Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Very few things in the world actually scared Bucky anymore, after all that he had been through, he was sure he could handle just about anything. You, however, were just about one of the things left that scared the shit out of him. Or rather, you specifically didn't scare him, but the way you made him feel? Oh definitely. Even now he was watching you, awestruck by your beauty, as you mingled with party-goers on the other side of the room. He couldn't believe how someone could be so bright, you practically shone every time you entered a room.

He still remembered the first time he met you, on the archery range with Clint. Steve had been introducing Bucky to everyone on the base, you and Clint being one of the last ones left to meet. You had actually managed to sneak up on him. To his horror, he reacted by reflexively throwing a punch that you only barely dodged. And right when he was about to beg for forgiveness, you did something he never expected. You laughed.

He had just tried to punch you, and all you did was laugh and make a joke; as if it were nothing. He really had no idea how to respond apart from a smile and an awkward laugh. That was when your eyes went wide, your smile faded, and his heart dropped, expecting the worst. But the worst never came, instead, you surprised him for the third time in less than five minutes. “Wow,” You said, “You have one of the nicest smiles I have ever seen.”

He had held onto that complement for weeks, replaying it in his head over and over. You had continued to surprise him as well. You really weren't like anyone else, where everyone else looked at him with suspicion or fear, you never did. You didn't even have that hopeful, expectant look Steve often wore that never failed in making Bucky feel horribly guilty. No, you just accepted him as he was, just like you did for everyone else. You made him feel human again, feel normal.

That was when the feelings started, and the only kept growing and growing until the point he was at now, utterly unable to keep his mind, and eyes, off you. It terrified him. In a matter of months, you had become one of the most important people in his life, and he barely even had time to register it.

A smile grew on his face as you walked up to him, drink in hand, grinning brightly. “I wasn't sure you'd be here tonight,” you said, “Thought you weren't much of a partier.” You nudged his elbow with yours playfully.

“I wasn't about to miss Steve’s birthday.” He said, glancing over to his best friend. “What kind of friend would I be if I did?”

You nodded, “It’s not every day you’re best friend turns 100.”

“101,” Bucky corrected and you bit your lip holding back a giggle, “He turned 100 last year.”

“Not according to the number of candles on his cake.” You said, holding a blue birthday candle up to him.

“Really doll?” He laughed. Tony had personally, painstakingly, made sure to count out exactly 101 red and blue candles, carefully arranging them into the shape of an American flag. It was kind of ridiculous how much effort he put into it.

“Well, I added a candle last year, figured I’d take one away this year.” You said, tucking the candle into your pocket, and finishing off your champagne. “You know, the birthday boy let me in on a little secret of yours.” You smiled, setting the champagne flute down as his heart damn near stopped. “But I don't know if I believe it.”

“Oh yeah?” He said, fighting to remain stoic, “What did he say?” If Steve said what Bucky thought he did, the world was going to be down one Captain America.

“He told me, you went out partying and dancing every weekend before the war.” A wave of relief washed over him. Thank God. “I think,” you continued, “Steve’s full of shit, I don’t see you dancing a day in your life.”

Bucky scoffed, “Is that so?” He was used to your games of ‘Prove Me Wrong.’ Every so often, you'd come to him with some challenge or bet for him to try. Shoot a nickel from a kilometer away? Easy. Takedown Natasha one-handed? A little harder, but still done. Eat six crackers in under a minute? Turned out that one was physically impossible, but a fun challenge either way. So it was no doubt in his mind this was another one of your challenges, one he was happy to oblige. “Guess I gotta prove you wrong then.” He said, grabbing your hand, not noticing the mile surprise on your face as he led you to the dance floor.

Maybe he was actually managing to get a buzz from the alcohol being served, or maybe his competitive nature was just enough to make him forget to think. One thing was for sure though, he was stone sober the moment after he pulled you into a dancing stance. His years of experience dancing, luckily, kicked in, automatically pulling him through the steps through sheer muscle memory as he began to realize the situation he had gotten himself into. You looked up at him, eyes wide in disbelief, no doubt matching his own, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder. He could feel the warmth of your other hand in his, smell the scent of your fragrance as he held you close, his metal hand resting on the small of your back.

It was then, at that moment, he had realized probably the most terrifying thing in his life: he was absolutely, and undeniably, in love with you. He had been for a while, but finally having you in his arms, dancing as he did before the war, before everything that had happened to him, was finally what made it all click. At some point, since he met you, he had actually fallen completely and totally in love with you, and he didn’t even notice. Until that very moment, he hadn't realized exactly how strongly his feelings had grown.

“You're being very quiet.” You said, voice soft with concern. “What are you thinking?”

He choked on his words, finding himself unable to make his mouth cooperate, “Я думаю, что я тебя люблю.” He didn't know why he said it in Russian but try as he might, the English just wouldn't come.

You shook your head, “I don't know what that means.”

“You look very beautiful tonight.” He said. The statement itself, wasn't a lie, but to call it a translation would be. Your cheeks went pink as the song ended and the two of you pulled apart. Already he missed you. Already he wanted you in his arms again.

“I guess I was wrong.” You said, not taking your eyes off his. “You dance really well, actually.” You looked down at your hands for a moment, if only to break the intensity of the eye contact. “I guess I should go tell Steve he was right.” You pointed over your shoulder with your thumb, backing away a little more.

Before you could disappear into the crowd, Bucky grabbed your wrist, his heart pounding in his ears, drowning out the music. “If you ever wanna dance again doll, just ask.”

You swallowed and nodded, “Okay.” You said with a small voice, before slipping into the crowd.

Chapter Text

Bucky was reading in the common room when he heard heavy uneven steps some down the hall. He looked up at the hallway in time to see you stumble into the room. Worry painted his face as he saw you. You looked terrible, flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat as you attempted, and failed, to walk in a straight line.

“Doll?” He said, but you didn’t seem to hear him as you continued towards the kitchen until your legs gave out from under you. Bucky was out of his seat before he could even register it himself, catching you before you hit the ground. “Jesus Christ, you’re burning up.” He said, lifting you into his arms.

“Bucky?” You croaked, voice painfully hoarse. “God, why is the room spinning?”

“Because you have a fever, what are you even doing up?” He questioned. You were practically shaking in his arms, clinging weakly to his shirt. His mind wandered back to the last time he held you so close, dancing with you at Steve’s birthday. This was not the way he was expecting you to be in his arms again. Then again, he didn’t exactly expect you to be in his arms again in the first place.

“I was hungry.” You mumbled into his chest, trying to defend yourself from the spinning sensation.

He sighed, “The kitchen is literally the last place you need to be right now.” He said as he carried you to your room, “Tony would have to sterilize the entire thing.”

You groaned as he opened the door to your room, “Can you please stop making the room spin?”

“Sorry doll. I promise it will stop in a second.” He said as he carried you into your room. He always liked your room, on the rare occasions that he saw it. It was bright, and airy, in a lot of ways it suited you. He noticed the small blue candle on your nightstand as he placed you onto the bed. He stifled a laugh as he remembered your ridiculous prank, Tony didn’t even notice it in the end. “Stay in bed, I’ll get you some food and medicine, okay?”

You sat up slightly still mildly dazed and grabbed his wrist. “You don’t have to.”

He pushed you back down into the bed, “I know I don’t have to but I’m gonna. So just stay and rest.” he insisted. Feeling too sick to argue, you nodded and he left the room in search of medicine.

Bucky wasn’t gone long when he came back with a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a bottle of cold medicine, both placed neatly on a tray. He sighed in relief when he saw you still in bed, he was worried you would be like Steve and stubbornly try to get up. You sat up slowly as he placed the tray onto your lap, “Soup?”

“Canned soup, yeah.” He said, pouring a dose of cold medicine into the measuring cup and handing it to you. “Making it from scratch takes a while, and you were hungry now so…”

“Thank you.” You said, taking the small cup of medicine from his hands. You scrunched your nose at it but downed it grimacing at the taste. “You really don’t have to do all of this you know.”

“I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t want to doll.” He said, pulling up a chair and sitting down. If anything, he liked taking care of you. He wanted to help you, make you feel loved and cared for. He wanted to help you feel better like you always manage to do for him without even trying.

You took a bite of soup, spoon shaking in your hand, spilling some of the broth onto the tray. Bucky fought the urge to help you eat, knowing it would only serve to frustrate you. “Why are you doing this?” You asked. Bucky studied you for a moment, biting his lip, knowing the exact answer but not how to say it.

“Weil ich dich liebe.” He felt like a damn coward, but still, he couldn’t bring himself to say it in English. He wanted to tell you, you deserved to know just how deeply he loved you. How his heart would squeeze when you laughed. How the mere thought of you made him smile. How he would wake up every morning with the thought of you. He wanted you to know, but he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you because of it. He couldn’t stomach the idea of you rejecting him, because how could someone so perfect possibly love someone like him.

“Speaking English helps with understanding.” You tried to joke but instead broke into a coughing fit. He took your now-empty bowl and tray and set it on your nightstand so you didn’t accidentally drop either as you coughed.

“I take care of my friends.” He said, brushing the hair from your face as your coughing died down, grazing your cheek with his metal hand.

“God.” You said, grabbing his hand to keep it to your skin, “That feels so nice.” Bucky paused, speechless as you moved his cool hand to your other cheek. “Bucky, sit down and let me bask in your cool.” You ordered, voice far less hoarse than earlier. You tugged on his arm, breaking him out of his stupor. God, you never ceased to amaze him.

He shook his head, trying to calm his racing heart as you weakly tried to pull him down onto your bed. “You should really get some rest Y/N. I don’t think you’re thinking quite clearly.”

“Please Bucky?” You asked, looking up at him with large, puppy dog eyes that made him want to give you the world. “I’ll be able to rest easier if I’m cooler.”

Bucky bit his lip and sat down next to you, rolling up his sleeve to reveal more of his arm. “Fine. But you gotta promise to rest, Doll.” His heart lept to his throat as you curled around his arm, your feverish skin warming the cool metal.

You nodded tiredly as you pressed your face into his arm. He knew it was probably your fever making you so clingy. He knew that you probably would never do this otherwise, but god how he wished you would. Seeing you snuggled against his arm made his heart pang painfully with longing.

He wanted to spend lazy days with you curled into his side, talking about nothing and everything. To hold you in his arms whenever he wanted. To care for you whenever you were sick or injured. More than anything, he just wanted to make you happy.

It wasn’t long before you were gently snoring, limp against his arm. He smiled at the sight of your sleeping form. “I love you.” He whispered, kissing the top of your head and slipping out of your grasp. He only wished he dared to tell you that when you could actually hear it.

Chapter Text

Bucky wandered the palace halls as Steve spoke to T’challa about his new defense plans. Bucky knew that he should go visit Shuri in her lab to check on his arm like he said he would, but he wanted to enjoy his time back in Wakanda when he could. He loved Wakanda. It had become like a second home to him. Besides, you were probably keeping Shuri busy with the binder full of technobabble you brought with you.

It was your first time in Wakanda. You had insisted on coming with them, a binder of documents held tight to your chest, saying things that made no sense to either Steve or Bucky. Bucky wanted to show you Wakanda, to share the beauty of it with you. But when he saw you rush up to Shuri, grinning from ear to ear, asking to share research notes, he didn’t have the heart to pull you away from what you loved.

His wandering eventually led him to Shuri’s lab where he heard your excited voice echo against the hard walls. His heart pulsed at the sound of you, he hadn’t even realized he had been walking towards the lab in the first place. His heart pulsed again when he heard you say his name, urging him to investigate.

“I mean, I don’t really know much about biorobotic prosthesis,” He heard you say as he turned the corner, “Or really have any experience in working with vibranium, but it does work with 80% of the non-vibranium prototypes that I tested.”

Shuri nodded looking over your notes, “your work on the sensory array is impressive nonetheless. If everything works out it should completely fix the microstalling issue introduced in the latest model. We just need Bucky here to-” she grinned when she noticed Bucky standing in the doorway. “There you are!” she said, hurrying over to him and pulling him towards the work table. “We’ve been waiting for you all day.”

Bucky gave a look of confusion as he sat on the table. “I thought you were busy sharing research stuff.” He said as Shuri started maintenance on his arm.

Shuri looked at him playfully, “It’s easier to talk about research when the research subject is in the room.”

“What?” He said and looked at you to see you blushing five shades of pink.

“You complained about your arm not responding right sometimes a few months back.” You explained as Shuri bit back a smile. “So I redesigned Shuri’s sensory array using Tony’s wiring for his suit arms as a basis.” You flipped open your binder to show him one of your schematics. Your eyes lit up as you began to explain the prototypes you had been testing. He knew you often helped in Tony’s lab, but he never had any idea what you actually did. He tended to avoid the place in fear of Tony’s wrath.

Apparently, what you had been doing, at least for the last few months, was trying to find every solution possible for a minor glitch in his arm that he didn’t even remember complaining about. What got him most was just how proud you were. You were so proud, showing him schematics and diagrams that he didn’t even understand, and it was all to help him.

You always looked beautiful when you talked about the things you loved. If you asked Bucky he would have said you shone like the sun. But right now? As you excitedly explained your 25 different prototypes made specifically to help him? You were a god damned supernova, that he somehow had the honor of witnessing.

“Ndiyaku Thanda.” He almost sighed. Shuri paused, looking up at him in mild disbelief.

You stopped talking and looked at him. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Uh, I was wondering if you wanted to see the goats I took care of.” he glanced at Shuri as if asking for help, “Two of them are named Ndiyaku and Thanda.”

You nodded, closing the binder and holding it to your chest, Immediately making Bucky regret speaking at all. He wanted you to keep talking about your research. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a goat in person before, that sounds fun. What do their names mean?”

Shuri snorted as Bucky looked at you dumbly, “Y/N, can you go tell my brother ‘the white wolf is a fool.’ He’ll understand what it means.” She said, finally coming to Bucky’s rescue.

You looked at Shuri, confused, but nodded, setting your binder down on the table next to her. “I’ll love to see your goats when Shuri is done with your arm. Let me know how the new sensory array works out.” You smiled at him, slightly distracting him from Shuri’s insult, before leaving.

Shuri waited until you were out of earshot before completely losing it. “You told them you have two goats named I love you!” She wheezed. “This is better than T’challa freezing in front of Nakia.”

Bucky frowned, face growing hot. “Did you really need to tell them to call me a fool?”

Shuri wiped tears from her eyes, “Coming from the one that said you had goats named I love you? I think it is fairly accurate.”

He groaned, “Stop laughing damn it. I panicked. And don’t you dare tell them what I said.”

“I would never dream of it, but they are going to find out eventually you know.” She stifled a laugh, “You should try telling them in a language they can understand.”

Bucky rubbed his face, Shuri was like a little sister to him, and god did she play the part well. “I’m not doing that.” An electric jolt of pain flashed through his left arm, making him yelp. “What the hell Shuri?”

“That hurt less than it hurts me to watch you be so stupid.” She said. “Tell them how you feel!”

Bucky threw his head back in frustration, “It’s not that easy. Why the hell are you even giving me relationship advice? You aren’t even old enough to drink.” Another jolt ran through him. “Stop that!”

Shuri closed the panel on his arm, finished with her maintenance. “Stop being such a fool.” She shot back as Bucky got off the work table. “Have fun on your date.”

He rolled his eyes, “It’s not a date.”

“Not with that attitude it isn’t.” She teased and Bucky sighed. She knew exactly how to get under his skin, she played the little sister role a little too well, god only knew he was never going to be able to live down the goat comment. Either way, he was more than a little excited about his not-date.

Chapter Text

Bucky’s arm ached as he landed the quinjet. He had gotten stabbed during a fight with a hydra agent. It wasn't bad enough t0 worry about, at least in Bucky’s humble opinion, but damn did it hurt. You would think your body would just stop feeling it after the first 200 times, but apparently not. Thank God the serum made him heal quickly, in all likelihood the injury will be gone tomorrow.

He pulled himself out of his seat with a grunt as the loading doors opened. Sam and Steve were already off the quinjet before Bucky even managed to collect his gear. That was fine with him, he preferred space after a mission and they knew that. It gave him the chance to slip away and destress. A hot shower and a nap were the only things on his mind. That was, at least, until he saw you standing in the loading bay waiting for him with a big dumb grin on your face. The idea of a shower was completely forgotten.

He stopped on the loading ramp wearing a grin that matched your own. He hadn’t been expecting you to be waiting for him when he got back, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining. He wasn't sure if it was because of just how damn bright you were, or if it was because he was completely and totally head over heels in love with you, but your very presence could put him in a good mood.

“What are you just standing there for?” You yelled up to him, “Get your ass down here and tell me hello!” Bucky chuckled. Readjusting the duffle strap on his shoulder as he walked down the ramp towards you. You met him halfway, embracing him in a tight hug, your face buried in his chest. It wasn’t the first time you’d hugged him, but it still managed to make his heart pound so strongly that he wondered if you could hear it right now.

You were probably one of the only people he didn’t mind touching him. He trusted you, far more than he trusted almost anyone else. “Jeez,” he laughed as you pulled away, “You act like you haven’t seen me in two weeks.”

“That’s because I haven’t you jerk.” You said, swatting his arm playfully, directly on his wound.

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath and winced as he grabbed his arm. Your eyes went wide as you saw the blood on your fingertips. “Careful,” He grunted, “I’m a little sore.”

“Sore?” You squeaked, “You’re bleeding! Why aren’t you going to the med bay?” You grabbed his wrist and tried, unsuccessfully, to pull him in the direction of the med bay. “Come on.”

Bile rose to his throat at the idea. He hated the med bay. Its sterile walls and the pungent smell of disinfectant reminded him far too much of hydra. He would have to be literally dying to willingly go in there. “I’m fine Doll. I’ll heal.”

You frowned at him, clearly unamused at his response, “Bucky, what if it gets infected?”

“I can’t get infections.”

You scowled, “At least let me bandage it.” You said, giving his refusal as you pulled him towards the nearest bathroom instead. He sighed in relief and allowed you to lead him by the wrist. He sat down on the sink counter as you took gauze and bandages from a first aid kit. “Take off your shirt so I can get to your arm.” You said, pawing through the kit.

He froze. He hadn’t considered the fact you would actually need to see his injury. And, of course, the easiest way to do that would be to take off his shirt instead of cutting the long sleeve off. He cursed himself for not wearing shorter sleeves. The last thing he wanted was for you to see all of his scars, to see the result of years of torture, and judge him for it. He chewed his lip as he thought of it, you only wanted to help him, you only ever wanted to help, you were just too damn good for your own good. Hesitantly, he pulled off his shirt, a part of him hoping you wouldn’t turn around to see him.

But you did turn around, your face going bright pink when you saw him. “I thought you were wearing an undershirt.” You said, taking a deep breath. Shame coursed through him, he wished he was. “Abs like that are going to kill me.” You said under your breath almost too quiet for him to hear.

He wouldn’t have heard it actually, had it not been for his super-soldier hearing. He watched, dumbstruck, as you started to clean the blood from around the wound. How was he even supposed to respond to that? Should he even respond? “S-sorry.” He managed to mumble out finally.

“What?” You asked looking up at him. “No, no, there’s nothing to be sorry about.” You shook your head and held up an antiseptic soaked rag, “This is going to sting.” You said before touching it to his wound, making Bucky hiss in pain.

Bucky didn’t get how his scars weren’t the first thing you noticed. But then, maybe you were just trying to be tactful. “I can put my shirt on if you want.”

“Then I couldn’t bandage you up.” You reminded. “And that shirt is covered in dirt and blood anyway, it wouldn’t be healthy. It’s not a big deal, I’m an adult, I can handle standing in front of a half-naked man.”

“Look, Doll, I know my scars can be-”

“Your scars?” you interrupted, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why on earth would I care about scars? We all have scars have you seen what we are doing for a living? I just want you to be Not Bleeding.” You said, tying off the bandage. “What I don't get is why you let me do this but refuse to go to the med bay.”

Bucky looked down at the carefully tied bandage, “Parce que je t’aime.” he mumbled, mostly to himself at this point. Honestly just being able to say it in a different language at this point was able to make the pressure in his heart ease.

“I don’t speak that language either Buck.” You said, tossing the bloody rags in the trash.

“I trust you.” He said. It wasn’t an ‘I love you’ but it felt damn close to him.

You looked at him in surprise, “Thank you but… I haven’t exactly done anything special to deserve that.”

Bucky wanted to laugh. Literally, everything you had done had been special in its own way. Your very existence was special. You deserved far more than just his trust. “You’re you. That’s enough.” He said, sliding off the counter. “Thanks, Doll. I'm gonna go finish cleaning up in my room.” He said before leaving you in the bathroom, speechless.

Chapter Text

Bucky was fuming as he pulled you onto the quinjet. He couldn’t believe how reckless you had been, rushing into a room of hydra operatives on your own, risking your life for a damn flash drive. His heart damn near stopped when he saw you run in. You could have died. He could have lost you. “What the hell were you thinking?” He said more than asked, voice low but anger clear.

You gaped at him, pulling out of his grasp, “What was I thinking?” you mirrored, voice a few octaves higher than normal. “What the hell were you thinking? That was our last chance to get those files! Now the mission is-”

“Fuck the mission!” he snapped, catching you off guard. He never yelled, he hated yelling. He hated making himself any shan he already was. But damn it, you could have died! “You put your life in danger for a god damned flash drive.” He said, regaining control of his voice.

You narrowed your eyes, “I was doing my job. The whole reason Fury sent us here was for that flash drive!” You pointed in the direction of the hydra base Bucky had just dragged you out of.

Bucky took a deep breath as he sat in the pilot’s seat, “Almost getting killed is not your job.” He half mumbled. He didn’t want to fight, he wasn’t even angry at you. He was angry at the situation. At the fact that you felt the need to take such a drastic measure in the first place.

You took your place next to him in the co-pilot’s seat as he began to take off. “If I were afraid of dying, I wouldn’t be an avenger.”

Frustration coursed through him. You were as bad as Steve, you never knew when to back down and try another day. And as much as he loved that about you normally, it was another thing entirely when it risked your life. “That doesn’t mean you should take stupid pointless risks like you did today.” He countered, turning on the autopilot. “The mission was already a failure, they knew we were coming, and rushing into a room filled to the brim with Hydra agents wasn't going to change that.”

“You can’t know that!” You argued, throwing your hands in the air. “You pulled me out before I could even try!”

“You were going to die Y/N!” He reiterated for the umpteenth time. “You aren't a super-soldier! I couldn’t even take that many men at once!”

You growled in frustration, fisting your hands in your hair. “That is your obsession with me dying? You wouldn’t have said anything if I were literally anyone else!”

“Je to proto, že tě miluji!” Bucky answered, although the way he said it sounded more like a curse than a confession.

“Stop that!” You snapped, “Stop talking to me in languages I don’t know! It’s driving me nuts!” You stood up abruptly, “Actually, don’t talk at all. I’m done with this conversation. You can explain to Fury why we don’t have the flash drive.” You finished before stomping to the back of the jet.

Bucky sighed, regret eating away at him. He wasn’t sorry that he stopped you, but God knows he could have handled everything else better. The rest of the trip was spent in silence, making his heart ache. Normally coming back from missions with you was the best part of the mission. You always knew how to cheer him up, make him feel better after a long day in the field. But he didn’t want to push it, it wasn’t your job to make him happy. Instead, he gave you the space you wanted, hoping it would let you feel better at the very least.

You were off the quinjet as soon as it landed before Bucky could even try to say something or stop you. He sighed once more as Steve greeted him on the ramp. “Is everything alright Buck? Y/N seemed upset.”

Bucky ran his hands through his hair. “The mission was a failure, and I yelled at them for being reckless. So you could say things could have gone better.”

Steve looked at Bucky, concerned. It was rare for Bucky to lose his temper with anyone, especially you. “What did they do?”

Bucky rubbed his face, “Ran headfirst into a room filled with Hydra operatives in the vain hope it could turn the mission into a success.” Bucky paused as Steve opened his mouth to speak. “If you say you would have done the same thing, that’s the entire issue.” Steve closed his mouth with a sheepish smile.

He grabbed Bucky’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Come on, let's debrief with Fury. You can talk to them about the mission once you’ve both had time to relax.” Bucky nodded, not wanting to confront you any further, and followed Steve into the meeting room.

It was nearly five hours later when he finally worked up the guts to knock on your bedroom door. “Coming!” You announced as he heard you somewhat clumsily roll out of your bed and stumble to your door. The door swung open and the entire speech Bucky had in his mind vanished in an instant. “Bucky.” You said with a level of uncertainty in your voice.

“Doll I-”

“No, I should-”

“Wait let me-”

“Bucky-”

“I’m sorry.” The two of you finally said in unison, surprising you both.

“Why are you apologizing?” You asked, “I nearly got us both killed.”

Bucky grimaced at the thought, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I was scared Doll, you scared me half to death back there.”

You winced, “I was just so focused on the objective, I wasn’t thinking properly about the potential consequences.” You swallowed, “I never even considered that I could have gotten us both killed.” You finished, stressing the word ‘both’.

Bucky scratched the back of his head, he hadn’t actually considered that either. “I just don’t want you to get hurt Doll, I would never forgive myself if you did.”

“It would have been my stupid choice, Buck.” You said with an apologetic smile, “But I promise I’ll look before I leap next time.” You looked behind your shoulder at your TV. “Hey, do you want to come in?” You asked, pointing back with your thumb, “I was binging Brooklyn 99. And I made popcorn.”

Bucky laughed, “Sure Doll, I’d love to.”

Chapter Text

Bucky looked down at the small photograph of himself that Steve had given him a few months back. It was from before the war, before he was drafted, before he had all of his choice taken from him, by the government, by the soviets, by hydra. He tucked a long strand of hair behind his ear, suddenly growing frustrated at the mild inconvenience of it. The Bucky in the photo had short hair, neatly styled as would have been the norm of the time.

He carded his hand through his hair. He hadn’t really even thought about cutting it. Between his time as hydra’s puppet, being on the run, and finally joining the avengers, he really never had the time to consider it. He tucked another errant strand behind his ear. He thought about tying it back for a moment, before his eyes settled on the silver scissors sitting on the coffee table in front of him. Wanda had been using them for her scrapbooking and left them there when she was done.

He grabbed the scissors, opening and closing them in his hand. There was no way he had any clue on how to cut his own hair. He could only imagine the mess he would end up making. He considered his options, the idea of trusting a stranger with a sharp object near his head made his blood run cold, so a barber wasn’t in the cards. Sam would probably make him look ridiculous on purpose, and Steve was currently on a mission. He stopped when he thought of you. He trusted you, not only to not kill him, but also to not make him look foolish. Scissors in hand, he jumped up to find you and ask for your help.

He found you in the lab, tinkering with one of your latest projects, he almost didn’t want to disturb you. He recalled the fight the two of you had just days earlier, the fear of losing you was still fresh in his mind. He had hurt you because of it, yelled at you and upset you at the very least. You had forgiven him, but that didn’t mean he forgave himself. He was about to retreat when you took notice of him.

“Bucky?” You asked, setting your screwdriver down on the table, “Are you okay? You never come into the lab.”

He grimaced slightly and took a few steps closer to you, “I wanted to ask for your help with something.”

You nodded your head, concern still painting your face. “Yeah, sure, what do you need?”

Sheepishly, he handed you the scissors, “Could you help me cut my hair?”

You took the scissors, looking down at them and then back up to him. “I mean,” You said slowly, “I can try.” Bucky let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I’ve never cut hair before though. Did you have a style in mind?”

“Oh!” He said as if suddenly remembering something. He pulled the picture of himself out of his pocket and handed it to you. “Could you try something like this?”

You studied the picture with a smile on your face as you slid off your work stool. You set the picture carefully on the table, next to your screwdriver, and adjusted the stool to make it shorter. “Sit,” you ordered as you grabbed a mirror and propped it up on the table, somewhat haphazardly. The mirror wobbled slightly as Bucky sat, but by some small miracle, it didn’t fall.

You looked at the picture again, and then at him. “What makes you want to get a haircut anyway?” You asked as you combed your hands through his hair. Goosebumps rose on Bucky’s skin at the sensation and he started to wonder if he got in over his head asking you to do this.

“I wanted a change.” He said as you started cutting. Snip, snip. Long lengths of his hair fell to the floor and the sound of the scissors felt strangely loud, but he didn’t feel unsafe. No, if anything it was relieving. Every cut and snip cut away a weight he didn’t realize was there. As if he was shedding the last remnants of what Hydra had done to him.

He watched you in the mirror, tongue sticking out as you made careful adjustments to his hair. It was as if you somehow understood how important this wad to him, without ever needing an explanation. But then, it seemed you always seemed to understand exactly what it was that he felt or needed. Not for the first time, and definitely not for the last, he was reminded of just how perfect you actually were. “Te iubesc.” He didn’t mean to say it. Especially after you snapped at him for speaking in different languages just days ago, but it rolled off his tongue with such ease that he couldn’t stop himself.

You froze, looking at him through the mirror. He immediately regretted even speaking, but before he could mumble an apology, you spoke. “Ce ai spus?”

His eyes went wide and his heart hammered through his chest. He wanted to run, but he wouldn’t let himself. “When did you learn Romanian?”

“When I found out my favorite actor was Romanian.” You said. “You love me?”

He licked his lips, looking for the words to say, “Listen, Doll I-”

“Si eu te iubesc.” You said softly, interrupting him. He stared at you as you went back to cutting his hair, a small smile on your lips. He could barely believe his ears.

“You, you love me too?” He almost choked on his words.

You sighed, “Bucky, I’ve been in love with you since we danced at Steve’s birthday.” You admitted, inspecting your job on his hair. You had done well, it looked nice, but that wasn’t what Bucky was focused on.

As you stepped away, setting the scissors down, Bucky stood up sweeping you into his arms and surprising you with a kiss. His heart was pounding, but he wasn’t afraid. No, if anything, he couldn’t remember the last time that he was this happy. It felt like hours before you both pulled away, breathless. “Next time, you should give me a little warning.” You giggled, clutching onto him by his shirt.

He laughed, “Frankly doll, I surprised myself.” He kissed you once more. “I love you.”