Bucky seemed reticent at first when you suggested him accompanying you into town for supplies. He didn't have to say a word for you to pick it up and you knew exactly why. Town meant coming out of hiding, strangers, unfamiliar territory. It seemed like a recipe for disaster if you weren't careful. But you knew near total isolation wasn't going to help Bucky in the long run, and eventually he seemed to agree.
The morning you intended to go shopping, you found Bucky waiting for you in the living room. He was freshly shaved with his hair tied back from his face, leaning against the back of the couch as the cat rubbed her cheeks across the long sleeve of his flannel shirt covering his metal arm. The scene gave you a moment's pause; he'd never looked so… comfortable before. And it wasn't just the hand-me-down jeans and scuffed boots Sam and Steve had brought a couple weeks before, but the way his shoulders slacked and his face looked so soft with a little smile pulling at his lips as his fingers tugged the cat's ear. It was serene, peaceful, and you hated that your step on a creaky floorboard squashed the quiet of the moment. But he didn't jump, only looked up at you, and you had the sneaking suspicion he knew you were there watching him the whole time.
"Looks good," you smiled as you moved to lean next to him, gesturing to your cheeks as the cat bounded out of your way. "What's the occasion?'
He took a moment to run a hand thoughtfully over each of his bare cheeks, before answering. "I'm going with you today."
"Oh," you blinked, surprised. The two of you hadn't discussed it since the day before, so you hadn't been expecting that. "Are you sure? You don't have to if you don't feel up to it."
"I have to try," Bucky said with a slight tilt of his head.
"Yeah, okay," you nodded, fluent enough in his unspoken language to know he was calling back to your last post-nightmare conversation. Without thinking, you rested your fingers across the back of his metal ones. "But if gets to be too much for you, say the word and I will drop everything and get you home, okay? No toughing it out, no pushing yourself. You're allowed to be nervous and say you want to leave, alright?"
It took you a moment to realize that while he was nodding slightly, his eyes had dropped from your face to where your hand touched his. You could have kicked yourself. It hadn't occurred to you before then that maybe he didn't like being touched, least of all on his prosthetic, which he had every right to be sensitive about.
"I'm sorry," you offered, embarrassed. "I guess I shouldn't just-"
"No," Bucky replied, grabbing your hand gently before you could completely pull away. He glanced quickly at your face before giving a huff of breath. "I don't mind. You don't treat it different than any other hand. It's... comforting."
Not knowing what to say to the little confession, you entwined your fingers with his and when he looked up at your face, you smiled. "Let's eat breakfast. We shouldn't grocery shop on an empty stomach."
