Archive of Our Own

A giggle escaped your lips before you threw a quick glance around the room to check if anyone had noticed. For the past five minutes, you’d been staring at the bobblehead on your desk as it bounced away at your command.

The small figurine springing up and down depicted Sam in his Falcon suit as he wielded the shield. With a head half the size of his body, toy Sam was in a constant state of battle, perpetually fierce-faced and determined, and sporting a roughly drawn Sharpie mustache.

When Bucky had gifted it to you on a mundane Wednesday evening, claiming he’d spotted it through the window of a novelty shop, he told you to be as liberal as you wanted in defacing it with mustaches and missing teeth and whatever else your imagination came up with. It remained at your station on the thirty-fifth floor of the renovated Triskelion, devoid of any markings until Bucky, freshly briefed on an upcoming mission, sauntered into the open area and to your desk, inspected the toy between his fingers as you watched with silent curiosity, and pulled out a black marker from your pencil cup before etching out his own design.

He’d placed it back on the desk, tossing you a small, secretive smile. Then, without a single word, he’d turned in the opposite direction and left.

Fast forward half a year, and he and Sam were away on their latest mission.

Before they left, you’d crossed paths in the corridor. Heading in your direction, Bucky was dressed in his black tactical gear, silver arm gleaming underneath the fluorescent lights. It wasn’t just his bulk but his entire presence that had him towering over you.

“Not going to tell me where you’re headed?” you’d asked with a smirk. You knew he couldn’t.

“Classified. Sorry.” His smirk was even drier.

“Well, safe journey.” Then, checking to make sure the hall was empty, you pulled him in for a hug. Not a barely-there hug with little feeling, the kind you might give to be polite or if you were in a rush, but an honest, heartfelt hug. Two fronts flush against each other, two pairs of arms holding the other body tightly to theirs.

He was so solid and warm. Sturdy. Masculine. Pressed up against him like that, you felt like nothing bad in the world could get to you.

Like home, something in you whispered.

Before you could give that sudden thought any more consideration, you extracted yourself from the cage of his arms. They were slow to leave your body.

“Try not to get in too much trouble.” Your heart was suddenly racing in the privacy of your ribcage where you were thankful he couldn’t hear.

The way the corner of his mouth tilted up into a wry smile made you think he knew anyway. “Can’t make any promises.”

They’d been gone for about two weeks. Nothing unusual. They were strong and skilled and often returned unscathed, so it wouldn’t have been unreasonable of you not to worry.

Then you got the call.

Sam’s name appeared on your cell phone. It was on silent and just happened to be on your desk after you’d checked it for something else. Brows drawn together, you picked up.

“Sam?”

Sam spoke your name on the other end. “Hey, yeah, it’s me.”

You were relieved, perhaps irrationally, to hear it was, in fact, him on the other end. “What is it? Aren’t you still out on your mission?” A churning feeling had suddenly taken root in your stomach.

Sam said your name again, followed by a pause, and then, “He’s hurt.”

Your heart turned to stone. “What?”

“There was an RPG—”

“A what?”

“He was in a helicopter, there was someone he had to transport—look, I shouldn’t even be telling you this right now. Point is, he’s already in the hospital. He’s in recovery now.”

“What? Where? Sam, what happened?” You were unseeing, unthinking.

“Hey, listen, breathe. Everything’s all right. He was in country at first, but he’s been transferred back to D.C.” His tone softened. “Listen, I know you don’t want to hear this, but things could’ve gone a lot worse. He may be a grouchy SOB and a more than occasional pain in my ass, but he’s a tough guy. He’ll be okay.” He paused. “I’m sorry for having to be the one to let you know, but I…I just figured you’re the first one he’d want to have know.”

“Have you gone to see him?”

“No. I had to get debriefed after I got back and my hands have been tied ever since. You’re the first one he’ll be seeing.”

“Okay, Sam, um…” You ran a trembling hand through your hair, trying to temper your breathing. “Thanks for letting me know. Where is he?”

After he gave the name of the hospital and a few pithy words of comfort and reassurance, you hung up.

You couldn’t even remember if you closed your workstation up properly. Everything was a blur. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Your muscles shook with the effort it took to collect your things and felt like lead under your skin. Your chest felt as though someone had squeezed it in a vise-like grip and lit it on fire.

Making it across the city at the height of rush hour was no easy task, but when you finally swept past the double doors leading into the appropriate recovery wing, nothing else was of consequence.

Please be okay please be okay Bucky please—

Your feet took you into the room without your even registering it, and you stopped short.

Before you, Bucky was laid out on a standard hospital bed looking so vulnerable your heart just about shattered.

Mottled bruises dotted his face. A couple of bandages were there as well, one across his right cheekbone and the other above his eyebrow. Brown hair thick and slightly tangled rested atop the pillow and a couple weeks’ worth of stubble decorated the lower half of his face. His left eye looked significantly worse than the right and you could tell it was almost swollen shut at one point. His arms lay limp on top of the sheets, the silver of his left arm duller in the dimmed light of the room.

He looked right at you. Then, in a croaking voice, he said your name.

The sound sucked you right out of your stupor. “Bucky?”

“I really look that messed up? Can’t tell it’s me anymore?”

It put you just the tiniest bit at ease that he was in a state where he could make jokes.

“I’m not goin’ to bite. Get over here.” His voice was still hoarse, but he seemed to have recovered his faculties for the most part. He’d probably been awake for some time before you arrived.

“Oh my god, Bucky.” Breathing out a sigh of worry and immense relief, you raced to his side, overcome with the terrible need to embrace him.

Though you badly wanted to hold him as tightly as you needed, you were instead forced to hover over him with light, careful pressure to his body, face nearly digging into the side of his neck. Just the feel of him underneath your searching hands, the proof that he was back to you, for all intents and purposes, safe and sound was proving to be enough.

When you pulled away, he seemed as bereft of your touch as you were his. With a swift pull of the nearby chair so that it sat alongside the bed, you took a seat and rested a comforting hand on Bucky’s arm, as much for your sake as it was for his. Soft blue eyes shone back.

“Hey, Bucky,” you said with what you hoped was a reassuring smile.

“C’mon, don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Cry. I don’t like seeing it.”

You swiped under your eyes. Your fingers came away wet.

You wiped at your nose with your sleeve and rolled your eyes. “I’ll cry if I want to, Bucky. If you want to stop me, you’ll have to quit going around almost getting yourself killed all the time.”

Except this was the only time it’d been bad enough to land him in a hospital bed.

“Whatever you heard, it wasn’t as bad as they made it out to be,” he said, stubbornness managing to seep into his tone.

“And what exactly have I heard?”

“You tell me.”

You paused. He had to know you were serious. “What happened, Bucky?”

He let his head loll back so that he gazed out ahead. “Honestly. It was nothing. A simple transport. Sam was off taking care of some other business and we were going to meet up at the rendezvous point later. Then the doc I was moving started having a seizure in the seat next to me. Had to take care of him and maintain control over the chopper. Guess I got close enough for those guys hiding on the ground.”

“God, where were you?”

He closed his eyes in apparent frustration, though it seemed to cause him a bit of pain, and shook his head. His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “Look, it wasn’t a big deal. They may have wanted the doc, but their aim was piss poor and they only caught the tail. I managed to call Sam to fly over and pull him out mid-air.”

“And you were just left to come crashing to the ground?”

“Sam couldn’t carry out both of us. Got thrown around a good bit while the chopper hurtled through the air, but I jumped out before it made impact.”

“You jumped out? From what height?” The reprimanding disbelief was clear in your voice.

He threw you a look that said you knew full well just how much wear and tear he could take.

You were amazed the damage wasn’t worse. It was true he was sturdier than the average person by far because of the serum, but he was far from invincible.

“I can’t believe you did that, Bucky!”

“What’d you want me to do? Brace for impact and hope for the best?”

Could he have survived such a crash? Was he built for that? Were his chances actually better just jumping out? You didn’t know.

“Bucky, you—you can’t do stuff like that.” You were up and out of your seat, pacing absently and raking tense fingers through your hair. You were hopped up on a terrifying, indescribable bag of emotions and you didn’t know how to handle it.

“Babe, relax, I’m fine.”

It took you a second to register what he’d called you. When it hit you, you turned still for a long moment. Then you looked at him.

He’d caught his mistake too. But with pensive eyes cast down, he made no move to amend his speech.

There was that burning sensation in your chest again. That roiling in your stomach. But unlike before, it wasn’t unpleasant.

And all of a sudden, you knew the reason.

“Bucky—”

“Don’t.” Still avoiding eye contact, he cleared his throat and gritted his teeth.

“Bucky,” you tried again, moving closer.

“Seriously.” The firmness of his tone stopped you in your tracks. “Don’t.”

“Bucky,” you said more desperately this time. Paying no heed to his attempts at scaring you off, you approached his side once again, taking his flesh hand in yours without thought.

There was that sensation of warmth again, the same as when you’d hugged him in the hallway at HQ. The same as what you’d always felt around him.

“You idiot.” The affection in your tone softened your words.

He looked at you then, masked uncertainty bleeding into the temporarily marred lines of his face. He was waiting for what you had to say next. But the words wouldn’t come.

Nearly two and a half years ago by the lake, when Steve had all but revealed Bucky’s feelings toward you…what had he seen? Were they merely fanciful delusions on his part? Or observations that rang true that you’d yet to see?

The seeds were already planted. Had taken root long ago at an indeterminable point in time. Bucky noticing you, watching you, eyes flickering away whenever you caught him staring, always with that look on his face, once unreadable but now understood to be longing.

Bucky still and silent as he took in your voice and your words, never judging but always listening and making you feel not just less alone but understood, like you belonged. Bucky inviting you into his apartment, asking you to stay when you knew he usually couldn’t wait for others to leave.

Bucky, once broken but recovering, showing himself to you in the truest way he could—by leaving his heart in your hands, even knowing yours was still locked away.

All the little moments became clear. Not just the ones from him to you, but the other way around. All those moments you dared not to address. The ones where your gaze landed on him for just a little too long and you found yourself imagining what he’d smell like if you were to snuggle up to him at that exact moment and dig your face into his thermal shirt. What it might be like to hold him and plant a kiss on those lips, all the while wondering if those lips were really as soft as they appeared.

You remembered all those times where you’d stood in repressed awe at the beauty that could be perceived by your eyes and the beauty that couldn’t. The way your heart reacted every time he set those big blue eyes on you, and you knowing that when he looked at you, he saw you.

They were incredibly knowing eyes, behind them a harsh profundity that intimidated you. In them, there was sadness and pain and a razor-sharp intelligence that told you he saw everything and missed nothing.

Beneath that strong body, coursing through his veins like a rushing river, was an immense inner life so rich and intense you doubted you’d ever be privy to its true magnitude.

Did that river ever find rest?

For nearly two years, you’d known. Known that this man loved you. Even when you loved another.

And still, he said nothing. Expected nothing. After decades of being alone and having nothing in the world, he’d still somehow allowed himself that vulnerability. Those feelings that must have seemed so foreign to him after all that time.

Maybe it was true he never said anything because he knew of your feelings for Steve. But maybe he never told you because he no longer knew what it was to live a life where he could put himself first. He’d been programmed to live and fight for others, never himself.

Maybe he wouldn’t have told you even if he was just another guy who’d never been experimented on and had gone on to live a regular life. Maybe he still would’ve been selfless enough to let you go because even though his long-forgotten heart was with you, yours was with someone else.

But Steve had moved on. That much was clear.

And day by day, slowly, without your knowing it, you had come to do the same.

And one day, when you decide you’re ready, you’ll find someone else to share that beautiful love with. Someone who will take your heart with all the care and respect it deserves and mend it, Steve had said.

There was a time when you couldn’t see yourself ever giving your heart away again. You’d always been guarded and slow to open yourself to others. The chances of finding all that again and getting back to that level of emotion were slim to none.

It was no small thing to truly know someone. And like a strong oak tree, fixed and immovable, Bucky was always there. Knowing you, and you knowing him.

He loved you, and only when you thought you’d almost lost him did you realize you were dangerously on your way to loving him too.

But were you strong enough to love a man like him? To harbor your own pain and take on his? Could you take such a leap with him?

But it was never your choice. You had the choice to walk away or stay.

But not the choice of loving him. Such things just happened.

You looked down to where your thumb stroked his hand, apprehension marking your features. “Are you okay, Bucky? Doing what you do?”

When he didn’t answer, you lifted your gaze to meet his. He simply watched you, trying his best to maintain those defenses. But somewhere in there, you caught the tail end of his unspoken plea.

I’m lost, it said. Please, tell me what to do. Tell me what to do about us.

You gave him a small, sad smile. “No one’s going to blame you if you cut and run. If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it. The most important thing is to take care of yourself.”

After a long silence, he finally spoke. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Please, Bucky, maybe you just need…maybe you just need to rest. You know, take some time to figure out what you want. The world will still be here when you get back.”

He peered at you with those too-sharp eyes. “Why are you saying this? Why are you trying to get me to step down?”

It took some time for your voice to work. “I can’t lose you too, Bucky. Not again. Not after—”

Not after I’ve already lost people and you turned to dust and I was without you for five whole years.

“You’re worth too much to me, and I can be very selfish, remember?” you said instead. “So you’re not leaving me, not if I can help it, you got that?”

His expression turned less guarded. That river running through his veins was housing some strong emotions. He wanted to say something. Very badly, you could tell.

“Don’t remember you always being this bossy.”

“Well, I don’t always get phone calls telling me you’ve been hurt, now do I?” you countered.

He chuckled soundlessly. “Feels nice.” He quickly picked up on your confusion. “You carin’ about me. Someone givin’ a shit about me.”

Your heart sank. “Don’t say that.”

“Why? It’s true, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not and you know it.”

He looked away, jaw taut. You squeezed his hand.

“Bucky, look at me. It’s not true. How could you ever think that? You really still believe that?” Something in you splintered at the thought.

“Well, listen,” he said, “point is, they made me a lot tougher than you think.” His expression softened when he looked back at you. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Funny thing—telling someone they don’t have to worry somehow doesn’t magically make them not worry.”

“God, you’ve been hanging out with Steve too much. He’s rubbing off on you. That level of stubbornness can’t be good for anyone.”

You shut your eyes. What could you say? How could you let him know the depths of what you felt for him?

He squeezed your hand to get you to look at him. “Hey, chin up, agent. I’ll be back on my feet in no time. I’m already itchin’ to get outta here as it is.”

“Oh, no you don’t, Bucky Barnes, you’re staying right here until you’re fully recovered. I’ll sit on you if I have to. Don’t think I won’t.”

A tired smile slowly appeared on his lips. You could tell he was fighting back his drooping lids.

“Go ahead and sleep, Bucky. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Don’t have to do that.” He was steadily succumbing to sleep.

“Too bad, I’m doing it anyway. But you need to rest.” With a pat to his hand, you attempted to slip your hand from his in order to readjust the chair nearby.

His hand immediately tightened around yours, keeping you in place. His eyes had drifted shut.

“Stay.”

You traced his features with a gaze quickly turned tender and whispered, “Of course.”

A quick glance at the time told you that you still had plenty of time before visiting hours were over. The loveseat behind you seemed like a good place for a more prolonged rest, but you didn’t want to leave the warm comfort of Bucky’s side just yet.

Judging by the large hand still wrapped resolutely around yours, he didn’t want you to either.

You resettled into the chair and sat in contented silence. You were sure Bucky was sleeping soundly next to you. But then he spoke, eyes still shut.

“I still remember this one night, you know. It was years ago, on New Year’s Eve. I was in Wakanda, I was on the mend, and for a while there I almost thought things would be okay. You and Steve and all the rest of you were off in God knows where doing God knows what, and for whatever reason, you still decided to come visit.”

You remembered, of course. You’d been on the run for about half a year, deciding to seek temporary refuge in Wakanda where you knew you’d be accepted. It was just to be for the holidays before you all hit the road—or rather, air—again. The accommodations were lovely as expected, but it was seeing Bucky that had really made the trip worth it to you and Steve.

“Before midnight rolled around, folks were celebrating down in the street all throughout the city, and you somehow managed to convince me to come join you,” he continued. “Lights and music were everywhere. The whole city was lit up. You dragged me around from corner to corner, plying me with all sorts of food and random gifts you picked up at the stalls. You were so tired, but your eyes were so full of life that night. Then we saw this mother and her son. They were ahead of us on the street and the boy must’ve been separated from his mother, and when they reunited he clung to her like his life depended on it. Maybe it did. Then I looked over at you and your eyes were shining. You looked up at me, smiling, like you were embarrassed to be crying or something. You looked so unbelievably shy about it and I wanted to just kiss it right out of you. I wanted to just pull you right over to me and kiss you. Then I realized that wasn’t the first time I wanted to do something like that. Far from it.”

You’d stopped breathing by that point.

“You’re always in my head, you know.” His speech tapered off as he tried to combat the oncoming sleep. “Even when I wish you weren’t, you’re always there. I don’t know what you did to me, babe, but it scares me. Wasn’t supposed to feel like this ever again. Like…” A soft sigh escaped his lips. “Like a man in love. ’Cause that’s what it is, isn’t it? Long time now. But you knew that.”

“Bucky.” You looked down to keep the fresh tears at bay.

“You’re crying again.”

You looked back up to find his sleepy eyes open again. “I’m always crying, aren’t I?”

“Would it make me a horrible man to say I like it that you cry for me? That a part of me likes that you care enough, and that another part of me wants to rip the world apart piece by piece for ever making you feel that way?”

The fervent warmth in your chest blossomed to spread all throughout your body.

“Shh,” you whispered. “You need to rest. Go to sleep.”

“Got to let you know,” he murmured, eyes drifting shut. “Got to let you know…I…”

“I know.” You squeezed his hand lightly. “I know.”

Your hands were still entwined as he slept.

When his breathing grew deep and even, you brought his hand to your lips and pressed a kiss to the bruised and battered skin. Then you laid your cheek along the back of his hand and closed your eyes, seeking more of the feel of his skin against yours.

You hadn’t planned on falling asleep like that, but it’d been a long day and the evening’s revelations had left you emotionally drained.

You’d close your eyes for just a minute and then leave for the loveseat along the wall.

One minute.

Just one minute…

When you stirred awake, it was from a faraway dream of unnaturally strong fingers brushing across your hair.

Your neck ached from the uncomfortable angle, but you were feeling slightly more rested. As you blinked the bleariness away and lifted your head, metal fingers gently glided away from your temple. Bucky had been brushing the hair back from your face as you woke.

His watchful blue eyes stared calmly back at you. You were suddenly more aware than ever that your hands were still entangled.

“Hey,” you greeted carefully, voice a little rough from sleep.

“Hey.”

“How long was I out?” You checked your watch. “It’s almost 9 already?”

“Nurse came in a couple times and still you were out cold.” He sounded amused.

“Yeah, well, it’s been a long day,” you muttered.

“Go home. No use sitting around here in a lonely hospital room when you could be comfortable sleeping in your own bed.”

“Bold of you to assume my bed’s comfortable.”

He was only a little amused.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said. “Not until they kick me out.”

He hummed low in his throat. “Always so loyal. Maybe I should get hurt more often.”

You fixed him with a stern look. “Don’t push your luck.”

He laughed dryly at that, and his smile was breathtakingly beautiful. “Yes, ma’am.”

A strange silence filled the air. You sat there wondering what on earth you could say next, while he’d taken to stroking your hand with his thumb.

“Bucky, I…” You stopped and started several times. “I…”

“You…?” He raised a brow, sounding far too cocky for someone who was currently confined to a hospital bed.

You swallowed. “I…”

“Hey.” He gave your hand a light squeeze and you looked at him. He didn’t sound so cocky anymore. “It’s just me.”

Your heart was going to burst out of your ribcage, it was pounding so fast.

It was him.

But it wasn’t just him. It could never be just him.

You were on your feet in a flash and your lips were on his before either of you could process it.

Mindful of his injuries, you kissed him gently, but it didn’t take long before he was kissing you back. And with the way he kissed you, he didn’t seem to care so much about his injuries.

You let your instincts and emotions take over, pouring everything you had into this man who’d been through so much. Too much.

One arm locked tightly around your back while his metal hand clutched the back of your neck, holding you to him like he never intended to let you go. You wished he wasn’t on his back if only so that you could entangle yourself with him the way you wanted and feel the hard, masculine lines of his body against yours. The way he sat himself forward to better reach your lips made up for it some.

The sensual slide of his lips and tongue against yours had you soon aching for more. You sensed a deep hunger in his kiss, one so fierce and whose depths you were unsure of that it almost frightened you.

Tonight, that hunger was finally being sated.

Not sated enough, though, it seemed.

When you pulled away, his heated hands didn’t let up from where they lay on your body, and his lips chased yours as you reluctantly retreated. He got in one last pull of your lips before he drew back by the bare minimum, heavy breath mingling with yours. His hand remained around your neck, fingers tangled up in your hair.

Dimly, you registered that his heart rate on the monitor was going crazy.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have done that,” you said, breathless and heavy with want.

The tip of his forehead remained on yours and his pupil-blown eyes, hooded with lust, looked down at your mouth. “I’m thinking you should’ve.”

For a while, there was nothing but the sound of you catching your breath and the caress over your cheek as he cradled your face in his hand.

“Why?” was all he asked, voice gruff. The muscles in his jaw ticked. His hunger was definitely not sated.

“Because,” you said. “Because I see it now. So clearly.”

“What?”

“Me falling in love with you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw still working overtime. “You can’t say things like that to me.”

“Why not?”

“How can you?” He opened his eyes. “I’m a killer. A monster.”

“Shh.” You traced his cheekbone, pain filling up your heart. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think that.”

“Burying your head in the sand won’t make it any less true. You honestly see yourself ever loving someone like me?”

“But you don’t get to decide who I love, Bucky. That’s not up to you.”

He let out a short, humorless chuckle and took the hand that was on his cheek. He planted a kiss on your palm. Then, as though he’d decided to let go of that can of worms for the time being, he lay back on the bed, keeping your hand in his.

“I really should get hurt more often, huh?” he said dryly.

You rolled your eyes, unable to fight back the rush of emotions swelling in your chest.

He looked at you calmly, but you sensed that coursing river underneath. “You’re really out to get me, you know that?”

You looked back in confusion.

“Between all the things you say, the way you look at me…” His gaze flickered to your lips. “That mouth…I’m a goner. Always have been. Never had a chance in hell.”

You were feeling so light it was a wonder you hadn’t floated off into space. “Poor fella.”

“Rather be a poor fella with nothing material in the world than a rich man who doesn’t know the touch of the woman he loves.”

The woman he loves.

“Wow—well, what a line,” you said. “I definitely see how you were quite the ‘ladies’ man’ back in the day.”

“Only one lady I see here right now, and she’s the only one I’ll be wanting.”

Your heart skittered dangerously. You brought his hand up again to nuzzle it. “Thank you, Bucky.” You needed to tell him. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

“I never expected anything, you know. It wasn’t my place. But for you…well, you already know how far gone I am when it comes to you. I’d’ve waited as long as it took.”

You shook your head. “I don’t deserve that. And you deserve more.”

“Too late, you already kissed me. No take-backs. And right now, I’m past thinking about what I do or don’t deserve, so don’t make me go and change my mind after all that convincing. All I know is I got what I want right here in front of me and I ain’t planning on letting go of it anytime soon.”

The declaration had you burning from the inside out. You nodded gently. “Okay.”

What you saw behind his eyes stole your breath away. It was that river again, this time still and undisturbed, but always so deep, like it was at peace.

It was the one that would lead you home.

He gazed back steadily, and with that compass of his pointing you north, he nodded. “Okay.”