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You’d been assigned to solo missions before, but never anything this lengthy. Two months seemed a long time away from home, away from your friends, away from Bucky. He had been even sadder than you, when you told him how long you would be gone. You knew he was happy for you for receiving such an important assignment, but you two had gone on nearly every mission together since he first became part of the team.
Thus the two months had been hard. You’d managed to adjust to the humid Cuban weather, the soft, frictionless Cuban dialect, and the spotty cell service, but what you had never grown accustomed to was the loneliness that came with working alone. You missed working out with Sam, jogging with Steve, sparring with Natasha, exploring the tower with Clint, even testing out new gear with Bruce and Tony. Most of all, you missed waking up next to Bucky every morning, holding on to him as you slept, eating outside with him and admiring the city from the balcony. You missed running your fingers through his hair, cradling his head in your lap while he napped, dressing his wounds after rough recons. Even with the bright-colored buildings, the beautiful inhabitants, and the vibrant culture of Havana surrounding you, it was so easy to miss him.
Finally, on your last night, Natasha had picked you up in the quinjet, and you were on your way home, eager to reunite with your friends and your Bucky. You slept for most of the journey, curled up in your seat, and woke up to Nat poking your shoulder, having just landed at HQ. You extended your arms over your head in a stretch, your excited grin broken by a huge yawn.
“Home, sweet home,” you mumbled, following Nat off the jet and into the hangar. You dragged your feet to the elevator and tried not to fall asleep during the ride to your floor. You’d been expecting a text from Bucky the moment you arrived home, but you hadn’t received any messages, aside from Steve asking—as usual—how the mission went. You had just texted him a condensed version of a mission report when the elevator doors opened, and you walked out into the hallway.
The door to your room hadn’t even shut behind you before you started to strip, toeing off your combat boots and wiggling out of your tactical pants. When you were down to your undershirt and shorts, you headed straight for your bedroom, tossing your clothes into the laundry hamper on your way. You flicked on the lightswitch in your room and weren’t surprised to find Bucky curled up on your bed, fast asleep and hugging your pillow against his chest.
You smiled at the sight of him, stepping over to him and sitting on the side of the bed. The mattress dipped under your added weight, and he stirred, his eyes fluttering. You stroked his hair back from his face and leaned down to kiss his bristly cheek.
He didn’t open his eyes, but his lips curled into a smile. “Hey,” he mumbled, reaching out blindly to wrap an arm around you.
“I’m home,” you sang, kissing his forehead and his nose and finally his lips. They were as plush as you remembered. “Scoot over, baby, I’m exhausted.”
Bucky rolled over to the side of the bed closest to the wall while you slipped under the covers with him. His arms encircled you, holding you firmly against him. Even half-asleep, he looked so smug, now that he had you to hold on to instead of the pillow.
“Hey, FRIDAY, can you hit the lights?” you called out. The room went dark again, and you cuddled into Bucky’s chest, breathing in the scent of him. “Did you miss me?” you teased.
Bucky hummed, yawning so wide that you could see his canines. “Every day, doll.”