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It’s a surprisingly warm fall day, especially in the English countryside. The open fields covered with tents and dining areas spanning at least a mile were occupied by hundreds of men and nurses. The sun shining high in the sky mixed with a light breeze from a warmth that’s not overpowering, a perfect day for men breaking off into teams to play a variety of sports activities. It’s nice to watch, nice to see that even amid a horrible war men can still find joy in the little things.
It’s also nice to be traveling with the same people, it makes the situation a little more bearable when you’re able to make friends. Because truthfully, no one is exactly sure where they are. They’ve bounced all around Europe which has made it hard for anyone to decipher their exact location. It’s a big confusing mess, especially for a new nurse diving headfirst into the middle of a war that was hard to wrap your head around.
You’re one of those nurses, sent to follow the 107th in their road to victory. It was a stressful move, one day you’re living your quiet life in Norwich with your mother with a dream to help people, and the next you’re getting shipped to Edinburgh to live out that dream. It’s scary, exciting, a whole mix of emotions that confuse you. But there’s no doubt in your mind that this is where you’re supposed to be.
Well, there is one doubt. And it’s towards one man, James Buchanan Barnes. He’s a flirt, a ladies' man, wooing every nurse in his path with a charming smile and a soft gaze. It’s never been pointed at you, and you can’t decide if that’s good or bad. See, while he is a smooth-talker, you can’t lie and say that he’s not handsome, because he is. He’s also frustratingly kind, always helping when he can, even if that means getting less sleep or skipping a meal. But one glance at him kissing another nurse, Marissa, inside one of the nurse’s tents solidifies your knowledge that he isn’t someone to pursue.
All of this comes to a headway as soon as you actually meet him, face to face. There was a commotion outside of your tent, a few yells and a dull thud followed by a pained groan. Minutes later he comes hobbling in accompanied by Dum Dum helping him. Something settles deep in your gut, something that makes you want to look away from him. You don’t, though, considering it is your job to help him.
“Hello beautiful,” Dum Dum says, always jokingly flirting with you to get you to smile. “Bucky here got tackled and might have hurt his side and he’s demanding medical intervention.”
Scoffing, Bucky shoots him a sideways glare before mumbling, “I fell.” Then, he’s holding out his hand, palm up.
“I’m Bucky, by the way.”
Hesitantly, you reach your hand out as well, offering your name with a slight timid waver in your voice. Surprisingly - although you really shouldn’t be considering his reputation - he lifts your hand to his lips to press a small kiss to your knuckles. A charming smile makes its way onto his face, and you can’t help the way yours heats up. But before he can get any mischievous ideas, you yank your hand away so you can gesture to the bed to your left.
Everything is confusing, you’re feeling butterflies starting to swarm in your stomach, but you push them away to the best of your ability to focus on your job.
“So, James -” He cuts you off with a scoff, telling you to call him Bucky . And you’re pretty sure he saw your eyes rolling by the way he chuckles. “So, James. How did you fall?”
This pulls another chuckle from Bucky, and you notice how his eyes glow due to the sun peeking into the open flaps of the tent. The way he sits with his head up and shoulders back gives the illusion of confidence. The radiance of his skin entices you to run your hands over his shoulders and chest, to feel his smooth skin beneath your fingertips. But again, you push it away, admonishing yourself for falling for his charms.
“We were playing football, and I just tripped.”
You hum, and you know he knows you don’t believe him. Grabbing bandages and ointment just in case, you walk towards him and place them on a small table next to the bed.
“Well, let me see your injury, please.”
And Bucky must not like how short you are with him, because it takes him a minute to recoup and lift his shirt, showing angry scratches, some of them bleeding. You make a sympathetically pained face while kneeling and reaching out to get a better look at his wounds. Running your fingers along his side, assessing the damage. Bucky hisses at the contact, recoiling slightly before settling back into place when you glare up at him.
“What’s the diagnosis, doc,” He says, his voice giving way to the ache he’s trying to suppress. You sigh, mumbling about how you’re not an actual doctor, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him smiling down at you.
“Well, lucky for you James, you’re not going to die.” This pulls a wider grin from him, one you can’t help but return with your own soft smile. “It’ll need some ointment, and I’ll put bandages over it, and you should be good as new.”
Pulling your hand away, you can’t help but miss the warmth his skin provided, the light spark of electricity that coursed through your veins. It’s not overwhelming, but it’s there. It’s enough to give you pause, to rethink your judgments. So, to take your mind off of it, you grab the necessary items and begin patching him up.
Every so often Bucky will hiss or groan, mostly from the antiseptic you used to wipe away the blood. But ten or so minutes later and you’re done, his wound patched and his gaze cast downwards to your face. And suddenly you’re very aware of the fact that you’re still kneeling at his feet, not quite in between his spread legs but close enough. And the look on Bucky’s face scares you, because he looks sincerely grateful for your help, and you’re not sure what to do.
You’re quick to stand and put some distance between you two, allowing Bucky to stand and giving him a stern look as you insist he is not to take off the bandage until he comes back to see you in a few days. And maybe that was a mistake, because your words only make his smile turn dopey, his eyes glued to yours as he takes your hand again and kisses your knuckles.
“Of course, doc.”
Those next three days pass quickly, but also not quick enough. Bucky’s smile remains ingrained in the back of your mind, his scorching hot touch is burnt into your skin, his presence lingering all around you. It also doesn’t help that Clarisse, your friend and fellow nurse, keeps teasing you over the interaction due to her eavesdropping.
The fourth day is when Bucky makes his way into your tent again. The same dopey smile greets you, the same butterflies fill your tummy when he kisses your knuckles, the same chuckle spills from his lips when you yank your hand away. It’s only been four days, and your will to diminish your feelings has grown stronger. Two days ago you heard of him and Marissa getting caught kissing again, and you were once again reminded that he’s nothing more than a playboy.
“Sit, James,” You say, gesturing to the bed and turning to get more antiseptic wipes and clean rags.
“You know, you could call me ‘Bucky’, doc.” His voice is smooth like honey, but your resolve remains strong, despite the lingering feeling of something scarily akin to infatuation.
“And you could stop calling me ‘doc’ but here we are,” You quip back, a smirk on your face as he flounders slightly. “Now lift your shirt.” This pulls a soft hum from deep within his chest, he winks up at you as he opens his mouth to speak but he’s quickly shut down by your stern glare.
Without talking, he brings his shirt up enough for you to inspect the bandage and you once again kneel at his feet and try to shake off the tension in the air. You work quickly and silently to remove the bandage, wipe it clean of the lingering ointment, and pat the area dry. Meanwhile, you keep your eyes on his side, fighting the urge to glance at his bare stomach and the slight patch of hair traveling from his navel to disappear under his pants.
Minutes later, you’re finished, and despite the raucous outside, you can’t miss his small, disappointed hum. Standing and stepping back, you don’t notice the bag only a foot behind you, causing you to trip and fall backward. But instead of landing on the hard ground, you’re pulled upwards into something warm and solid, your cheek pressed against the cool fabric. Your heart races, and thuds in your chest from the scare and the realization that you’re currently pressed against Bucky’s chest with his arms wrapped around you.
Time seems to stop, blood rushing to your head and drowning out any noise around you. You’re not too sure how long you stay like this, but Bucky’s arms tightening around you pull you from the trance placed upon you. In a rush to get away, you push him backward slightly while sidestepping to put distance between you two without tripping over the bag again. Shakily, you let out a slow breath and looked up at his confused face.
“Thank you for saving me from falling, but I - I need to clean so you should probably go.” Your words come out in a rush, and you duck your head down and walk towards the other side of the empty tent to start gathering dirty clothes and rags.
“Oh, um,” Bucky mutters, and with your back turned to him you miss the defeated look he carries. “Yeah, of course. Thanks for patching me up, doc.”
With that, he exits, leaving you to stew in your anxiety.
“Come on! He totally likes you!” Clarisse says, a little too loudly. Hurriedly placing your hand over her mouth and shushing her, you look around to see if anyone is eavesdropping on your conversation. Once you’re satisfied that no one heard her, you release your hold.
“No, he doesn’t. James is like that with all of the nurses,” Huffing, almost sadly, you turn in your seat to face your plate again. And you’re right, he is like that, charming the skirts off of any woman he lays his eyes on. And, yeah, maybe you’re being a bit unfair, but you tell yourself this over and over to prevent yourself from falling for his charms just like half of the nurses in this camp.
“ Please, ” She scoffs, shaking her head and grabbing your forearm in excitement. “It’s been, what, three weeks since that incident? He comes to you whenever he’s hurt, he’s even made up reasons to see you! You cannot tell me he doesn’t like you. And I know for a fact that you like him too.”
At that, you whip your head around again, desperately hoping yet again that no one heard her. With a hefty sigh, you shake your head furiously.
“I don’t like him, thank you very much. He’s annoying. And all he wants is to sleep with me, I’m not going to fall for his charms.” Hoping for the conversation to end quickly, you start shoveling food in your mouth as gracefully as possible, causing Clarisse to let out a cackle.
“Even if he does just want to sleep with you, what’s wrong with that? You’re a grown woman, you’re allowed to do what you want and not be shamed for it.”
“Because I don’t want that!” You snap, food now swallowed. “I don’t want to just be someone for another to find comfort in for just one night. I don’t want to be used for my body, it’s happened before and it broke me. I won’t let it happen again.”
With that, you grab your now empty plate and stand, leaving Clarisse at the table, shocked.
Soft, pillowy lips glide across yours, hot breath mingles with your own breathless gasp. The tension is overwhelming, you can’t make sense of anything except for the arms holding you tight and the slow but deep kisses bestowed upon your lips.
The hands start at your back and then move to your waist, gripping softly while pulling you even closer to the firm form you’re pressed against. Whimpers escape your lips only to be swallowed by whoever it is that’s kissing the life out of you. Tingles shoot down your spine, and you register faintly that your hands are gripping something soft - a shirt? It doesn’t matter right now. Because you feel warm, you feel loved and cherished, protected. Nothing bad could ever happen here.
All too soon, the body is pulling away from you, releasing you from its grasp, and that’s when you notice it’s him. Bucky. He’s smiling at you with that ever-present dopey smile and a soft gaze. His eyes are mesmerizing, a beautiful blue sea you want to drown in. And his smile, those full, kiss-swollen lips stretching across his face like he can’t believe you’re real. It’s overwhelming in the best way possible like nothing can touch you except for his love.
And oh, his love. You want to be suffocated with his love, with the bright and all-encompassing radiance he carries. Time isn’t real, nothing matters except for you two here. You want to stay in this moment forever.
Keeping eye contact, Bucky steps back into your space and leans down, his forehead hovering over yours. And it has you feeling dizzy, his smell permeating your senses yet again. After a soft and quick peck to your lips, he leans back just enough to be able to speak clearly.
“I love you.”
Gasping, you sit up in your cot, grasping the sheets and trying to control your breathing to not alert any of the other nurses sleeping next to you. It’s hard to do because the dream you had has you spiraling into anxiety. It’s too much, and you’re trying to convince yourself that the dream is because of your conversation with Clarisse earlier that day, nothing more.
You still can’t shake it though, the feeling of his lips ghosting over yours, his strong arms encompassing your entire being, the feeling of peace when he told you he loved you. Everything is too much, you’re so wound up that you have no choice but to quietly sneak out of your cot, slip on your shoes, grab a shawl, and slip out of the tent. A walk should do the trick, it’ll give you time to clear your head and your heart from the strangling hold you have on it to suppress your emotions.
And it does work, it’s silent save for the crickets chirping, giving a quiet ambiance that allows you to reaffirm to yourself that this was just a fluke, it’s not how you really feel. Of course, though, it doesn’t last long. It’s just your luck, running into the one man you didn’t want to see.
Bucky.
He’s sitting on the ground in front of one of the unlit fire pits simply staring into the sky. You quickly turn around, wanting to leave before he notices your presence. And in doing so, you walk into a bench which causes a soft clattering sound. Cursing yourself, you turn your head to find Bucky now looking at you. And you decide you can’t worm out of the situation easily, so you turn back to face him and give him a tight-lipped smile.
“Hello James,” You greet as you walk forward, wrapping the shawl around you further as if curling in on yourself.
“Hey doc,” He says back, a soft smile adorning his face. His hand reaches out towards you, prompting you to sit next to him. Which you do. Taking his hand, he steadies you as you crouch next to him and situate yourself with your knees pulled to your chest. Your hand, still in his grasp, is lifted towards his face to allow him to press a delicate kiss to your knuckles. This time, you don’t immediately pull away, too mesmerized by the serenity of the night. You allow the moment to prolong itself before you, ever so gently, release your hand from his grasp to place itself on the ground in between your bodies.
“What are you doing up this late?” You ask, turning your gaze upwards to see the millions of stars littering the sky.
“I could ask the same of you, doc,” Bucky playfully responds, leaning to knock his shoulder into yours. “But if you want to know…” He pauses, long enough for you to grow concerned and look back towards him with a solemn expression.
“I couldn’t sleep. Just kept thinking of my ma and my sister,” Bucky speaks quietly, as though it’s a secret of some sort, something to be kept between you two. “I miss them.”
And your heart pounds, you can see how hurt he is, and you can’t blame him. You miss your family too, immensely. While your chance of dying is low, his is much higher, so you can’t even imagine how he feels knowing his family is on the other side of the world worrying themselves over his well-being.
“I get that,” You whisper back, hoping to ease his pain. “I miss my family too. They live in Norwich, and I write to them as often as I can, but it doesn’t make their absence any better.” Pausing, you lean into him to knock your shoulder against his in a friendly, hopefully sympathetic manner.
“But they’re safe. And for me, that’s all that matters.”
Bucky nods, and you see his eyes glimmering with unshed tears as he looks at you, desperate for any form of comfort. Suddenly you’re painfully aware of your proximity, sitting maybe a foot apart with one of his hands settled a few inches from yours. Without thinking, your hand inches towards his slowly, assessing the situation before jumping in and resting your hand over his. This takes him by surprise, you can tell by the way his eyes grow wide and glance down.
Panic floods your veins, suddenly realize this might have been unwanted. But before you can pull away, Bucky’s hand turns over to hold yours, intertwining your fingers. You share soft smiles, a small moment of peace during probably the most traumatic months of your life. Everything is quiet for several minutes, the two of you simply enjoying the moment and the silence that offers an intimate setting.
“So,” Bucky speaks up, squeezing your hand gently as he pushes back the quiver in his voice. “Your family lives in Norwich?”
You laugh softly, nodding as you look back towards the sky.
“I’m guessing you’re asking because I don’t sound English,” You tease, straining your eyes to find different constellations. Bucky lets out a hum, confirming your thoughts. “That’s because I’m not. My mother’s new husband lives here. They met when I was younger because he liked to travel and ended up in Pennsylvania for a few months. I could tell they loved each other from the first moment I met him, so it wasn’t too hard of a decision for us to move here when his stay ended.”
A wide smile makes its way onto your face as you reminisce over your love for your family, how even though your step-father may not be biological, he’s still one of the most important men in your life. You tell Bucky this, how you want to find someone to love you as much as your step-father loves your mother. Every so often your free hand will shoot out to point towards the sky, telling Bucky of a constellation you’ve spotted.
Bucky stays quiet while you chatter on about your life, telling him of the adventures you had as a child and of the friends you’ve made over the years. But it’s not a rude silence, he’s listening. Intensely so. He offers small hums and a few one-word replies before he lets you take a detour from the conversation and lead into a different story.
The sky grows darker, the moon shines high in the sky letting you know that it’s probably nearing midnight. It feels like you’ve been sitting here for hours, trading life experiences and forming jokes that only you two will know the meaning of. After long, you finally turn your head to look at Bucky, who’s already staring back at you.
“Thank you,” Bucky murmurs, voice sincere and eyes shining with hope. You know why he’s thanking you, for your presence and comforting words that soothe his soul. Your smile widens slightly as you nod to him.
“There’s nothing to thank me for.”
At this moment, all judgment and perception of James Barnes disappears, and you see him for who he really is: just a kind soul looking for love. And now, you’re rethinking every negative thing you’ve ever thought of him, only thinking of how this could be a turning point for the both of you.
Maybe this could work.
Two weeks after your night with Bucky, things have definitely changed. You can feel your heart opening and making room for him to wiggle his way into. No longer do you push him away, instead of being cold and dismissive, you’re more open to his advances. Not by much though, you’re still wary of him considering his past escapades, and the fear of him using you still eats away at you at night.
But Bucky, ever the gentleman, hasn’t pushed too far. He’s very much aware of your trepidations, despite you not having voiced them, your body language is a clear giveaway. He’s been nothing short of respectful of your boundaries, only teasing and leading you gently into accepting him.
Your heart feels like it could burst with a mix of confusing emotions because while your concerns about him using you are still very much present, you know what you felt that night. You remember the feeling of being with him, his true self.
Again, it’s a confusing mess. Once you need help thinking out, and though he is the one you’re confused over, you decide to go to Bucky. Determined to talk to him and figure out how true he really is. You’ve noticed over the past three or four weeks that you haven’t heard anything about him and Marissa, or anything about him and any of the other women around the camp. And that’s what helps guide you to talk to him with an open mind.
Everything comes crashing down one night when you’re wandering the campgrounds and cleaning up any trash and disorganized messes. It’s not your job, and you know that, but your thoughts have plagued you too much for you to sleep. So, cleaning it is. And while cleaning you’re thinking over what to say to Bucky, how to approach the situation, and how to kindly tell him that if he’s just been joking then you would murder him.
You’re making your way towards his tent when you call out for him. And that’s when you hear it, the sound of lips smacking loudly. Everything stops, your heart pounding with anxiety and dread over what you could find. And though you’re sure of what it is, you can’t help but hurt yourself further by turning the corner to see Marissa pressed against Bucky’s front. Her hands are wrapped around his neck while his hang limp at his side.
A surprised gasp leaves your lips, your heart sinking into your stomach as you watch them step away and turn to you. Bucky’s eyes grow wide and concerned while Marissa looks smug as ever, her arms going to wrap around Bucky’s neck again in a possessive manner.
“It - It’s not what it looks like,” Bucky says, pushing Marissa away completely before rushing to your side. Shaking your head, you walk backward, putting distance between you two.
“I don’t care what it is,” You murmur tears blurring your vision as you rethink everything he’s ever said and done for you. How that night you shared was a lie, a trick. “I knew I shouldn’t have thought you had good intentions. I should’ve believed it when I told myself you were nothing but trouble.”
Your voice wavers towards the end, and you turn away quickly to escape the situation, the heartbreak. Nothing makes sense anymore, and the pain overwhelms you as you think of your last boyfriend, how he told you he loved you but ended up using you and tossing you aside, and how it’s happening again. You followed your heart when it told you to choose Bucky, and it ended with you in a mess of tears and self-loathing. And you decide on one thing.
It could never work with you two.
It’s been a week of avoiding Bucky, altering your schedule as much as allowed so you don’t have to face him. Clarisse threatened to castrate him when she found out, fuming when you came to her crying. Despite how much you would enjoy seeing that, you ultimately talked her out of it. You truly just wanted it to end, to never see Bucky again and live your life without him ruining everything. And so far it’s worked, avoiding Bucky at every chance you get and throwing yourself into extra shifts has mostly taken your mind off of what happened.
Clearly, the universe has other ideas for you.
A knock sounds out through your personal tent that you share with a few of the other nurses, the rapping against the wooden pole holding the front of the tent startling all of you. All eyes fall on the intruder, Bucky, and a few love-stricken smiles are thrown his way as well. He nods towards them, greeting them with a quick hello before fiddling with his hands as he asks to speak to you alone.
This takes you by surprise, more so than his nervous nature. Clarisse shares your tent and you don’t miss the hateful glare she throws at Bucky as she and the other two nurses leave to give you privacy. At this point, you’re just tired. You’re tired of his presence and of his lies.
“How can I help you, James?” Your voice comes out colder than intended, and you almost apologize when this results in Bucky frowning.
“Can we talk? Please?” It almost comes across as begging, and you half expect him to sink to his knees.
“We are talking.” Again, cold and uncaring.
Bucky sighs and hangs his head, seemingly thinking carefully before he speaks again. “I wanted to apologize.”
This gives you pause, your head tilting to the side as you consider whether or not to accept it. However, ultimately decides to remain silent to see if he can say anything else.
“I’m sorry for what you saw, and I swear on my life it wasn’t what you’re thinking. I didn’t kiss her, she came on to me. I broke things off with her weeks ago because I wanted you to see that I really do like you and I want this to work. But she’s been trying to get my attention even more lately, she told me it’s because she didn’t like how close we were getting and wanted me back. But I told her no, I’d found someone else. Someone that makes me happy, that makes me feel alive, someone that gives me hope for the future. And when we heard you coming, she threw herself at me. I swear I didn’t want it, I was just too surprised to move because I couldn’t wrap my head around everything.”
He’s nearly breathless by the time he finishes his monolog, his face flushed and red as his entire body practically shakes with anxiety. It only gets worse by your ongoing silence, your brain trying to catch up to everything he’s saying. And, to his credit, it does make sense. He didn’t look thrilled to be in her arms, more tense and confused. But you’re not giving in to him that easily.
“I’ve had my heart broken like this before,” You say harshly, arms crossing in front of you. “I was told that I was loved when in reality, all he wanted was my body. When he got his fill he pushed me away and fell into another woman’s arms. I was lied to and betrayed. And I refuse to let it happen again. I’m not going through that again.”
“It won’t! I won’t break your heart, you have to believe me. Please!” His desperation only grows with every passing second, but your mind is made up. Like you told him, you’re not letting that happen again.
“You already did.”
It becomes a staring contest, then. Both of you staring at each other, you willing him to leave while he wills you to take it back, to tell him you believe him and you’ll give him another chance. But you don’t speak for so long that he eventually hangs his head in resignation. Slowly, he backs up to the entrance of the tent, eyes flitting up to your pained face before looking back down.
“I’m sorry. I really am, doc. And I won’t bother you again.”
Then, he’s out of the tent, whisking himself away to who-knows-where to leave you with your head pounding and an ache in your heart.
It’s October, only a week after Bucky had turned your world upside down. And to his credit, he left you alone. He didn’t try talking to you, he even went out of his way to avoid you sometimes. And while that does help, you can’t help the nagging feeling deep in the pit of your stomach that just wants you to be with him, to give him another chance.
It’s been an internal battle, one half of your brain calmly telling you that he’s lying, he’s just trying to use you, don’t fall for it. The other half begs you to just accept his apology, please just accept it and let yourself be happy. Clarisse has offered her input at any chance she could get, having switched sides and practically on her knees and pleading for you to just give it a chance, Bucky wouldn’t hurt you like your last boyfriend.
But after this last week of contemplation, you decide to talk to him, even if he tries worming out of it. You’re determined to talk to him, if nothing else then for closure. That’s what you tell yourself, that you’re going to talk to him and let that be that, nothing else. Despite every fiber in your being still confused and angry, the part of you telling you to listen to him grows with every passing day.
You were planning on doing it after dinner tonight, that’s when Bucky and his unit are set to return. You’ve thought it all out, what you’re going to say and how you’re going to react to anything he might say. It’s practically a script that plays in your head over and over again.
Except, it’s just past dinner time and they haven’t arrived yet, and there’s chatter amongst the men and women about where they could be, hoping they’re okay. You’re currently sitting at the end of one of the tables, leg bouncing and heart racing with anxiety. The later it gets, the more worried you become. Despite being unsure about Bucky right now, you’d hate it if he was hurt. And as the sun starts to set and the moon rises higher in the sky, you conclude that they just had a setback, they’ll be back tomorrow, they have to be.
They don’t come back. Clarisse tells you this the next day, rushing into your tent with wild eyes while stuttering her way through telling you about how they were captured, how HYDRA had taken Bucky and his unit captive. The knowledge muddles your brain, blood rushing to your ears as your hearing fades and your eyes blur with tears.
Suddenly, Clarisse’s arms are wrapped around you, pulling you to her tightly as you cry into her shoulder. You hadn’t even realized you were crying, nor that you nearly collapsed with grief. All at once, you’re aware that you care about Bucky more than you ever would have admitted to yourself. It’s a painful realization, that you may not get to tell him how sorry you are for treating him so coldly and how you want him more than anything this life has to offer. But at this moment, the only thing you can think to do is pray to God that he’ll be okay, that he’ll return to you safely.
Weeks pass in a blur, like many of the men and women around camp, you’re lost in your thoughts over what could possibly be happening to Bucky, pleading to every higher power that he’ll be okay. Still, despite your fears, you continue your work as though nothing happened. You have to. No matter how broken up you are over the situation you were brought here for a purpose; to save lives. And that’s what you do, day in and day out you stay in the nurses' tent from the moment you wake up until the moment you have to sleep.
It’s a routine - wake up, eat, go to the tents, work through lunch, eat dinner, sleep. But as one week turns into two, and two into three, your worry only grows. Not necessarily over your own feelings, but wholeheartedly hating that Bucky and his men could be getting tortured, they could even be dead. You should be used to that last part, people dying. It’s just a part of your reality. But you’re not, you’ll never get used to it. Hearing of the men you’ve become friends with dies on the battlefield, watching as men trudge through the camp carrying their lifeless counterparts on cots.
You don’t think you could handle seeing Bucky like that.
“Hey, beautiful.”
The voice comes from behind you, startling you as you turn and see Dum-Dum standing a few feet from you. A small smile forms on your face, and you step forward into his open arms for a quick hug.
“We’re gonna get them back,” He says assuredly, squeezing you before letting you go.
“I know, if anyone can it’s you guys.” And you know the statement is true despite all these weeks with no real knowledge of their whereabouts. You have faith in them, you’re not going to give up hope.
“No.” His voice makes you pause, furrowing your brows and cocking your head to the side, and prompting him to continue. “I mean - Steve found out where they could be, we’re leaving in a few hours. We’re getting them back. ”
Relief floods your veins, knowing that they’ll be safe soon, Bucky will be safe soon. And you know that though things might be different, surely being held as Prisoners of War isn’t a not-traumatic experience. But you’ll do anything in your power to help them, to help him.
“O-okay,” You’re not sure what else to say, having not entirely processed the reality of his words. “You’ll be okay, right?”
“Of course, we will, and they will be too.” Dum Dum smiles, a soft, knowing look on his face that makes you want to roll your eyes, but you’re too grateful to do that.
A loud, booming voice calls out for him, and he curses under his breath before hugging you again and parting.
“Be careful!” You call, almost scolding.
He salutes you, then turns to jog out of the tent, leaving you standing in your place with your heart racing in fear and excitement.
It’s nearing mid-day, two days after Steve, Dum Dum, and several other men left to get Bucky and his unit back to safety. You’ve only grown more worried as the days pass, wondering if they too will not come back. They’ll come back. You constantly scold yourself, and your faith in their ability to do their job dwindles slowly before you hold your ground and remind yourself that they wouldn’t be in their positions if they couldn’t do their jobs.
They’ll come back.
You’re sitting at a table, food nearly neglected as your brain runs through scenario after scenario over what could possibly be happening. So lost in thought, that you don’t realize the commotion, the men and women shuffling around and yelling something about Steve and the unit and returning.
Then, it hits you. They’re back?
They’re back.
Your body moves on its own accord, stumbling your way off of the bench and running in the same direction as everyone else. It takes a few minutes, to push your way through bodies as they all start to cheer in happiness. You almost get knocked off your feet, and in the small gaps between everyone you’re able to catch a glimpse of matted brown curls. Then, you hear him yell out something about ‘ Captain America!’ as everyone starts cheering louder. With all of your might, you push through the last barrier standing between you and Bucky, and as your eyes land on his back, you can’t help but let out a surprised and happy gasp, almost a laugh.
The noise must have caught his attention, for he turns slightly, eyes going wide as he notices you standing mere feet away from him.
“Doc,” Bucky breathes out, a small smile forming on his face when suddenly, you’ve thrown yourself into his body, arms wrapping around his neck as he goes around your waist.
Neither of you is really able to hear anything other than your own heartbeats ringing in your ears, the sudden realization that Bucky is safe has your heart beating wildly in your chest and brings tears to your eyes.
Bucky’s chest rumbles against yours, and you recognize faintly that he’s talking to you. You only manage to catch the tail end of his sentence before removing your head from his shoulder so you can gaze into his eyes, tears threatening to spill as you frantically check for any major injuries.
“Doc, slow down.” Bucky laughs, turning your attention back to him once more.
“James…” That’s all you’re able to say, to think. And once again, your body acts on its own accord. You’re leaning up on your toes and pressing forward, your lips colliding with Bucky’s in a flurry of passion and fear of almost losing him.
His lips meet yours after a few seconds of shock, the hands on your waist traveling to your back and pulling you forward to press yourself flat against his chest, trying to morph your two beings into one.
Nothing else matters at this moment, only the two of you, safe in each other’s arms.