Work Text:
It was a late afternoon near the end of the summer at Avengers Academy, and though the sun still cast a blood-red blaze over the sky, a chilly breeze could be felt winding its way through campus. Alone on the chair in front of the Avengers dorm, Bucky Barnes, formerly the Winter Soldier of Hydra, sat forlornly. He gazed at the sky, its wide and empty expanses perfectly representing the emptiness and foreboding of darkness inside him.
A chill ran through Bucky as he contemplated his fate, as he had been for the last three hours and fifty-eight minutes. He still had trouble retaining short-term memories, and the long-term ones were spotty at best. Some days, he barely remembered Steve. Some days he didn’t even remember his own name. Always, he felt adrift, a castaway in this cold and cruel world, bereft of hope. He was alone.
Aside from Jessica and Luke making out on the couch next to him, Bucky was completely alone.
“There you are!”
Bucky looked down the path for the source of the outburst and froze.
On the outside, at least. On the inside, it felt as though all the glaciers in his heart were melting; like the blizzard that forever occupied his mind was beginning to calm, and sunlight was poking through.
The girl who paused before his chair had one golden arm and one brown arm propped on her hips. She was like the sun coming out after a thunderstorm. Her eyes blazed with all the heat and passion of a wildfire. She glared at Bucky, and he wanted to write her poetry.
“Well? What are you doing here?” she snapped when he said nothing.
“...Being alone,” Bucky answered.
“You were supposed to meet me at the quad two hours ago!” the girl told him, shaking her head in disbelief. “Whose bionic arm can chuck a football the farthest? Remember?”
“I… no,” Bucky admitted glumly. To imagine, that this incredible girl wanted to hang out with him! And he couldn’t remember it! Bucky truly was hopeless, doomed to suffering for eternity. He slumped in the armchair.
“Bucky?” the girl said softly. She stepped closer to his chair and reached out to him. Her brown hand brushed his hair, and Bucky wished he could capture the moment in a song and hold it close to his heart forever. “Are you okay?”
“Who are you?” he asked, looking up into her eyes breathlessly. In the dying sunlight, she glowed like a goddess of wisdom and desire. Bucky wanted to hear her sing.
In the heartbeat after he spoke, sadness claimed her features, and Bucky regretting imposing his curse on her.
“Oh, sweetheart. I’m Misty,” she told him. “Come with me to the Club. We’ll dance, and maybe it’ll help clear your head.”
She offered him a hand- the golden one. Bucky took it in his silver hand and she tugged him away from the chair. Misty brushed his hair back from his face and smiled.
“You gonna let me see that beautiful soul?” she asked quietly.
Bucky stared at her in surprised. “You want to hear my poetry?” Was she an angel?
For a moment, he thought her eyes had widened in fear, but then she smiled wider and he realized he must have been mistaken.
“Maybe later. Right now I’ll settle for a smile,” Misty teased.
Bucky gently wound his fingers through hers and gave it his best shot.