#jamesbvck

Here I am again! I've had this scene playing over my head for a hot minute so I decided to give it a shot. Fluff Bucky and broken Bucky is what I'm writing about, but let's see how this one works. This is the first chapter, but you can check out the prologue here.

Word count: 1.1k

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Bucky:

I ended up consuming a lot more alcohol than I expected, and although I barely felt the effects of the booze every time I drank it, something seemed to have changed at that moment. She gave me a ride home from work and we went to a bar near my apartment. I already knew the place, I knew which people went there, which guaranteed my safety - mainly because of her. We were talking a mix of stories about her past and how I lived as a super soldier, and I noticed how quickly time passed when I was distracted.

(Y/N) was a company I never expected to get to have, and despite the differences between us - she is a successful journalist and I am a broken man trying to save the world - things seemed to work out. Doctor Christina would be proud if she saw me interacting with anyone other than Sam. At one point during my reverie, I felt her hand discreetly grab my wrist as a warning that something was wrong. With a subtle movement, I turned to look around the establishment, looking for any hint of danger. Her touch, however, for some reason caused a strange vibration and involuntary spasms in my right arm, something I could hardly feel with a touch.

I'm normally not one of touching other people, something I've been trying to change since I started psychiatric treatment, but it wasn't like I could - or even wanted - to get involved with anyone else. Perhaps the response had something to do with the alcohol. Among so many people there, I couldn't find anything unusual, despite noticing brute figures like tall, muscular men exchanging words in louder tones on account of the drink. I used my metallic hand and rested it on her hand, as if to say that everything was fine and she understood, nodding, soon breaking the contact between the two of us. I knew that hardly anything could happen there, I knew the owner and some regulars. My mind was always on the lookout, so I was always analyzing every single person who walked in and out the door.

That is the little bubble of comfort that I hoped (Y/N) could enjoy when she was with me, or even around Sam. The TV announced the appearance of John Walker in another public safety debate and I felt my eyes roll. Damn Wilson, not accepting that shield from Steve still killed me inside.

"That guy again," I growled, staring to the man's face. Next to me, the journalist wrote down a few words on her cell phone. Everything she said about the new "Captain America" ​​she kept with her in case of any trouble. And I was sure one day it would come. I felt her icy hand - which was previously holding a bottle of beer - grabbing my chin roughly, making me look at her. I got the message.

"If you don't stop looking at that TV, I'm going to break that bottle over your head", (Y/N) snapped. There, we were trying to distract ourselves from anything involving my missions and Walker. I laughed at the way she tried to sound scary, even in a joking tone. I felt the alcohol rise up my cheeks as it coursed through my bloodstream. I already knew I was going to have a problem with a hangover the next day, but I didn't want to think about it now.

"Sorry, tell me about your childhood. What did you use to do?", I questioned, seeing her eyes shine when starting the conversation back about how she liked to play all day in the street at home. I also had a flash of memories from that time, but at the same time, the memory of the moment I fell off that train washed over me and I tried not to let her know my mind wasn't there for a few long seconds.

When she dropped me off at home, I began to feel the weight of all the whiskey and beer I shouldn't have mixed, but insisted on drinking, imagining myself resistant to it all. My body heaved as soon as I changed my clothes and lay down on the couch, while I watched (Y/N) turn on the television, looking for a glass of water in the kitchen. It wouldn't take me all the water in the gallon to wash out whatever was still stuck in my head at that moment, but it would help me get rid of at least some of the alcohol in my blood. She sat next to me, looking at her phone for a while, while I shook off the drunk feeling.

"Thanks, (Y/N)," I said, getting her attention. She looked at me, putting her cell phone in her purse. "You know, for today. For agreeing with Sam and the doc to make me more social." She smiled and gave a light laugh at the same time.

"Sociable isn't quite the word I would use. But now at least you've become a less grumpy, and a more talkative Bucky."

I nodded, it wasn't so easy to be able to express myself the way I'd like to, but over time and with psychiatric treatment I managed to be more me, more James Barnes, more Bucky Barnes and less The Winter Soldier. When I took her hand to shake it as a thank you, I felt the same vibe as before and when I looked into her eyes, I could see compassion. Having a friend there, even though I had already met other women (and not kept in touch as I should have), brought me a thread of hope that I would still be able to change myself.

I came closer to greet her with a kiss on the cheek - which I learned to be a custom - smelled the mixture of floral perfume and the bitterness of beer through her light breath and my head made a noise as if my neurons had done a backflip. When I changed the course of her face, I realized why I avoided approaching any female person in this way so much. My lips stuck like a magnet to her pink mouth in a long peck and, intoxicated, I felt I hadn't done the right thing. I'd be trapped there, and, even worse, I would be automatically putting her in danger by simply being with me. But the feeling was better than anything I had experienced before.

THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER (2021) | “New World Order” (1x01)

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THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER