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patient zero

summary: you get an unknown virus, and Bucky is there to comfort you while you get the cure.

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

words: +1.5k

note: no warnings this time, just enjoy some fluff before i get in those episodes where i write heartbreaking things <3

It seemed like the room was spinning, shaking you until you felt again that urge to vomit that you hated so much. Your forehead, your hands, your back, you were completely covered in a thin layer of sweat even though the place you were in was quite cold. To counteract the effects, or so you had heard Banner say.

You hadn't moved from the corner you had made your new home since you entered the pod, mainly because moving involved a whiplash of pain throughout your body. It felt like your skin was burning, like you were on fire, and like your bones were breaking every time you tried to move. Just breathing was being a torture for you, and there were even moments when you purposely stopped inhaling in order to calm the physical agony you were going through.

You knew everyone was doing their best, but at that moment you just wanted to be able to hit them all so that they would hurry up even more.

You looked at your hands in your lap, one of your legs folded against your chest and the other stretched out on the floor. They were pale and trembling violently, and sweat glistened on each of your fingertips. You clenched them tightly, suppressing the exclamation of pain that wanted to come out of your mouth as you did so. It felt like you had hundreds of tiny needles embedding themselves in you at the same time.

“Don't move,” you heard Tony's voice, distorted through the speakers in the room, “We're almost there.”

You tilted your head to look at the mechanic with his back to you, with Banner in front of him and Dr. Cho on either side of him. The three of them were really focused on what they were doing, but from the distance you could barely decipher what it was.

They were making a cure, you heard from your subconscious.

Ah, right, the cure for the damn disease you'd caught and for which you now looked like a sack of jelly-like bones cowering from the world in one corner of the quarantine pod.

The mission was going well. They had captured the henchmen of the woman they were looking for and, although she had tried to escape, you had managed to tackle and handcuff her. Seeing her sitting on the floor against the wall, you remembered how you informed Steve that you had captured her and where you were. And just as you declared victory, the woman played her last ace up her sleeve.

“Next time, make sure you check the hands of whoever you capture,” she had said, and then you noticed a silver cylinder with a red button on it, which she obviously pressed without stopping to think about it.

The next thing you heard was the hissing and movement of machinery, and then a mist began to fill every space in the place. Although you tried to get out, it had already reached you and your throat quickly felt scratchy.

As you felt you were about to vomit your soul out, the woman added, “If you don't have the antidote, it's quite lethal. And, unfortunately, the cure stopped being produced a couple of months ago. Enjoy your last hours, child.”

And so you were locked in a glass capsule while the others tried to create an antidote before you died in agonising pain.

Just how you wanted to spend your weekend.

“Where is she?” you heard an agitated exclamation, and quickly recognised the voice.

“Bucky,” you said breathlessly.

You heard Tony's voice, scolding you surely, as you tried to move from the corner to get closer to the pod door. But you didn't move a foot when Bucky entered the lab. You watched his static figure for a few seconds in the doorway, blurry because you couldn't even see properly anymore, before he started moving to approach the side of the glass you were standing on.

“Honey, no, no, no, no,” Bucky repeated, his face contorting in concern, “Don't move, sweetheart. Hold still. That's it, like that.”

Getting back to your corner was martyrdom, but with Bucky's presence it felt a little more bearable.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured, having to strain to even speak properly, “I didn't mean to worry you.”

“It's okay, Y/N,” he assured you sweetly, his gaze sweeping over every part of your face as if he wanted to know how bad your pain was, “What matters now is that you stay as you are, try to move as little as possible. You have to save your strength.”

“I know,” you mumble, your breath escaping quickly, “I'm trying, but it hurts all over just breathing.”

“I understand, honey, but you're a strong woman. I know you can handle this.”

“You have more faith in me than I have in myself,” you commented with an attempt at a smile tugging at your lips.

“Well, one of us has to look out for you, and considering how little you care about your well being, that has to be me,” Bucky mimicked your smile although he fared much better.

You inwardly cursed that your vision was blurry and you couldn't get a good look at his features, or the beautiful smile he had just given you.

“What are you saying? If I care enough about myself.”

Bucky let out a short laugh, “Yeah, sometimes. Other times I have to make sure you've eaten or that you haven't gotten into some trouble by being distracted.”

“But those other times are very few. I don't need you as my babysitter,” you complained.

“Honestly, sweetheart, I don't know where you'd be right now if you didn't have me running after you.”

You let out a laugh, instantly regretting it as whiplash of pain shot through you from your chest to your lower back, and past all of your legs. Then a reflection of the pain began to throb in your head.

“Easy,” Bucky mused, stepping closer to the glass, “Tony's almost done.”

“Yes, kiddo. Hang in there a little longer,” you heard the aforementioned's voice, this time a little more agitated than last time.

You weren't even aware of how long it had been since you had inhaled that unknown substance until that moment, but it had felt like an eternity, especially locked in with that constant pain.

“Hey, Y/N, look at me,” Bucky spoke again. You looked up with difficulty as you took a big breath in through your mouth. For a moment of lucidity, you could observe his worried features once, his restless glittering eyes resting on every part of your face to make sure you weren't going through too much unbearable pain, “Remember what you wanted to tell me this morning? Before you left?”

You frowned, but quickly remembered that moment before you boarded the Quinjet with the others, your body jerking in nervousness and your hands clasped together so your fear wouldn't show.

“Oh, yes, I wanted to tell you that I love you,” you blurted out without thinking too much. Well, that had been easy, why were you so scared before?

Bucky felt the sound in the whole place stop for a few seconds. He watched your face, pale and completely oblivious to his anguish, unconcerned but discreetly contracted in a pain you were trying to hide. You were leaning with one of your shoulders against the white wall, as close as possible to the glass in front of him, who was sitting in a metal chair opposite you.

Your words echoed in his head, as if he had to repeat them to feel that you really meant them. He would never admit how much his breathing had quickened with your statement, or how fast his heart had begun to beat, or the warmth that had planted itself in his chest when you said... that.

He felt different. Like he had found something he didn't even know he was looking for; something he longed to have; something he felt he had been missing for a long time.

He felt different. He felt... at home.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Bucky mused, nervous for the first time, watching you closely with your eyes closed and breathing steady.

“I know,” was your reply.

Bucky raised his eyebrows and then frowned. Suddenly, he was fully aware of the noise of his surroundings, hearing Banner asking for a needle and Tony exclaiming that he had it in front of himself on the silver tray.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Your lips curved unconsciously into a smile, which you tried to wipe off in time because of the pain it caused you.

“Don't give it too much thought, Buck. The important thing is that we've already said it, and before my death.”

“You're not going to die,” Bucky exclaimed quickly, his hands coming to rest in front of the glass.

“No one's going to die tonight!” Tony imprecated as he moved through the lab.

Bucky watched him get a white suit, surely to enter the capsule and avoid any possible contagion. A sigh of relief left him when he saw that Bruce had the antidote injection ready.

He turned his gaze to yours, finding you squinting to get a good look at him. A smile escaped his lips. You moved once more, causing a grimace of pain on your face that Bucky wished he could erase by pulling you into his body, but he knew that would only cause you pain. Just standing there watching you suffer was proving to be martyrdom.

“Do they have the cure yet?” you asked weakly.

“Yes, Y/N.”

“And what's taking them so long?” you raised your voice, intending for the scientists to hear you. Your chest vibrated in pain and you brought one of your hands to where your heart was.

“Try putting on one of these suits in less than three minutes. It's a Guinness record,” Tony spoke as he walked past Bucky, heading towards the double doors of the pod.

“Then I seriously won't die tonight,” you mused, staring at Bucky's blurred figure.

“No, honey.”

“I'll have more time to listen to you say you love me,” you commented with a smile, “And you'll have to get used to hearing it from me, because I'll repeat it until you're tired of it.”

“I don't think I can get tired of you telling me you love me, sweetheart.”

“That's good. That's... very good,” you blurted out forcibly.

“Okay, couple in love, injection time.”

Bucky watched you grimace as Stark knelt down beside you and took your arm as gently as he could, but it didn't stop you from still feeling a rush of pain.

“I'm not going after bad guys with biological weapons again.”

Tony let out a laugh, “Chances are you won't be getting out of here for a while. We need to see how your body reacts and if there will be any side effects.”

“What, aren't those studies supposed to be done first?”

“You wanted us to go through all that while you were here agonising over your death?”

You didn't answer the millionaire, but only because a sense of peace had just washed over your body, making its way through every part of you. You felt like you were lying on a cloud, when you were probably settled in the worst possible position.

“Bucky?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to stay with me?”

“Always, sweetheart.”

edited! in case you want to take another look at it 💕

ivy

summary: you have to accept your fate as the wife of another man while the one you love decides to step back.

pairing: royal!au bucky barnes x reader (around 1800's)

words: +2.5k

warnings: very angsty? that's the word, isn't it? highly inspired by ivy (taylor swift always right) and i am not surprised. English is not my native language, so sorry for any mistakes! also, i'll probably edit this later, and add a few things to it. i only wrote this at midnight and I'm half asleep. EDITED! :)

that's it, hope you like it!

i'd live and die for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time so tell me to run or dare to sit and watch what we'll become

The ballroom was more crowded than you would expect. People were moving around, laughing and dancing as best they could to the melody that echoed loudly from the band playing at the back of the hall. The sound of clinking glasses and laughing eyes were a constant under your gaze, sharp but cautious, as well as haughty and tense, waiting. Just waiting.

You couldn't stop moving around the room. You encountered countless new faces every time you turned a corner of the castle. It was definitely a huge party, surely worthy of celebrating an event of such magnitude as the one that day. Despite your reluctance to hold such a (gigantic) gathering, you were quickly convinced by the people you lived with in that place, who easily persuaded you by pointing out all the advantages that such a big celebration could bring to the town: besides generating more unity as all the people of the kingdom were present, it was also the perfect opportunity to create political and commercial ties with the regents of the neighbouring kingdoms.

It was, quite simply, the perfect moment for everything and everyone.

Except for you.

The engagement celebration party.

Your engagement to the new king of Anderland, Steven Rogers.

That morning went by too fast. Your mother showed up too early in your chambers, exclaiming that it was the big day where news of such magnitude would be made public and that you were surely entirely happy about what was soon to happen. Marrying Steve, the great and compassionate King Steve. Yes, it was a great event for the kingdom and the reputation of your father's legacy. Your sister, the ruthless Natasha, had appeared in your room in the same manner as your mother with a big smile on her face, and behind her her entourage of professional make-up artists who were going to fix you up for the rest of the morning, the Black Widows.

But the truth was, no, you were not entirely happy. And that fact, if they ever noticed it, was completely overlooked by your mother and Natasha, and even your father, to whom you were closest. It was only a few hours later, minutes before the great feast was to begin, that one person could see the misfortune you were trying to hide in the dull gleam of your eyes.

The Duchess of Vandurness, Wanda Maximoff. Your best friend and only confidante, the only one who truly knew the whole truth.

"By the gods. I haven't seen you this down since Roy passed away," Wanda commented as soon as she entered your room and noticed the dull expression that adorned your face, trying unsuccessfully to cheer you up after reminding you of your dog's death a couple of months ago, "Sorry, bad choice of words."

She approached you with a sympathetic expression, as if she could understand the pain that tightened your chest and the helplessness that left a lump in your throat, but the truth was you didn't know if she could understand.

"I know it's not the big moment you were expecting, nor with whom you were expecting it, but the faster it happens the less strong the pain will be. I promise."

And it was a lie. Of course it was. Wanda didn't lie often, mainly because she wasn't good at it, but when it happened you used to hold on tightly to that lie, because you preferred it to the agonizing grief that would come with accepting the raw truth.

The beginning of the night was hard, amidst fake smiles and hundreds of congratulations from both the townspeople and the kings of the nearby kingdoms. The sight of the pile of dresses swaying to the music and your family pretending that everything was perfect as they chatted animatedly with Steve and his parents, made you terribly anxious because you knew that, when the day was over, there would be no turning back. After that night, your days would be numbered and there would be no escape from the destiny that had been forcibly and fiercely marked in the book of your life.

A destiny in which you were marrying Steve, and not the man you truly loved.

Bucky.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?" You heard Steve's voice before you felt his arm around your waist. You lifted your head to watch his blue eyes sparkle under the chandeliers with a confessed adoration for your person, "You've been walking all over the place for a while now."

"Yeah, all good," you quickly replied and returned your gaze to the crowd of couples dancing animatedly, "I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed. There are too many people."

"Sure," Steve exclaimed, as if he had suddenly remembered how much you disliked being around people for so long, especially in celebration of an event that caused you nothing but torture, but he couldn't know that, "If you want, I can ask Wanda to escort you to your quarters. I saw her a few seconds ago talking to..."

"Steve," you interrupted him when he had raised his head to try to look for Wanda in the crowd, "No need. I'll take a walk around the courtyard."

"You sure? I can walk with you..."

"I'll be fine, I can take care of myself."

Steve's hand, the one that wasn't around your waist, held your hand as you gave him a tight-mouthed smile. He believed you without hesitation. Of course he did, he always did. He slowly approached your face, not taking his gaze from yours for several seconds, until his lips made contact with yours for a few brief seconds, as if he had all the time in the world to do better later.

His hand squeezed your waist lightly before he let go and gave you a deeply enamoured smile before pulling away and starting to walk to the Stark family table, one of the most important ones. The king, Tony, and Steve had a good relationship, both in battle and when it came to sitting down to talk business or just mundane things like planning a festival in their respective kingdoms to celebrate their recent business union. You could tell he was one of the few people Steve considered a friend.

You averted your gaze as your future husband took a seat between Tony and his wife, and took a deep breath which, for familiar reasons, caused a burning in your chest that you had been trying to control for months.

You began to make your way to the gold decorated glass door that led to a grand stone staircase adorned with beautiful green bushes, freshly trimmed that morning, with breathtaking floral arrangements.

As you finished descending the steps, you noticed Wanda seated to the left of the exit along with her brother, Duke Pietro Maximoff. Their gazes focused on your figure as you stopped to watch them, both so condescending and kind, willing to turn a blind eye as you walked to the back of the courtyard, knowing the way by heart. Walking with the same speed and emotion as hundreds of times before, days in a row and nights on the run, burning with the pain of stolen moments and tight-mouthed smiles full of anguish; expressions that tried to hide an affliction that they tried to appease with the warmth of two bodies.

A fiery grief that would never be extinguished.

"Bucky," you whispered like a prayer, watching the man through the window of the small gardening house where he spent most of his time, "Bucky."

You opened the door with a little more force than usual, and the man was elated for a few seconds. When your gaze met his, a bitter feeling welled up in his chest, and you felt the same sourness pass through your body as he turned his gaze to the ground refusing to continue to look at something that could never be his. Something that did not belong to him, nor something he would belong to.

You approached slowly, closing the door behind you, always bolted. You watched his body tense as you were too close to be able to brush his body with a breath. So close to love and so far from accepting the truth.

"The flowers are beautiful," was the only thing that could come out of your mouth, as you felt a burning in your eyes that you were sadly familiar with, "I would never have imagined that dahlias and lilies would create such a sight to behold as you arranged them."

Bucky felt a shiver run through his body as he heard your voice crack. The temptation to raise his hands so that he could shelter you in his arms, trying to drown out and drive away the grief that also gripped him at those moments. But he couldn't... he shouldn't.

You raised one of your hands to rest on his shoulder, and though you knew he wanted to repel the gesture, he did not. He held still as you ran your fingers up and down the material of his shirt.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, choking back a sob.

"It's not your fault."

"I could have objected, I can make my own decisions."

"You couldn't have done anything. You couldn't change the decisions that were made before you were born."

The man turned his face to look at you, your eyes crystalline like dewdrops on flowers and the ground after a rainy day. His eyes narrowed as he tried to contain his suffering as you freely expressed it, because he did not want to collapse in front of you. He had always been the strong one, he couldn't let himself be defeated at that moment.

"I should have tried harder," you try to excuse yourself, but Bucky was already shaking his head in denial.

"There was nothing we could do. That's how it was supposed to happen."

His cold hand took yours, squeezing it a little as if that way he could appease the aching clamour of your need to be with him. Of him being the man you would soon marry, the one to put that ring on your finger, on the hand he held so tightly, as if just letting go of it meant he had to let you go forever; let you go with someone who wasn't him, and that was totally unacceptable.

"It's not fair. I don't understand why my father wouldn't listen to me. There's nothing he won't do for me, why not this time... not...?"

"Steve is a good man, Y/N, he'll know how to take care of you."

"No, no, no..." you shook your head repeatedly, trying to get the idea that you would spend the rest of your life with a man you didn't love out of your mind, "Don't you dare, Barnes."

"We've spent so much time pushing our luck, I feel like we're already running out."

"You started this! If we're burning now it's because of you, and now you don't want to do anything about it," your voice sounded desperate, trying to find a way out of this little war in which they had no chance of winning.

"The best thing we can do is to leave it here, just go our separate ways from now on. We can't risk it any more."

"You told me this wouldn't happen," your eyes quickly blurred with tears that expressed the uneasiness that haunted your stability like a threat, "And you said - you said if this happened, we'd leave. You said we'd leave! You said you weren't going to leave me alone."

"We can't do that. We'd spend our whole lives running away."

"So what of it?"

"Running away to survive isn't life, Y/N."

The fire that burned in the pit of your stomach didn't subside, it only seemed to grow hotter with every word that came out of the mouth of the man in front of you. The man who had promised you a life and was now tearing it all apart in front of you like a tiny sheet of paper.

You couldn't stop the sobs that came out of your mouth, that tried to give sound to the unbearable pain you felt knowing that there was nothing to fight for now.

A broken heart.

"You're a coward," you managed to say, then abruptly pulled your hands away from his. The look of rage and anger you gave him froze him for a few seconds, trying to understand that he had caused it with his insecurities and his infinite fear of ruining your life, "You said you weren't going to leave," your voice came out as a broken whisper, a sentence you repeated to try to convince yourself that what was happening couldn't be true.

"I'm doing what I think is best for you."

"What's best for me?" you exclaimed, incredulously. It seemed that the man in front of you was not the same man who smiled at you every morning when you had your clandestine meetings, lamenting the loss of his dreams, his promises and the living. "What's best for me is to be with you, Bucky! Not with Steve, not with my parents, not in this castle. If you're not here none of this will be worth it in the end."

"I can't give you what you need, or what you deserve. You're not going to have a good life with me."

"It's going to be a good life just by being with you."

Bucky pursed his lips, his eyes glazing over just like yours the first time you spoke. He was afraid to speak for a few seconds, feeling his breath hitch with every sullen breath he took trying to calm the runaway beating of his heart. His heart, which rejected everything that came out of his mouth.

The feeling of despair mixed with helplessness took over his resignation and he was quickly trying to find a way to make you see reason. To let you know that really this, all this suffering, was for the welfare of both of you. His lack and inadequacy of words made him feel incapable of anything for a moment. His world was falling apart.

"What are we supposed to do if he found out? He'd destroy this damn castle!"

You cringed as Bucky turned away from you and ran his hands through his dark hair. His exalted voice hadn't surprised you, you'd heard him angry a couple of times before, but that voice had never been directed at you with such rage and impotence. He had never looked at you the way he did now: scared, desperate and fearful of what might happen, whether you would continue all this from the shadows, as always, or whether you would decide to run away and not look back, knowing that you would live with a sign marked on your back with someone chasing you wherever you set foot.

And, sadly, he was right.

"I can't do this, Y/N, it's too... painful."

"But you can't just walk away. I'm covered in you. I'm your half and you're mine. Wherever we go, a part of the other is always going to be incomplete."

"Then I will rejoice in the knowledge that someday our halves will meet again, and be united as they once were."

His eyes watched you resignedly, and though you wanted to yell at him to try to talk some sense into him, you knew he was too stubborn. You took no comfort in knowing that he would suffer if he left, because you would be the same. At least he would have his freedom, he could freely start a life with whomever he wanted the moment he left this realm, but what about you? You would have to start a life, as queen, hand in hand with someone to whom you cannot, nor will you ever be able to, return the love he professes for you.

The adoration with which you looked at Bucky, how your hands worshipped him as if he were some kind of mythological god and how your body reacted to his, was something you could never give to Steve. It was something you could never give to anyone else you were with after Bucky.

He broke you. Something in you died that night as you watched him resign himself to losing the fight he'd started, but wasn't capable of fighting even because it was tearing him apart inside.

"There's still a chance we may never see each other again," you murmured reluctantly, and his gaze met yours. The pain his gaze reflected was a mirror image of yours, and his shoulders slumped as he weighed the possibility he had not wanted to think about.

"Then we will meet where spirit meets bone."

His voice was a low, raspy whisper, out of tune with the speed at which his chest moved with his breathing. Unlike his body, straight and tense, his eyes said everything his heart truly felt, even though he knew he felt the same emptiness in his chest as you did. The emptiness of knowing you're going to lose what you love the most without being able to do anything about it.

You weren't ready for this. You weren't ready to give up, but you couldn't stand alone fighting for a lost cause, when a relationship like yours stands strong when they run hand in hand.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you knew there was no turning back.

"In a land forgotten by faith."

Bucky shook his head in denial, frantic because he knew what would happen next, but reluctant to stop you from making the one decision he had allowed you to make.

You moved quickly to him, and cradled his pain-stricken face. Your thumbs moved gently over his cheeks and he closed his eyes, enjoying your touch. The last he would feel, surely for the rest of his life.

"Goddamn, Barnes," you muttered closing your eyes and resting your forehead on his, "I should never have let you in. But how was I supposed to know?"

Your breaths hitched for a few seconds, as they did every time you lay down on the makeshift bed in that little cottage, just staring at the sky through the glass that adorned the ceiling thinking of the endless possibilities they would have if this wasn't their destiny.

"I'm sorry," was all he said. And certainly the last thing you would hear from his lips for the rest of your life.

-----

i didn't intend to end it here, but sleep overcame my ideas and my inspiration, sorry! edited!

your blog sucks

you should see my life

(in)dispensable

summary: reader is discouraged, somewhat depressed, and Bucky tries to cheer her up in a way that doesn't seem like that's what he's trying to do.

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

words: +2.7k

warnings: thoughts of abandonment, suicide and self-loathing (if you feel this way, please seek help, you are loved<3). you know, English is not my native language so sorry for any mistakes!

note: it really fascinates me how therapeutic it is to write and let out what you think and what you want. and definitely with Bucky it's all 10000% better.

thanks for the support and hope you like it!

The city, from the farthest and highest point of the mountain, looked like a small drop of water falling on glass in the rain. It was a small glistening speck that seemed to fit on the surface of a finger, making you believe that it was possible to have an existence of an indispensable magnitude. But, at the same time, reminding you that being so far away as to see it so small -the city- only made you dispensable. You would raise your hand, mesmerised, drawing in the air the surroundings of that jungle of buildings, a faithful believer in the idea that you belonged to something, or someone, in that bright blur where you lived most of the day when you didn't have a mission to go to.

The truth was that, apart from your constant appearance at Avengers HQ or your inconsequential presence on some silly -and too lively for your liking- outings that your old college buddies put together, and on which you ended up only because one person, the only one you considered your true friend out of all of them, always convinced you to accompany her wherever she went. Those really weren't the best outings in the world, with those people just trying to convince themselves that they were still young and rebellious with no responsibilities other than studying, but just knowing that your friend always wanted you to be there made you feel different; as if you were really indispensable in someone's life.

Life had become really hard in the last few years; years in which you couldn't help but feel more and more lonely even though you were surrounded by people, even though you were surrounded by your family and friends. It was as if being with them was the equivalent of being locked in a soundproof room, with no sound coming out and no sound going in. Did people really listen to what you were saying? Did people really care about anything other than you doing your duties? Had they ever wondered if your dark circles under your eyes were really from lack of sleep? If the pallor on your face was because, in an act of lazy rebellion, you hadn't wanted to eat, or because you just didn't feel like it anymore? Had they ever wondered if you had any motivation to go on?

Did they really care?

The rustling of some branches behind you as a result of being crushed by someone's shoe brought you back to the reality in which that shiny spot was a blurred spot due to the amount of tears that gathered behind your eyes. Tears that wanted to come out so desperately, but you refused because no one could really know what was going on in your head. No, ironically, they would be scared away.

You didn't need to turn around to find out who had approached you while you were on night watch. You had been distracted for a moment, but you were capable enough to sense a threat from miles away. And the only threat you sensed was Bucky Barnes, coercing you to uncover that feeling you thought you were hiding too well for the well-being of everyone around you. Because you could carry that feeling and that regret, but they couldn't; it didn't matter if they didn't seem to realise it now, in the end it would be far more disastrous for them than for you. You still couldn't be that selfish...

His sturdy body planted itself to your right, mimicking your cross-legged position. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that he similarly stood watching the city from afar, probably trying to decipher what you saw in it that had you so captivated. But it wasn't the possibilities, it was the lack of them.

Your back, leaning against a small tree, arched imperceptibly to anyone's eyes, but not to his. For some reason and in some way, Bucky had learned to read and openly perceive your body's reactions to anything, good or bad. He could always decipher when you wanted to run out of a place or when you were so comfortable in a place that you didn't care if people were touching you, or if there were too many people to breathe. He had learned to read your body language in a way that often scared you, because you weren't entirely sure what it implied.

When he turned his head to look at your profile, the one solitary tear you couldn't stop rolled slowly down your cheek, as if it had been waiting for just the right moment for him to see it and notice.

But Bucky didn't come closer, he just kept his gaze on your face, because you knew he knew you didn't want him around at that moment. Maybe a little, yes, enough to keep you company, but not enough to comfort you.

Suddenly, you heard Natasha's laughter diagonal to where you were sitting where they had set up the tents for the night, and then it was followed by Tony's voice, who was claiming credit for creating a new nickname for Steve.

You frowned and blinked rapidly, but without moving you commented, "They're awake," you didn't know if it sounded like an accusation or a question.

"As of a few minutes ago. It's just dawn," Bucky replied instantly. His body shifted slightly to settle on the grass so he could reach over to grab one of the dry leaves above him, and you couldn't help but tense up briefly thinking he was going to approach you, "Last time you went on a watch as long as this you fell asleep within the next hour. Did you bring a hidden energizer or something?"

His tone was jocular but gentle, discreetly direct inquiring about the unspoken likelihood that it was impossible for you to have spent all seven hours awake at will. And it was true, you used to fall asleep in every place as long as you had the chance. But it was also true that there were times when you were simply sleep-deprived; you had no way of falling into the whistles of the starry night in order to have a pleasant rest. Why? It was a constant worry.

"I think I was really looking forward to Tony losing the bet against Steve. It would be a first," you confessed, though it wasn't entirely true, and you were absolutely certain that Bucky knew it. The tone of your voice came out more muffled and strained than you had imagined, so you settled back into position and cleared your throat.

"What, they bet?" Bucky smiled as he turned to look at you with a new dry leaf between his fingers. You nodded slightly to him as you looked out over the city, and as the dark blue sky began to dissipate to make way for a beautiful orange hue, "Well, it was lucky for me that I wasn't there. I would have lost that bet."

"Would you have bet against me, Barnes?" you smiled through closed lips, the first smile to escape you that week.

Bucky took a few seconds to respond.

"Can you blame me for that? I told you, you always fall asleep on these watches."

You sighed, feeling a little lightness in your shoulders as the morning continued to take its way into the sky, "You have to have a little more faith in me, as well as Steve."

"Steve would never win a bet even if the odds were 99% positive."

You let out a light chuckle, still not turning to look at the man, "Then I guess he's having a run of good luck right now. You should ask him for a number to play the lottery."

Bucky twisted his lips, his gaze fixed on the shamrock he had just plucked from the ground, "That would be tempting fate."

You turned to look at him, finally. His head snapped up instinctively and his eyes connected with yours as if he'd been on autopilot, which, upon feeling your gaze on his body, reacted instantly. He had shifted position while you were talking, and now his body was positioned sideways, but right in front of yours, with his back to the rest of the team who were still standing up.

You were amused by the thought that, if it weren't for you, they would probably all have had to sleep on the ground, wrapped in their own coats and surrounded by dirt and insects. You knew, from the moment Stark briefed them before they left for HQ, that they would not make it in the Quinjet before it ran out of fuel. Due to some mishaps, they had to extend the journey to their destination so that the fuel tank had become unbalanced and, oddly enough, they had not packed any more spares that time. Luckily, the place where they had been staying had a promotion on sleeping tents at twelve dollars each. You didn't hesitate for a second to take several and pay for them.

So, thanks to you, everyone had been able to have a good night.

Well, everyone except you.

Bucky's eyes went to your hands, which were clasped in your lap with a small branch between your fingers. His gaze expressed what his mouth didn't want to utter, because you knew he didn't want to scare you, let alone make you feel uncomfortable in this very moment of vulnerability. But he didn't want you to be alone either.

You uncrossed your legs, stretching them out in front of you, and raised a hand in his direction. He didn't hesitate for a second, trusting your willingness, to take it and move closer to you.

"I was thinking we could go eat at that Italian restaurant tonight," Bucky posed as he intertwined his fingers with yours. You moved your head until it rested on his shoulder and he, feeling your body relax against his, rested his head on the crown of your head.

As his thumb began to draw circles on your hand, you allowed yourself to close your eyes to enjoy his affection. You allowed yourself for a second to think that this was a good thing, something you deserved and that he was willing to give you without expecting much in return. A situation that really applied to the case, but you were too stubborn to want to accept it that way.

"That sounds good," you murmured, ducking your head to where his neck and shoulder met, causing you to have to scoot closer and snuggle closer to him.

These moments, this whole moment since he appeared, were the most precious to you. Not only the fact that Bucky cared enough to come close and try to cheer you up, but also the fact that he waited for you to feel comfortable in his company, when you were feeling so depressed, and then he would come to you and try to draw you closer and let you melt into him as much as you could and wanted to, because he knew that, even if you were reluctant at first, you were only frightened by the idea of him being too close in your moments of weakness. That was a wall he had not yet completely broken through, but he knew not to tear it down, but only to wait patiently for you to remove each of the bricks that separated you, as you began to become more familiar with his presence and his caresses, which were totally foreign to you.

It had been a long time since anyone had cared for you in this way, and what you feared most of all was that they would walk away because they were tired of trying to understand you. It was a pretty justified fear, considering how many people had walked away from your life. And you remembered each one of them; their mannerisms and ways of talking, whether they liked salty food or sweet juices, or whether they'd rather spend a day climbing a mountain or go shopping all afternoon. You could remember every single thing about them that had left a mark on you, whether it was good or bad, but what hurt the most was knowing that they didn't remember anything about you. That you were just that, totally dispensable.

Yet, strangely, it wasn't like that with Bucky. And that was what scared you, what made you always defensive. And it also scared you that he might get tired of it, but it had been so long ago that, if he truly wanted to leave, he would have done so long ago.

"Just us or do you want to take the others?"

You noticed Bucky tense slightly, but he instantly relaxed his body and sighed, "I'd rather it was just us, but if you want them to go..."

"No," you interrupted him quickly, "More than two is a crowd."

His shoulder, and the half of his body you were leaning on, shook with briefness as he let out a laugh. His hand gave yours a squeeze before he brought it to his face and planted a kiss on each of your knuckles.

"We can also order takeout, from your flat, and watch a movie."

You smiled against his neck openly, and Bucky felt your cheeks twitch causing a flutter in his chest and a current throughout his body. An immeasurable happiness stabbed into him from that instant and he hoped it wouldn't go away too soon.

"That sounds better, honestly," you admitted without wiping away the expression of happiness and unable to hide that the tension on your body and mind had disappeared at a slow pace since he arrived, but certainly effective in the end. As always, "We could watch The Hobbit. Steve told me you liked the book since it came out."

Bucky put a grimace on his face that, for obvious reasons, you failed to notice, "We could also watch Game of Thrones."

Your head snapped away from his shoulder like a spring and you watched him with a frown. Bucky felt his heart stop for a moment and resume its march at a faster pace than usual. Had he ruined it already?

"Who told you about Game of Thrones?"

"Natasha," he replied, confused by your reaction, "Sh told me that you had started it but hadn't finished it yet. I thought- we could watch it together."

A few seconds passed during which you weighed the possibility very carefully, so many that Bucky felt that at any moment you would throw your arm around him and walk off back to where the rest of the team was, leaving him lying there with a bitter feeling in his chest.

"Is that a bad idea?" he asked, fearful of your answer.

You turned to look at him with a frown, and promptly shook your head, "No, it's not that. I just didn't think it was the kind of content you'd want to see."

Bucky took a deep breath before replying, "Why? It's set in, like, the same setting as Lord of the Rings, right?"

You pursed your lips, "Well, yeah... but- did you even see the trailers?"

"The what?"

You smiled broadly at him and denied tersely, "We'll talk about it better when we get back to the Complex, okay?"

"Natasha said it was a good series," Bucky commented with a frown.

"I'm not saying it wasn't. I just think she left out a few important details."

"Like what?"

Your mouth went dry for a few seconds as you watched his eyes glitter in curiosity and intrigue. It seemed like the very fact that you were putting him on the spot about watching that series with him made him want to push harder to make it happen. And because you knew yourself, you were going to give in. At the end of the day, he was sticking to the consequences.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Tony's exclamation stopped you from answering Bucky, though you certainly hadn't even thought about what to say, "Our transport is coming. Move it or you're going to have to learn to live with these beetles."

You watched the mechanic turn around to once again approach the place where everyone was already packing up their tents. A sigh escaped you, and you couldn't help but wonder at what point it dawned so quickly.

Bucky's hand did not leave yours as you stood up and helped him do the same.

His other hand, equally hidden by his black leather gloves, cradled your face and you inevitably leaned into his touch. His eyes scanned every part of your face, as if trying to make sure that everything was all right, that you really did look better, not just because you didn't want to worry him, but because you felt it inside you. You knew he didn't want a feigned emotion, and because for that very reason it wouldn't take him long to realise that you were lying to him, you didn't bother to do so.

When his scrutiny of the expressions on your face left him unsatisfied, he asked with his face contracted in ill-concealed anguish, "Feeling better?"

You smiled at him before saying, "Yes, Bucky."

Your hand released his, but only so that you could wrap your arms around his neck and draw him into an embrace that, though it caught him off guard, he was quick to reciprocate. It was as if his body reacted automatically to your body's actions. Bucky relaxed his shoulders and melted into this display of affection as if he was hungry for your touch and wanted to enjoy every second of it. He breathed in your scent of vanilla and coconut essence that he felt made him dizzy with adoration every time he sensed it near, but that in turn was how he wanted to feel every time he was near you.

At home.

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, pretty girl."

You gave him one last squeeze before breaking away and taking his hand again to start walking towards where the others were.

Bucky had a goofy grin on his face, which was the equivalent of your tilted lips and slumped shoulders, which might be very little to anyone's eye, but not to Bucky's. To him, that was everything.

"But seriously, are you going to tell me what's wrong with Game of Thrones?"

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