Chapter Text
James Buchanan Barnes was the military’s best sniper and the sergeant of an elite unit.
Bucky Barnes just wants his pants to fit.
It was a typical day, at least for Bucky. He started it during the early hours of the morning per usual, today he had slept in until 3:34 before he woke up. From there, he watched old television reruns, usually it’s I Love Lucy or Little House On The Prairie, until the sun rose. At seven, he gets up and takes a brief shower and gets dressed. Precisely at 7:15, he leaves his house to the Starbucks across the street and orders an iced frappuccino and a muffin, leaving just before the eight o’clock rush. The barista, Julie, smiles at him, as she has for the past year, and tells him to have a nice day.
At 8:30, he goes to his support group, led by Sam Wilson, a USAF Pararescue veteran and the kindest man he knows, and sits in silence as the people around him open up with their sob stories. He’s thinking about what he wants to do with the hour he has after this meeting before his physical therapy check-in when he is interrupted by his thoughts. “-do you have anything to add James?” Sam asks, his eyes calm and welcoming. Bucky shakes his head, trying to avoid the stares from the other people in the room, and slumps further into his seat as he tunes out the man beside him that starts to talk about losing one of his squad members. Everyone shifts their attention to the man talking, and Bucky lets his mind wander.
“Barnes” a gruff voice shouts over the comm, “We’re losing momentum, you have to go now or we’ll risk losing the lead.” Bucky was propped up on a roof, peeking through a minuscule viewfinder at his target, a man not much older than himself standing in a room. “I just need another second to line up the shot.” He mutters, to himself more than the men on the comm. As he makes the final adjustments, he pulls the trigger and effortlessly kills his target. On his headset, Bucky can hear his unit cheering. As he starts to put away his equipment he feels a sharp blow to the head and everything goes black.
As the meeting ends, Bucky is the first one to get up and he makes a beeline for the door. He sees Sam looking at him with a mixture of sympathy and also disappointment, Bucky shrugs off the look and leaves before he can change his mind. He grabs a hot dog from Matt the vendor outside the building and is walking away when his phone rings, it’s his mother and he hates these phone calls. “Hi Ma,” he says, his mouth full of relish and ketchup.
“James,” she says, “how are you dear?”
Bucky walks toward the park, “M’fine, how’re you?”
He hears her sighing on the other line, “Oh we’re fine, your father won the golf tournament at the club last weekend, the ladies and I finished that quilt we were working on.”
Bucky hums in response as he plops down on an isolated bench. “That sounds nice.”
“But James your father and I have been talking…” She continues, hesitant, “we really think that maybe you should see someone or talk to someone about, your time back.”
Bucky tenses, “Ma, you know I go to group therapy.”
“Yes, but maybe one-on-one, someone you can talk to about your personal life.” She pauses, “it’s just, you’ve been back nearly three years now, and you’ve changed so much honey, we’re worried about you, it’s hard losing so much time, and with the arm and everything, we just think you’d do better seeing someone to talk about it”
He snorts, “I take care of myself fine, and aren’t people supposed to change as they get older?”
Another pause, “yes of course dear, but the last time your father and I saw you it was like you were a whole new person, what with the hair and the added weigh-“
He cuts her off before she can say it, “Fine I’ll join a gym and get a haircut, will that make you happy?”
“Your father has the business card for someone he thinks will really be a great therapist to talk to honey, please give it a chance.” His mother pleads.
He hangs up without giving her an answer. Running his hands through his hair, he contemplates his options, choosing to instead finish the hot dog and giving it little thought.
At physical therapy, Tony, his physical therapist, readjusts a couple kinks in his prosthetic arm, although prosthetic may not be an appropriate definition. The arm was metal, and functioned like a normal arm, with some kinks here and there. Bucky had been with Tony since he’d returned, and sat through his bad jokes and puns in silence.
“So, you seem especially brooding today.” Tony says, as he tweaks a wire in the arm.
Bucky shrugs, as he does usually. He doesn’t like small talk. Tony looks at him before returning to his work, a couple minutes later, Bucky feels a pinch, he glares at Tony. Tony raises his hands in exasperation.
The rest of the hour goes by, near the end, Bucky is gathering his things while Tony reads back his evaluation for the day.
“So, everything looks fine, anything bothering you with the arm?”
Bucky thinks a moment, “It’s kind of getting heavier.” He says, “To carry around, I get a sore shoulder from it now.”
Tony makes a thoughtful noise, and looks through his notes a moment, “Well, seeing as the metal is made out of titanium, a lighter metal, it shouldn’t be heavier than normal. The only thing I can suggest is building up muscle to make the job of supporting the arm easier.”
Bucky inwardly grinds his teeth and nods. “See you next week.” He says, not bothering to hear what Tony says back.
He woke up in darkness. There was some conversation between two men, but Bucky couldn’t understand the language. The next thing that hit him was the pain. Everywhere ached, especially his head. He groaned involuntarily and saw the men coming toward him. They strapped him into a chair and he saw a needle go into his left arm and suddenly he felt like he was on fire.
.
As it turns out, there was a small gym a block away from his flat. And keeping true to his word, Bucky joins. It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed his clothes getting tighter and the gradual loss of definition and muscle tone, he was just avoiding dealing with it, the same way he had been avoiding all of his problems.
In this very moment, Bucky was cursing himself for avoiding it for such a long time. He was in the locker room tugging on gym shorts that were a tad tight. His shirt was off, and the movements of pulling up the shorts caused his stomach to jiggle. He was so enraptured by his efforts that he failed to notice the other man come in to the locker room. He heard a throat clear and looked up.
Standing before him was a man that could only be described as a descendant of the gods. His body was muscular and firm, his eyes a cornflower blue, and a golden head of hair. It was at this moment that Bucky realised two things. One, was that this man was the most beautiful man he had ever seen. And two, Bucky hadn’t put his shirt on yet and this Adonis of a man was staring at him.