and it terrified you, so you decided to keep your distance.
Rebecca Kaplan, skilled psychologist, observed Bucky silently. He was snapping the elastic band around his wrist, a tell-tale sign of his anxiety.
He avoided her eyes. He knew he had to speak first, it was one of her rules. Once, they had spent an entire session in complete silence because he had refused to speak.
“Doc, I’m not good at this,” he groaned. “Where I’m from we don’t talk about our feelings. We lock them away deep inside and pretend they don’t exist.”
“Ah, the 30s,” she grinned and nodded towards the elastic band around his wrist. “What troubles you?”
He sighed, trying to put his thoughts into words. “I think Y/n hates me.”
Dr Kaplan nodded slowly. During the last three sessions, Bucky had talked about you at length. She quickly understood that he was developing romantic feelings for you, but he was clueless.
“Why do you think that, Bucky?”
“She doesn’t talk to me anymore.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Did I do something wrong?” he said, more to himself than to her.
“Why don’t you talk to her?”
“I can’t. I tried,” he groaned. “I stutter and blush like we’re in some kind of parallel universe and I’m Steve Rogers.”
“And your journals?”
“There’s no way in hell I’m showing her that.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she replied, shaking her head. “Maybe you could write her a letter.”
“I don’t know,” he sighed after a moment of contemplation.
Later that day, Bucky returned to the compound. A delicious smell greeted him the moment he opened the door. He couldn’t help but inhale deeply as he entered the kitchen.
“It’s soup,” Wanda grinned when she saw him sniff the air like a dog. “My grandmother’s recipe. I’ve added alphabet pasta, it was Pietro’s favorite.”
She smiled a sad smile as she remembered her late brother. Bucky wasn’t sure what to do, so he offered to set the table. When he was done, she told him dinner would be ready in half an hour. He retreated to his bedroom and tried to write you a letter. Ten minutes later all he had was ‘Dear Y/n’.
When FRIDAY informed him that dinner was ready, Bucky went to your bedroom, but you were not there. Feeling a bit down, he walked down the hallway to the kitchen.
It was just Sam, Wanda, Bucky and you that night, the others were either with their families or on missions. You sat in front of Sam as Wanda poured the soup into deep plates. She sat next to Sam and passed you the bread basket. You frowned when she smiled at someone standing behind you.
Bucky sat next to you, careful not to touch you. You looked up at him and gave him a half smile. Sipping your soup quietly, you threw occasional glances at Bucky.
You were falling hard for him and you wanted to believe that you could cross the line from friends to lovers. It happened to Monica and Chandler and they were happy. But this was your life, not some TV show. If things didn’t work out between you, you’d lose your best friend.
You didn’t want to mess things up with Bucky. Besides, you knew he was still struggling with his demons. The timing wasn’t right.
While Wanda and Sam were chattering away, Bucky watched you from the corner of his eye. Your shoulders were slumped and you looked utterly defeated. It made his heart sink.
He smiled softly, an idea forming in his mind. His brows pulled together in concentration as he wrote you a message in alphabetti spaghetti. He gave you a nudge, prompting you to look at him. You followed his gaze and saw three letters lined up on the edge of his plate.
H E Y
When you smiled at him, your face lit up with glee and he couldn’t stop staring at you. He tore his eyes away from yours and used his spoon to fetch more letters.
U O K
You stared at the three new letters for a moment before you looked back at him and nodded. He mirrored your smile and pushed the letters back into the soup.
You turned to Sam and Wanda who were talking about their incoming mission. They didn’t seem to notice that you and Bucky were in your own little bubble. Bucky gave you another nudge.
M I S S U
You felt tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. He missed you. You were so busy running away from your feelings that it didn’t occur to you that Bucky might need you.
You hung your head in shame, feeling like the worst friend in the world. You forced yourself to meet his gaze and mouthed the word ‘sorry’.
He smiled and held your hand under the table. You laced your fingers with his and gave him a reassuring squeeze, letting him know that everything was fine. At this moment, you made a vow to yourself that you’d always be there for him.
*
You gazed into the mirror and gave a nod of appreciation. Your long dress hugged your body like skin, revealing curves that everyone would die for. You smiled, checking your teeth for lipstick, and walked to the kitchen. The sound of your heels clicking on the floor caught Sam and Steve’s attention.
Sam made a funny sound, hallway between a whistle and a sigh. He took your hand and kissed the back of it.
“Look at us,” you said with grin, “all dressed up to the nines.”
“Not everyone,” Sam replied with a nod towards the kitchen island where Bucky was standing.
He straightened his posture as you approached. You brows furrowed when you took in his outfit: a Henley and a pair of loose sweats. Your mood turned sour when you realised he wasn’t going to attend the charity ball.
“You look…” he paused, at a loss for words. “…wow.”
You looked down at your feet, fighting a big, goofy smile. “Thanks. You’re not coming?” you asked, unable to hide the disappointment in your voice.
Bucky swallowed thickly. He couldn’t stand seeing you so upset, not when he knew it was all his fault.
“It’s not something I enjoy anymore.” He looked away and shrugged. “I-I get anxiety and stuff… People stare at me like I’m a freak, so I get cranky and I’m sure I’ll ruin everyone’s night. It’s better if I just stay here.”
Before you could object, Steve asked if you were ready to go. You nodded, not looking away from Bucky’s sky blue eyes.
“Unless you want me to stay,” you said quickly, but Bucky shook his head.
“No, have fun, Y/n. I’m going to watch neat-flix and order a pizza.”
“Netflix,” you corrected with a smile.
“Yeah, that too,” Bucky smirked before his expression darkened. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Someone has to,” you replied and pressed your lips to his cheek in a quick kiss, sending warmth and guilt to his heart. An odd combination he wasn’t sure he liked.
The party was in full swing, everyone was laughing and chatting. You stared at your drink without really seeing it. You had been excited about this party for weeks and even dolled yourself up, hoping to impress Bucky. But now instead of enjoying your night out, you were sulking alone in a corner.
Sighing heavily, you quickly scanned the room for your teammates. It seemed like they were all having fun. Your eyes rounded when you saw Bucky. He stood at the threshold of the ballroom, dressed in a tight suit, his slightly greasy hair tied up into a bun. It was obvious he had dressed in a hurry, but he looked better than ever.
You watched him as he looked around the room, searching for someone. His eyes landed on you and your heart raced. You set your glass down on a nearby table and met him in the centre of the room.
“Hey!” He sounded out of breath.
“Hey,” you parroted, “I thought you had bigger plans tonight.”
Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darted around like he was expecting someone to attack him. He cleared his throat awkwardly, avoiding your question. “Were you having fun?”
You snorted. “God, no! It’s the most boring party I’ve ever been to.”
“Dance with me.”
With a lopsided grin, Bucky took a step back and held his hand out, urging you to take it. He clasped your hand with his and settled the other around your waist. You sway back and forth to a slow song and briefly wondered if he could hear the drumming of your heart.
“I haven’t danced in a long time,” he admitted, his lips close to your ear.
“You’re still pretty good at it.”
He pulled back to look at you. “I never thought I’d dance again, but dancing with you is easy.” He tightened his grip around your waist. “Everything’s easier when I’m with you.”
His words sent waves of heat through your body. You took a deep breath before you replied, “You’re the only man I want to dance with.”
You danced in silence, feeling like this party wasn’t so boring after all.
*
As the weeks rolled by, you caught a glimpse of the man Bucky used to be and you loved it. He was charming, witty, generous and even a little cocky.
When he visited his sister, she lived in a nursing home in Brooklyn, she gave him a box filled with all sorts of trinkets and pictures. Steve stood next to him, offering moral support. That evening, you and Bucky were sitting on the floor at the foot of his bed, looking at the pictures.
You marvelled at how happy and carefree he looked. Even dressed in well-worn, everyday clothes, he still looked incredibly dashing.
“Where was this picture taken?” you asked, turning the photograph toward him.
He took it between his index finger and thumb. “Coney Island. We saw Mae West that day.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, she was a-”
“Movie star,” you replied with a grin, “I know.” You looked at the photos spread on the floor between you two. “Your sister took a lot of pictures.”
“Yeah, my folks had an old brownie.”
“A cake?”
Bucky laughed. “No, it’s a camera. It was cheap, something like two dollars.”
Your eyes widened. “Two dollars! Are you serious?”
“Yup, now you see why your seven-dollar coffee gives me heart palpitations.”
You rolled your eyes playfully and continued to sort through the pictures. Steve looked cute, his hands always buried deep in his pockets. He smiled shyly, avoiding the camera while Bucky was practically posing.
“How much do you remember?”
He looked down at the picture in his hands, lost in thought for a long moment.
“I have no idea who these people are.” He looked up at you and turned the photograph so you could see it. “Maybe one day I’ll remember, but I’m no longer trying to remember my past. I want to move on, y’know?”
Bucky had that glazed, empty look in his eyes so you quickly changed the subject. “You looked good with short hair.”
“I get that a lot.” He shook his head, grinning.
“I bet you had tons of girls chasing you.”
Bucky’s nose scrunched in the cutest way. “I was popular, but it’s not what you think. It was a different time. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my fair share of action, but most of the time it was just cuddles and kisses behind the church.”
“A real heart-throb,” you mocked.
He let out a small, guilty chuckle that made your stomach do flip-flops. Bucky heard your heart knocking hard inside your chest and his blood instantly warmed up. It was an amazing feeling, he hoped it would last forever.
A knock on the door broke the spell.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you had company,” Steve apologised and retreated, closing the door.
“No, come in,” you said, pushing yourself off the floor. “I have to go anyway, Natasha’s waiting for me.”
You patted Steve on the arm as you brushed past him and left the room, closing the door behind you. Steve sat on the floor in front of Bucky and observed him silently. Bucky’s jaw clenched. He took a deep breath to keep from groaning out his frustration.
“If you’ve got something to say, say it before I kick you in the groin,” Bucky grunted, not meeting his friend’s eyes.
“It’s nice,” Steve shrugged, “you and Y/n. Look, I’ll tell you what I said to Banner. Don’t wait too long. You both deserve a win.”
“When did you become a love expert?” Bucky fought back a smirk.
“Buck.”
“Steve,” he shot back in the same exasperated tone.
They stared at each other for a moment, their eyes narrowed, before they burst out laughing. Bucky took an old photograph and handed it to Steve.
“We haven’t changed that much.” Steve smiled fondly at the picture.
“We changed plenty, pal.”
“You’re right,” Steve replied, a sad smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “If we were still in the 30s, you would have sneaked off behind the church with Y/n and put your hand under her blouse.”
“It’s called cuddling,” Bucky grumbled.
Steve tilted his head, smirking. “No, it’s called fondling.”
Steve was right. Back then, Bucky could have sweet-talked a girl into almost anything, but then HYDRA got their hands on him and everything turned sour. Now he was an emotionally and physically broken man, but there was something he never expected. You.
Flirting with you was so easy, like playing a game of cat and mouse, and he realized how much he had missed the thrill of the chase. He had never felt this way before, his whole body was burning, ready to be touched again. It was time to do something about it.
*
Asking you out proved more difficult than he had thought. How do you ask your best friend out on a romantic date? He tried to rehearse it in front of his mirror, but Sam caught him and teased him endlessly. His natural response was to go to the gym and punch something.
“What’s happening between you and Bucky?” Natasha asked with a knowing grin as you walked down the hall toward the training room.
“Don’t act like you don’t know, Nat. It doesn’t suit you.” You bumped your shoulder with hers. “I’m not blind, I know he likes me and I like him too, but we’re… taking it slow.”
Reaching the door, you both walked inside the gym. Natasha’s eyes automatically scanned the room. Bucky and Steve were sparring on the mat, their ridiculously small shirts hugging their broad frames.
When he saw you, Bucky arched his shoulders, making himself look bigger. Steve caught him off guard and, soon, Bucky was lying face down on the mat.
“Serves you right,” Steve pulled him to his feet. “You were distracted.”
Bucky shot him a dirty look before he turned around and saw you and Natasha standing a few steps away, staring at him. He mustered a smile.
“Buck, I’d like to see you spar with Y/n.” Steve used his Captain America voice.
Bucky nodded and pushed a few sticky strands of hair off his face. You smiled as he struggled to adjust to his new haircut. His hair was still long enough to fall into his face, but not long enough to tie back.
You stood with your fists raised and Bucky mirrored your posture. He blocked your first attack and gave you an impressed nod, witnessing your fighting skills first-hand. Natasha and Steve were watching silently.
Bucky wasn’t holding back his punches and you really appreciated that. He threw his punches harder, trying to throw you on the mat. His muscles flexed each time he touched you.
You used Natasha’s favourite move, but he saw it coming and pulled your hair back hard. There was no way you could beat him fair and square. You considered your options. What was the Winter Soldier’s greatest weakness? He didn’t have any. What was Bucky Barnes’ greatest weakness?
You.
You cried out in fake pain, like something from a horror movie, and Bucky released you immediately. He turned you to face him and cupped your jaw in his hands, searching your face for any signs of pain. Grinning devilishly, you pushed your full weight into him. He lost his balance, making him fall flat on his back.
You landed on top of him and chuckled.
“I win!”
“You cheated,” he grumbled, still cupping your face.
You scoffed. “Says the man who pulled my hair. You play dirty, Bucky.”
The sound of someone clearing their throat pulled your attention away from him. Suddenly remembering you were not alone, you pushed yourself off Bucky and smiled sheepishly at Steve and Natasha.
“Ready to fight, Widow?” you asked her.
Natasha cocked a brow at you, silently telling you that you were not fooling anyone. She grinned and joined you as Bucky scrambled to his feet. He gathered his things and followed Steve out of the room.
“That was entertaining,” Steve teased, sarcasm dripping from his words.
“Shut up,” Bucky grumbled. “So what do you say? Can I join the team?”
“You know I can’t allow that,” Steve sighed.
“Is it because of the shrink? Steve, she says I’m good. Even signed the damn paper-”
“It’s not just that,” Steve cut him off. “The way you act around Y/n makes me think you won’t be able to keep fighting if something were to happen to her. Buck, if you lose it everytime she-”
“If pigs could fly,” Bucky reflected, stopping in the middle of the hall. Steve turned around, fidgeting under Bucky’s stare. “C’mon! Who do you think I am?”
Steve sighed. “Listen, it’s not easy. Sometimes, not everyone comes back and we’re all aware of that. If you join the team, you have to accept that each mission can be her last.”
Bucky pondered his words for a moment, then looked back at Steve. “I may need another week or two.”
Steve put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder and squeezed. “No rush, Buck.”
Bucky returned to his room, he needed to be alone. He stayed in the shower for a long time and let the hot water massage away his tensions. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.
Bucky wiped the fog off the mirror with his hand and looked at his reflection. He was deep in thought when he heard someone knock at the front door. Clad only in a white towel wrapped around his waist, he swung the door open. Your eyes widened at the sight of Bucky’s taut chest and damp hair.
“Hey!” You cleared your throat and darted your gaze away. “Do you want to hear a scary story?”
“Always.”
“Steve’s cooking dinner.”
Bucky grinned. “Sounds dreadful.”
“Yeah,” you chuckled, “everyone has already left. Wanna go eat dinner outside?” You saw him frown, it was probably the word ‘outside’ that made him hesitate. “Please, Bucky.”
Your fake sad pout made his heart lurch. “Fine, but I want pancakes.”
“Oh, breakfast-for-dinner? I like how you think.”
“Let me throw some clothes on and I’ll join you in a minute,” he said, suddenly aware of his state of undress.
“Take your time, I need to take a shower.”
Bucky closed the door and searched through his closet for something to wear. He heard the sound of running water coming from your bathroom and had to try really hard not to let his imagination run wild.
He was going out with you. It wasn’t exactly a date, but it could become one…
*
At the pancake house, you sat across from Bucky and studied the menu. There were so many different choices, you were completely lost. Seeing you hesitate, Bucky ordered a huge breakfast fest, including a large stack of pancakes and two different kinds of juices.
“You’re insane,” you laughed when the waitress left. “We’ll never be able to eat all that food.”
“Don’t worry, I’m starving.”
You noticed he kept his metal hand on his thigh under the table. He looked around, hoping no one would recognize him. You watched him with a fond smile.
“Nervous?”
He pursed his lips into a tight smile. “That obvious, uh?”
“It’s okay, they’re not looking at you,” you said with a smile. “And even if they were, I’m sure they’d be staring at your very impressive biceps.”
Bucky shook his head, grinning. You laid your hand, palm up, on the table. He took it and weaved his metal fingers through yours.
“I know they’re not looking at me,” he said, bringing your hand to his lips. “Not when you’re with me.”
You looked down at your lap, fighting a silly grin. “You’re a smooth talker, James.”
“It’s coming back to me.”
The waitress came back with your drinks and food, forcing him to drop your hand. It gave you a few moment to regain your composure. You looked at the food on the table and let out a nervous laugh.
“Everything looks so delicious.”
Bucky agreed with a nod, his eyes wide in amazement. You chuckled at his excitement and cut into your pile of pancakes. You shoved your first forkful of blueberry pancakes into your mouth, your eyes rolling back into your skull.
“Oh, God,” you moaned in pleasure, “it’s so good!”
The sound that left your mouth made Bucky choke on his orange juice. He shifted in his seat, willing his rapidly growing bulge to cease.
“Are you okay?” You tilted your head, frowning concernedly. Still coughing, Bucky nodded. He was glad that you seemed oblivious to the reaction you caused. “Went down the wrong pipe?”
“You could say that.”
You furrowed your brows, but he dismissed your concern with a wave of his hand. He hid his embarrassed face behind his glass, screaming internally.
The conversation flowed easily between you. You shared bites of your food and agreed that blueberry pancakes were the best. You chuckled, wiping away a smudge of blueberry on Bucky’s chin.
Time seemed to fly by, and before you knew, the waitress brought the bill. Bucky reached for his wallet, but you beat him to it. You dropped a few bills and a generous tip on the table.
“I took some money from the swear jar before we left.”
Bucky gaped at you. “You’re incredible.”
“Not really,” you replied with a shrug, “but Steve and his potty mouth are pretty amazing.”
You walked back to Bucky’s bike and put your helmet on before you climbed on behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. Bucky removed the kickstand and made sure you were sitting comfortably before he pulled out into traffic.
When you arrived at the compound, you noticed Sharon’s car parked in the driveway. Steve must have called her after everyone bailed on him. The kitchen was empty, but you nudged Bucky and nodded toward the half-touched plates of food on the table.
Suddenly, a moan tore through the silence. You distinctly heard the words ‘Oh, my God’ before you and Bucky burst out laughing. There was no way Steve and Sharon heard you, they were making a lot of noise, but you still tried to stifle your giggles.
You led Bucky down the corridor towards your rooms, turned the corner and stopped. This part of the compound was always quiet.
Bucky stood next to your door, he didn’t want the night to end. You stayed silent, mindlessly tracing the scar on your shoulder.
“I see you do that a lot,” Bucky said, looking at your hand.
“It reminds me of you.” You smiled at the crescent moon scar and raised your eyes to look at him. His expression was careworn, almost hurt. “You patched me up the night we met. You took care of me.”
Bucky took a step closer and carefully raised his hand. “May I?”
You nodded, eager to feel his touch. He ran his index finger along your scar, seemingly entranced by it. His hand skimmed down your arm and he intertwined your fingers together, gently tugging you closer.
“I want to be your man,” he slowly closed the distance between you, “if you’ll have me.”
Bucky waited for your approval, the tip of his nose touching yours. Your eyes were already closed when you nodded. His lips brushed yours, back and forth, like a feather. It was so tender that tears stung behind your eyes. When he pressed his lips against yours, you wrapped your free arm around his waist and pulled him to you.
He rested his forehead against yours, inhaling deeply.
“It was my first kiss since 1943,” he revealed.
“Me too,” you tried to lighten the mood.
Bucky laughed softly before his lips found yours again, this time more demanding. You parted your lips for him and let him take control of the kiss. He backed you up against the wall in the hall and slid his fingers through your hair, cradling the back of your head.
You ran your hands up and down his sides as his kisses turned sloppy. A happy tear ran down your cheek, making him pull away. He wiped it off with his thumb, a concerned frown furrowing his brows.
“It’s okay, I’m just happy,” you said, not recognising your own voice. He kissed the corner of your eye.
“I’m sorry,” he laughed again, “I really took my sweet time.”
“It’s better than rushing into something you’re not ready for.”
“I’m ready.” A warmth spread through his chest and he knew he really meant those words.
“Good. Do you want to stay a bit longer?”
He cupped your face, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones. He wanted more, he wanted to sleep next to you, but a nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him that this was too good to be true.
“I can’t- It’s…” His jaw clenched, frustrated that he couldn’t put his feelings into words.
“Baby steps,” you soothed, rubbing his sides.
He sighed, grateful for the distraction, and nodded. “Baby steps.”
*
“You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
Natasha came into the kitchen, smiling as she filled her favourite mug with coffee. She rested her back against the counter and blew over the surface of her hot coffee before she took a careful sip.
“Bucky had a nightmare last night,” you mumbled.
Natasha pulled out a chair and sat across from you. You straightened your shoulders and rubbed your eyes with the tips of your fingers.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she offered with a small smile.
“It’s just…” you sighed. “I feel like he’s pushing me away. Last night, I fell asleep in his room and I woke up in my bed. Later, he woke up screaming, but his bedroom door is always closed. Sometimes he even drags his desk to block the door.”
“He’s afraid,” Natasha said, her hands wrapped around her warm mug. “He’s afraid that if he lets his guard down, they’ll come for him. I know the feeling. You’ve been dating for a few months now, just be honest with him.”
That night, Bucky kissed you goodnight and locked himself in his room. You tossed and turned in your bed, unable to get comfortable. Your clock read 4AM when you heard Bucky dry heaving.
You knocked on his door and tried the knob, your heart pounding in your chest. You heard the toilet being flushed, then the rush of water as he turned on the taps and you waited patiently. Bucky opened the door slowly and pressed a sweaty kiss to your forehead.
“I’m fine, go back to bed.”
You brushed past him to enter his room and looked around; the bed was unmade, the sheets crumpled. Bucky closed the door, too exhausted to argue.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” you replied, turning to face him. “Let me help you.”
You took his flesh hand, but he quickly pulled it away.
“I killed Maria Stark with that hand,” he choked on the words, then struggled to continue. “Do you really want to hold it? Kiss it? Feel it on your skin?”
“It wasn’t you-”
“But it was my hand,” he interrupted.
“Yes, it was.” You took a step closer and reached for his hand. “And you’re going to have to deal with this your whole life, but you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here for you. Nat, Steve, Sam, Clint… we’re all here for you.”
He lowered his gaze to your intertwined hands and took a shaky breath.
“You’re all sweaty, let’s get you in the shower,” you said, leading him to the bathroom.
“You don’t hav-”
You shushed him gently and gave him an encouraging smile. He removed his shirt while you turned on the water, setting the temperature. Soon, steam filled the small bathroom and you left the room to give him some privacy.
“Can you join me?” he asked, his voice was small and thin.
He only had his sweatpants on and you figured he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. You nodded and began removing your clothes as Bucky kicked off his sweatpants. You felt your face heat up. You had never seen him nude before and while he did look stunning, he also looked extremely vulnerable.
Taking his hand, you joined him in the shower and let him hang onto you. He was leaning over you, one hand resting on your hip, the other supporting his weight against the wall.
You soothed him as best you could, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, running your hands up and down his sides. He started crying, silently at first, then his entire body shook as he sobbed into the crook of your neck.
A few minutes later, you stepped out of the shower and dried yourself off. You handed him a clean towel and tossed his dirty clothes into the hamper.
Bucky walked out of his bathroom only wearing a pair of black boxer briefs, his head was tilted as he rubbed the towel into his hair. He threw it on the bed and took your hand as you both walked down the hall to your room.
“Feeling better?” you asked, closing the door behind you.
“Yeah, thank you,” he gave you a tired smile.
You wrapped your arms around him and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips. He climbed into bed with you and you both lay on your sides, facing each other.
“It’s okay, you can close your eyes.”
“On one condition,” he said, holding out his little finger. You wrapped your little finger around his. “You let me hold you. I need to know I can protect you. I need to feel you against me.”
“I’m never going to say no to that.”
You scooted closer to him, your head on his shoulder and your leg overlapping both of his. Bucky wrapped his metal arm around your waist, keeping you close to his side. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.
*
Bucky groaned as he searched his bag for his glove and came up empty. It had been designed by Bruce and Tony to resemble flesh. Crossing the bedroom, he yanked the top drawer out and spilled the contents onto the floor
“I can’t leave if I don’t have my glove,” Bucky complained, scratching his head. “I could have sworn I left it on the bed.”
He turned around and scanned the room. His shoulders dropped when he saw you sitting cross-legged on the bed, his precious glove in your lap. He sat next to you and threw it aside.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
When you didn’t move, he hooked his finger under your chin and raised your head until your eyes met his. His heart broke when he saw the tears on your cheeks.
“It’s a stakeout,” he repeated for the nth time, “I’ll be back in two days.”
“I know,” you said, throwing your head back dramatically. “I know you can take care of yourself, but I’m worried. And why do you need your glove if it’s a stakeout?”
“It’s just a precaution.” He curled his arm around your shoulders and pulled you against his side. “I know how you feel. It hurts when you leave, but it’s your job and I’ve accepted that. Now I need your support. I can’t do this without my best girl.”
“I’ll always support you, but… I’m scared you won’t come back,” you whispered.
Bucky took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. It took him a while to accept that each mission could potentially be his last –or your last, but he wanted to prove himself. He kissed the top of your head and squeezed your shoulder.
“No matter what happens, we’ll always be together. You’re always on my mind. Not even death can change that.”
Your smile grew into a quiet laugh. “I love you too.”
Lowering his head, he chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what I was trying to say, but these three words seemed too simple for what I’m feeling.”
He leaned loser until his lips brushed your ear and whispered the three simple words into your ear. A comfortable warmth spread through you. He cradled your jaw in his hands and kissed you slowly.
“I have to go,” he said, resting his forehead against yours. “But when I come back, I’m gonna make love to you in every position I can think of.”
“Cool!” you joked.
Bucky took his glove and swung his overnight bag over his shoulder. You accompanied him to the door and gave him a long, passionate kiss. He wanted to say nothing wrong would ever happen, but he refused to make any promises he couldn’t keep.
*
You strode down the hall to Bucky’s room, squealing internally as you finally reached the door. Your three-month assignment ended a lot sooner than expected and when Tony told everyone they could go home, you decided to surprise your boyfriend. You slowly opened the door, giggling to yourself.
“I’m ho-” You barged into the room, arms extended, but you cut yourself off, brows furrowed. Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you.
The wall between Bucky’s room and your own was down… well almost down. Thor swung his hammer and raised his ridiculously strong arms in a victory gesture as the wall crumbled down. No one noticed your presence, they were too focused on their tasks.
“Who’s a hoe?” Clint asked from his spot on the ladder. His eyes widened when he saw you standing near the front door. “Hey! Y/n’s here!” he said, a little too loudly for it to be a casual greeting.
Bucky whirled around to face the front door, a look a sheer panic on his face. He crossed the room in two long strides and gently grabbed your shoulders. You blinked fast, unable to move.
“Hey, love!” he said with an awkward chuckle and then kissed your cheek. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”
“Yeah… I can see that,” you said slowly as your senses came back into focus. “Why is there a giant hole between our bedrooms?”
Bucky led you further away from Clint, Thor and the enormous gaping hole that was once the wall connecting your rooms. You noticed that his bed, drawer and desk were covered with tarpaulins.
“Remember when I said we should move in together and you said there was still a wall between us?” He didn’t give you time to answer before he continued. “At first I thought you meant a metaphorical wall, but then I understood… it was an actual fuckin’ wall.”
“Yeah, but what? Why?” Your eyebrows knitted together and you shook your head, unable to put together a coherent sentence.
“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I didn’t want you to feel like we were living in a construction zone.”
“Bucky,” you sighed.
“Hear me out, okay?” he urged, taking your hands. “We always sleep in your room so it will be our bedroom. We’ll turn my bedroom into a living room and your bathroom will be a kitchenette. It won’t be huge, but there’s still an actual kitchen down the hall.”
Bucky let you process the new information he’d dumped on you. He looked at you with a hopeful smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and you gave up. You couldn’t say no to him, especially when he smiled like that.
“Fine,” you huffed out, “but you should have told me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, circling his arms around your waist, “sorry, ma’am.”
You cocked a brow at him as he leaned in and nudged your nose with his. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”
Before Bucky could kiss you, Thor cleared his throat. He had a stupid grin on his lips as he watched you and Bucky.
“You’re one of the blessed few whose house was built by Mjolnir.”
“Mew-mew knocked out a wall,” Clint chimed in. “I’m the one doing all the work here.”
While you enjoyed Thor’s witty comeback and sassy facial expression, you and Bucky decided to slip out of the room without them noticing. As soon as Bucky had closed the door, he cupped your face and kissed you.
You were finally home.
You locked your arms around his neck and arched into him, wanting to feel every inch of him against you. When Bucky pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. You could still hear Clint and Thor’s muffled voices.
“They’re basically children,” you said.
“Yeah, and it’s like that all day long.” Bucky dragged out the last three words. You giggled. “I’m glad you’re home safe, I missed you.”
He trailed open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat while he pulled the strap of your tank top down. When he reached the crescent moon scar on your shoulder, he gave it a gentle kiss. It was something he did every time you came back from a mission.
“The first time I saw you, you called me ‘Sir Bucky’,” he recalled, smiling against your skin.
You let out an embarrassed groan. “It was Clint’s fault.”
Bucky smiled up at you and adjusted your tank top strap before he straightened up.
“He’s a nice guy, we talk a lot. Ironically, I’m glad someone understands what it’s like to have no control over your actions, ya know?”
“I know,” you said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “And I’m sure it helps him as much as it helps you.”
Bucky and Clint built up a close friendship based on their shared life experience. He loved you very much, but there were things he couldn’t tell you; not because you would treat him differently, but because only someone who had been through the same kind of torture could understand the depth of his trauma.
“Hey, Loverboy!” Clint shouted through the closed door. “You’re more than welcome to join us.”
Bucky kissed your cheek before he took a step toward the door. He reached for the doorknob, paused and glanced over his shoulder. He looked at you with nothing but adoration shining in his blue eyes and you practically melted.
“I only want what’s best for you,” he said. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Smiling sweetly at you, he disappeared inside the room and closed the door. You stayed there for a moment, smiling to yourself. You had found your other half, your best friend, your lover and your protector.
"True love begins when nothing is looked for in return." Antoine de Saint-Exupéry