Hey, it's my first writing in almost 2 years. Inspired by the song Snuff by Slipknot and Bucky's new hair cut.
It was late as you made your way to the common room you shared with what was left of the Avengers. The compound was eerily quiet and your anxiety was keeping you from being able to be in your room comfortably. The common room was where you always ended up when your anxiety got the best of you—it was still left how Tony had it, clean and tidy everything in its place, Steve's books were left on the one shelf and hadn't been touched since he decided to have his second chance with Peggy in the past, Nat's game console had the last game she played still in the system—no one had touched it since; even Vis's chair still had the indent where he sat. If you didn't think about it too hard it was almost like they weren't gone completely.
You checked the glowing numbers on your phone as you sunk onto the sofa, pulling your legs underneath you, and double-checked there hadn't been any missed communication from Sam, Bucky, or the others.
Nothing.
Your heart sank as the anxiety made it race; you hated being alone.
Being alone allowed your mind to wander—wandering back to discovering your powers, back to HYDRA experiments…back to when your HYRDA scientist parents sold you to their organization to make more soldiers.
After Wanda had joined with the Avengers she knew a few of their secret locations and where others like you and she had been kept. Most of them refused to renounce HYDRA—but you found something comforting in the team.
It wasn't fair you only had a few years with them.
Your phone vibrated in your lap, Sam's name flashed as you answered.
"Hey, I didn't wake you up did I?" It was loud where ever he was but you could tell he wasn't working anymore.
"Can't sleep. Where are you?"
"We finished the mission a while ago we decided to go out to celebrate."
A bar, the noise made sense.
"Everyone? When will you guys get back?"
"Buck isn't back yet? He split from us a right after the job; I figured he was going straight home."
"Not yet, and I haven't heard from him." You tried to keep the anxiety out of your voice but you couldn't fool him.
"Do you want me to head back?"
'No, it's okay, I'm sure he will be here soon."
You quickly said goodbye and hung up. Sam hardly got time to blow off steam and you didn't want to worry him. You weren't surprised that Bucky didn't join them at the bar, you were, however, surprised that he wasn't home yet.
Bucky.
When Steve first brought him back from Wakanda after everything you weren't sure if he was ready to be part of the team yet. But after Steve left you had your suspicions' that Steve brought him there so you would have each other. It didn't take long before you both were best friends, even though at times you had wished it could be more, you knew Bucky wasn't there, and would likely never be after everything he had been through.
Shit.
Your anxiety was reaching its peak. You hadn't realized you had been twirling and tugging at your hair until you noticed you had a headache.
Shoving your hands beneath you, you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing—the only trick that Tony taught you that you could remember at the moment.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four…
A rustling at the bar at the back of the common room woke you.
"Bucky?" You asked sleepily, sitting up from where you ended up curled on the couch.
"Yeah it's me; sorry I was trying to be quiet." You heard ice clinking in a glass and the sound of liquid being poured.
"Its okay, what time is it?"
Bucky paused; you guessed he was swallowing his drink, "Almost 3."
"Where have you been?" You asked getting up, "And what did you do?" You stopped short once you realized what you were seeing. Bucky, standing in the bar, empty glass in hand, hair cropped short.
"I felt like I needed a change." He shrugged, pouring himself another drink, "Something to remind me of the old, confident Bucky Barnes, and not Winter Soldier. Before everything went sideways."
You were still dumbstruck and as you made your way to the bar Bucky finished his second drink.
"Do you hate it?" Bucky asked slowly, a small smirk on his face.
How many times had you thought of getting your fingers tangled in his hair? It was almost as though your hands couldn't believe it had missed out on the opportunity either because before you realized what you were doing you had reached up to touch his hair.
When Bucky flinched you remembered; he didn't like being touched.
"Sorry." You pulled your hand back quickly, shoving both of them in your pockets.
You knew how he felt. Years of being poked, prodded, just shy of being tortured by HYDRA made it so you didn't want to be touched either—and Bucky had gone through far worse than you.
Bucky shook his head, set his glass down on the counter a little too hard.
"It's okay," He said quietly, "That's what I'm trying to remember."
"A time when you didn't mind being touched?" He nodded.
"I understand."
"Do you?" It took you a moment to realize Bucky wasn't challenging you—he knew what you had gone through—other than Wanda, he's the only other person in your life that knows, but there was a look on his face that plainly said you were missing something.
"I think so." You replied quietly, hoping that was the right thing to say.
Bucky took a step closer, causing your heart to race, and slowly, carefully cupped your face in his hands, the cool metal giving you goosebumps.
For the first time in years you didn't flinch, and let out a shaky breath as Bucky leaned to kiss you. It almost didn't register at first…his lips brushing across yours. Testing, you kissed him back, Bucky reached for your hands, freeing them from your pockets.
"Buck?" You asked breaking away, making sure it was okay to finally get your hands on him. He responded with a quick nod, and kissed you again more urgently than before, a moan escaping when your fingers found their place, tangled in his hair pulling him closer. Bucky picked you up and carried you back to the couch—finally giving your lungs a chance to get some air as his lips moved to your neck, kissing and nipping as he went.
You were desperate for more contact and tugged at the hem of his shirt as he laid you down on the couch. He made quick work of both yours and his; pressing you down onto the couch as he lay on top of you. Every inch of skin that touched his was on fire. Liquid heat was growing in your belly; with each surge, you rolled your hips upwards to meet his. Taking a moment you broke him and kissed and nipped at his chest, moving to place kisses along the scaring of his left arm. Each time your lips met skin he rolled his hips downward. When your mouth found him again you tugged his bottom lip with your teeth causing Bucky to grunt and kiss you harder than before. You could feel his hardness pressing against you each time you moved your hips to meet his.
All too quickly you needed more.
You needed him.
Now.
When your fingers reached for the button on his jeans Bucky's kisses came to a halt. Your heart sunk.
Seconds felt like an eternity, "I can't." Bucky said out of breath, pushing away from you and getting up quickly, backing away.
"Buck?"
"I can't." He repeated, "Not yet."
You got up to follow, to tell him it was okay, but he was already out the door.