A/N: This will be multiparted! ~Enjoy~
Word Count: 1504
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: You find yourself helping Bucky Barnes find himself again after the events of The Winter Soldier
After a fairly long, and very clandestine drive, you finally
parked by your apartment.
Bucky, who you thought may have fallen asleep because he was
so quiet, threw up his hood over the baseball cap he was wearing and looked to
you to get out first. A bearded guy in a
dark hoodie with a hat on- not suspicious at all… you think shaking your
You hop out of your car and Bucky follows suit, calmly, yet
cautiously towards the door. He doesn’t say a word until you go to unlock your
door on the second floor of the complex.
He grabs your wrist suddenly, “You live alone, right?”
“Do you think I would bring you here if I didn’t live
alone?” you retort. “I’m not stupid- I’m trying to help you here, Bucky. Now, please let go of
He lets go immediately and takes a step back. He looks
remorseful, but doesn’t say anything.
You unlock the door and enter your small apartment, turning
the light on. It had got dark sometime while you were driving and now your
messy home was washed in soft yellow light. You waited for him to step inside
before locking the door behind him.
You turn around to face him with your arms crossed,
“Alright, what’s the plan,”
“Yes, the plan,” you start. “You must have some idea where
to go from here,”
He looks down and stays silent.
“Oh, Please tell me you had a plan,”
“I…I um…” he trails off.
“Oh my god, oh my god,”
you shake your head. “You didn’t have any
clue what you were doing today at the museum, did you?”
“I was confused, okay?” he snaps. “I have no idea who the
hell I am or what happened in the last couple decades, so I’m sorry I didn’t have an escape plan. I was trying to get
answers- I wasn’t thinking,”
You sigh, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped…”
He nods, curtly. The motion causes him to wince and grab his
arm, letting out a grunt.
“Are you hurt?” you walk to his side, immediately.
“It’s-It’s nothing,” he shrugs it off.
“Don’t be like that,” you say. “Come on, let me see it,”
His crystal blue eyes find your (e/c) ones and you realize
just how pretty they are. He looks so innocent and vulnerable- a wounded
predator seeking help from prey.
Looking away, he shrugs his jacket off. He is wearing a long
sleeve shirt and you notice how he’s still wearing gloves even though it wasn’t
cold out. You disregarded that for the moment, though. He hisses as he rolls up
his sleeve, the fabric pulling away from his wound.
It’s a fairly deep cut on along his shoulder and was still
slowly bleeding. You gasp at the sight of it- it looked painful. Like someone
had dragged shattered glass along it…maybe that was how he got it.
“Alright, this needs
stitches,” you murmur. “Sit down over there, I’ll get the kit,”
“It’s fine,” he goes to roll his sleeve back down.
You reach out your hand to stop him, “It’s going to get
infected if you leave it like that. Just let me stitch it up, please?”
He looks at you for a moment before conceding and finding
his seat on your couch.
Satisfied, you swiftly go to your bathroom and grab the
first aid kit you had stored. You never thought you would actually use it, but
you always keep it accessible just in cause. Good thing I kept this thing, you think.
While in the bathroom you remove your nice white blouse, not
wanting to get blood on one of the only good work clothes you own, leaving you
in just a black tank top and black slacks. Not your best outfit, but whatever.
Walking past the kitchen you pause before grabbing that
whiskey bottle one of your co-workers brought over. You would clean the wound
with that. Its not like you would have actually drank that.
“Alright, let’s get started,” you say, taking a seat next to
him. You look him over before commenting, “Do you have an undershirt on? It
would be easier if you took the long-sleeve shirt off,”
He stiffens, “I… um…”
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to make it weird, it would just be
easier,” you say, quickly, “And, aren’t you warm? You can take the gloves off,”
He clenches his jaw, his body language immediately going on
the defensive, “I’d rather not,”
“Okay, sorry,” you mutter, confused. You pause, “You can
trust me, Bucky. I know you don’t want
too, but you can. I think I’ve proved my worth pretty well so far,”
He paused, eyes downcast, with his brown locks falling into
his face. You fight the urge to brush it back.
“You don’t understand,” he whispers. “I’m…they-they turned
me into something ugly,”
“It wasn’t your choice, Bucky, I know that,” you say,
quietly. “Whatever they did to you on the outside doesn’t change who you are,”
He meets your eyes again and sighs, confliction clear on his
worn face. He stands and moves to the window.
He glances over his shoulder, “Don’t freak out, okay?”
You nod, warily.
He gives a curt nod before beginning to slowly remove his
gloves. You couldn’t see any bare skin, but you had your ideas of what it would
reveal. Scars, maybe? Burns? Some type of
injury for sure, you think, watching him in the yellow light.
It wasn’t until he actually removed his jacket that you
realized you were dead wrong.
His arm caught the light and you immediately realized that
you were not seeing the bare skin you expected, but metal. His arm was completely made of metal.
You inhaled sharply, out of surprise, and approached him. He
still had his back turned to you.
“Oh my god,” you whispered.
He turned around to face you, scared. He avoided your eyes.
“I- I’m sorry, I know it’s really…”
“…Incredible,” you breath.
completely reconstructed your arm, that’s amazing,” you respond.
“You’re not…freaked out by this?” he asks.
“Freaked out?” you laugh a little, “I’m in awe. You have a
fully-functioning bionic arm, that’s cool as hell,”
His eyebrows shot up and you think you can see the ghost of
a smile on his lips.
“That’s not the response I expected,” he murmurs.
You smile a little, “May I?”
You hold up your hand, and he nods. Your fingers touch the
smooth, cool surface of his metal arm and you shake your head, amazed. Like how
cool is that? He has a bionic arm- that’s so BA.
“Can you feel this?” you ask, curious.
He shakes his head, “No,”
You draw your hand back, trying not to make him
“Come on, let’s get that patched up,” you nod towards his
He didn’t say much as you put in the stitches or when
you cleaned and wrapped the wound, save for when you went to clean the wound.
“Didn’t peg you as a whiskey kind of girl,” He comments as you unscrew the top of the bottle.
“I’m not,” you admit, “It was a gift from a friend. You want a sip?”
“I could use some,” he gladly accepts.
But after that he was quiet. He was not a man of many words, you realize.
“There. Now I know you won’t die on my watch,” you smile
“How did you learn all that?” Bucky finally asks as you
start putting everything back in the kit. “Stitching up battle wounds is not
something you just know how to do,”
“My grandfather taught me,” you say, fondly, “He was in the
military and thought he should teach me. He was kind of quirky- I don’t know
why he thought I would need to know that when I was 9, but hey, it came in
You thought you saw him smile a little.
“You should get some rest,” you continue, softly. “You look
like you haven’t slept in days,”
“I’m fine,” he says.
You roll your eyes, “I’ll keep watch- you can sleep in my
room. My brother left some clothes in my closet that you can borrow. Come on,
you need it,”
He shakes his head.
“I still don’t understand why you’re helping me,” he
comments. “I could hurt you,”
“You could,” you start, “But I don’t think you will. Now, go
get some sleep, Barnes,”
He smirks, “Yes, ma’am,”
Oh my god did he
actually just make a joke.
You give him a mock salute and point him the direction of
“Sleep well, soldier,” you whisper as he closes the door
And you realize in that moment how screwed you are. You just
took in a fugitive who did all sorts of things that the government is trying to
keep under wraps, and now you were starting to like him. And you think he is
starting to like you.
Oh god, what have I got