#stranded series

The isolation feels understandable to you now. He clearly hates people. But the thing you can't wrap your head around is why he would invite you in and then be disgusted by your company. It's confusing, to say the least.

You busy yourself by making the bed. After you're done you check your clothes but they're still wet. With a sigh, you lay down and pull the covers over you. You can rest your eyes for a few minutes and then maybe the clothes will be dry enough for you to leave.

You wake abruptly to the sound of howling wind and sit up. It's dark outside the windows and quiet from the wood stove. Checking your phone, you see that a couple of hours have passed. Your clothes are probably okay now, but before you can muster the energy to leave the bed, sleep pulls you under once more.

The next time you wake it's from the sound of a door opening. You lay still, listening to Bucky move around the small room, put more logs into the stove, and then go to the kitchen. "Want some coffee?" he asks, his voice cutting through the quiet. You have no idea how he knew you were awake. "Sure," you reply, doing your best to ignore the warmth that blooms in your chest at the sound of his still-sleepy tone. Despite being an asshole, Bucky is very handsome.

As the old machine starts to gurgle and sputter, you get up and look out the window. It's still windy but no more snow than what was already on the ground yesterday, which is a relief. You wouldn't want to be snowed in with the world's biggest grump. On the other hand, people always say hate sex is good. Then you mentally slap yourself for even going there. Bucky would probably agree to touch you if you were dying. Maybe.

As you turn back around you're greeted with the sight of Bucky in the middle of the room with a big block of a phone pressed to his ear. His jeans are tight over his thighs and his henley snug over his shoulders. The scowl seems to be a permanent fixture on his face.

“It's Bucky,” he says into the phone. “Yeah, no I'm fine, do you have a truck available to pick up a stranded car down by the big road?”

The person on the other end chats away and Bucky starts pacing the room.

“No it's not for me, I said I'm fine.” The sigh that comes out of him feels like it comes from his soul. “It's for a… a friend, you could say.” He glances over at you and you shrug. Better to be called a friend than an intruder.

“Hal, I don't have time for this. Do you have a truck available or not?” You watch as his shoulders sag in defeat and you know the answer without him needing to state it. He says a short goodbye before looking over at you.

“Let me guess, no one is available to get my car?” “Not for a few days, it's a small mechanic shop and they're backed up at the moment.”

You don't dare to joke about Bucky being stuck with you for a few more days. Instead, you quickly gather your now-dry clothes and head to the bathroom to change. Hesitantly, you get rid of the warm, oversized hoodie. You fold them and put them on the counter. He's probably gonna burn them once you've left but you don't need to know that.

The cabin smells like coffee and you make yourself a cup that you sip on while tidying up the bed. Bucky hasn't offered any breakfast and you're not gonna ask. The coffee will last you to the car and you have snacks there. He sits by the table with a book and his cup, not acknowledging you.

After you've folded all the linen, you drain your cup, use the bathroom one more time since you're not sure when you'll be able to again, and then start putting on your jacket.

“Where are you going?” Bucky asks, and you look over at him. His scowl is more concerned this time, but it's not enough to change your decision. “To my car.” Bucky glances out the window. “The wind is strong.” You shrug. “I need to get out of here,” you simply say. No need to point out that he’s a terrible host. He answers with a hum.

You're about to thank him for taking you in and giving you food and clothes, but he's absorbed in his book again. So you pull your hood up and head out.

***

Yesterday, you hoped to reach your destination before dark. Now you would rather walk anywhere in the pitch black if the wind would just calm down. Despite your thick jacket and winter boots, you're freezing, but at least you made it to your car.

It looks intact and you get in to get away from the wind. Despite knowing nothing will happen you try the ignition again but the car is still dead. All the way there you fantasized about it magically turning on and you driving out of there, warm and towards a place you'd be welcome.

With numb fingers, you unlock your phone but there is still no signal. Yesterday you decided that walking towards town wasn’t an option, but now it’s the only one you have. And if the opportunity presents itself you’ll be brave and stick out your thumb.

As you stuff more things into your backpack you wonder if this is one of the times where your stubbornness is getting the better of you. Then again, you are socially intelligent enough to know when you're not wanted. You're not sure why your thoughts keep returning to Bucky since you’ve known him for less than 24 hours. And known is to word it strongly. Barely interacted with is more like it.

You close the trunk of your car with a bang and start walking. Maybe the annoyance at yourself will keep you warm because the wind has not gotten any warmer. The road is as deserted as when you first got stranded. You try to keep a lookout for cars but you constantly have to put your head down as you walk forward.

Time passes but you're not sure how long you've walked or how far you've gotten. If you turn around and you can still see your car, you're gonna lay down and just die, because it feels like you've been walking for hours. The snacks you had in the car weren't nearly enough and you're starting to get hungry. What you wouldn't give for a taste of Bucky’s hot soup.

You feel like you're in a cartoon, thought bubbles with his name and face popping up above your head constantly and you want to wave them away. But you're so cold, tired, and hungry. The ground at the side of the road sure is looking inviting for a nap.

Despite better judgment, you stop. Your legs ache and feel like jelly. Tears burn your eyes because you're mad at yourself for being so stubborn. And mad at Bucky for being an asshole.

You have to keep walking. It's the only way. But you don't want to. You want to sit down.

The ground is cold and hard, but also somehow soft. Soft enough to want to lie down. You can just rest your eyes for a few minutes then you'll get back up and walk again.

A deep sigh escapes you as your body relaxes into the hard surface and suddenly you start to feel warm again.

***

It isn’t like Bucky cares where you are. At least that's what he tells himself. You said you were going to your car, he thought to get something. He could have driven you but he just wanted to start his day slow and have his coffee before running out.

Since you aren't back, he assumes you got the car going.

The sat phone goes off and startles him as he sits deep in thought.

“Hey, it's Hal! I managed to get a tow for your friend's car, I have it by the shop but it's gonna be a few days until we can get to it, is that alright?”

“She isn't with you?” Bucky asks and deep lines form between his eyebrows.

“Eh, no, the car was empty. Wait, did you have a—”

Whatever Hal is about to say gets cut off as Bucky hangs up. You weren't by the car, but you're still not back. So where are you?

A tinge of panic rises in Bucky's chest, a feeling he refuses to analyze more at this moment. He heads for the door, unsure what he's gonna do, but he needs to go out and look for you.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he tells himself as he starts his car. “She's found someone to catch a ride with. She doesn't want you to look for her. She doesn't care about you, so why should you care about her?”

But still, he drives slowly so as not to miss anything.

***

The sound of a car door slamming shut starts you awake. Fuck, you missed an opportunity to hitch a ride, is all you can think, and you try to sit up, open your eyes, and speak but your body is slow and sluggish. Then you hear a familiar voice. “What the fuck are you doing?”

In the next moment, you feel yourself being lifted. With great effort you manage to open your eyes and see the one man you'd hoped never to run into again. He places you in his truck, buckling you into the seat, before rounding it and getting in, not saying a word before turning on the empty road and heading back the way you came.

“No,” you press out hoarsely. “What were you doing?! Trying to walk to the nearest town?!” “Mmhm,” you answer and lean your head back. You're still tired and hungry, but the car is pleasantly warm. “How can you be so stupid? It's a two-hour drive!” You want to answer that you couldn't stay but all the energy has left your body so you just shrug.

It feels like you're back at the cabin in no time, as if you didn't make any headway on your walk at all.

Bucky reaches over to unbuckle you and carries you up to the cabin, putting you on the floor in front of the wood stove.

As he's putting more logs into the stove your head starts to spin, and a second later you’re lying on your side, having tipped over from the vertigo. “For fuck's sake!” Bucky growls. “Dizzy,” you manage to croak. “Just lay there until I've warmed up some soup,” he says and walks away. The heat from the fire makes sweat form on your brow, still bundled as you are in your thick jacket. You fumble to take it off, but your fingers won't cooperate. In record time, Bucky has a bowl of yesterday's soup on the floor next to you, and you've managed to get the zipper down a few inches.

With surprising care, far more than you expect, he gently helps you sit up and unzips your jacket, then assists with your boots as well. As he grabs your hand you can feel the stark difference between your cold fingers and his warm skin. No wonder you couldn't move the zipper.

After, he scooches in behind you so that his legs bracket your body, keeping you upright, before picking up the bowl and holding it in front of you. “I'm not feeding you, just be careful,” his grumpy voice says.

The spoon shakes as you pick it up, you lean forward at the same time to not spill anything. It's slow but it works. Feeling returns to your fingers, making them tingle and hurt. The food tastes amazing, but that's maybe because you're famished. It takes some time to finish the bowl, but once you do, you feel pleasantly full. There's a light, almost drunken sensation from how good you feel—warm, cared for, and nestled between the legs of a handsome man. All you have to do is overlook the minor detail that he happens to despise you. Why would he come and get you? You don't understand. Maybe he was headed somewhere else and happened to see you. But then again, why stop? You don’t mean anything to him.

“Why'd you stop?” you find yourself asking. The flames dance in front of you and you resist the urge to lean back into Bucky. There is no answer, just like you expect, and maybe that’s for the better.

Despite it still being early evening, you sigh and say, "I'm tired," as you push yourself up. Heading toward the couch, you sway on your feet, but Bucky is right behind you. It isn't until you're halfway there that you realize he's gently steering you toward his bedroom instead.

                            Y/N had only been on the WaveRider for a few months, but she already felt like part of the family.  It was a strange dysfunctional family and no one could have imagined them having and Y/N felt right at home among the weirdos, criminals, and people who had once been dead but now were magically alive.  She herself, was the daughter of a time crime lord, Captain Dredd, who had a large band of time pirates that ran about stealing things from history, maybe assassinating a do-gooder or two, and just generally causing all kinds of time-related shenanigans to muck up the timeline.  Y/N had escaped his ship the last time the Dredd gang had tangled with the Legends and stowed away aboard the WaveRider.  When the Legends had found her instead of turning her over to the pirates they welcomed her into the group, what other choice did they have? Send her back and let the pirates turn her into an evil crime lord so they would have a problem with her in the future?  It was great, Y/N fit right in with the team, especially with John Constantine. The two seemed bond over a fascination with archaic magic, fine alcohol, and sarcastic witticisms.  

              “So how many years were you treading water before I came along?” Y/N asked, throwing herself on the couch in the parlor, and setting her legs right on his lap.  John sighed. He hated to admit how much he liked anyone in the Legends but he could not stand how much he liked her specifically. Every time he fell for someone it ended badly, except for that one time him kissing Desmond saved the universe, but that still didn’t work out well in the end.  So here he was stuck being on this time ship for the moment to track down the Dredd gang with magic and Y/N was here for her protection, leaving him no other option but to deal with her constant presence that he both loved and hated.

              “O I’ve been on this bloody ship for 3 years now,” he said, trying to focus on the book of spells he was glancing through.  He had picked it up when he heard her coming, hoping she wouldn’t bother him.  He should know better, she always had to bother him.

              “And you know all kinds of magic?” she asked.  He sighed.

              “Yes, you know this already, what do you really want?” he asked, finally closing the book and looking at her.  

              “I was just curious could we…” she never got to finish that thought as suddenly the ship dropped from the temporal zone and into so trees, throwing Y/N across the room, John landing a few feet away her. He popped up, looking around before running to help her stand.  “What the hell was that?”

              “We just fell out of the temporal zone…” he said, moving to the bridge where everyone else was gathering.  Zari groaned looking at her designer jeans ripped in a way that was not fashionable.

              “What the hell, I just had Gideon make these!” she whined, leaning on the counsel.  “Gideon?”

              “Hey Gideon, are you there?” Sara said, moving to the control panel and taping some options.  Gideon didn’t power back up.  Ray frowned and ran off to find out if he could fix Gideon quick.  He came back after a few moments.

              “Get off the ship, now!” he said, pushing Nate and Charlie to run and the rest of the group ran off the ship as suddenly a gas started pouring out of the vents.  As they got off Ray sealed up the inside and watched as the gas filled the inside of the ship.

              “What the hell was that?” Y/N asked, pointing at the ship.  Ray sighed.

              “It’s a defense mechanism that if anyone were to steal the ship then before it would take off it would spit out a gas to incapacitate them before they left and then we could take over, it malfunctioned when I went to look at ship’s wiring to fix it,” he explained.  They groaned.  “Should all be dissipated in a couple days…”

              “Days?” Ava asked.  Ray shrugged.

              “If Gideon were around I would have her release the vents but…” he shrugged.  The rest of the team sighed and looked around.  

              “Where are we?” Mick asked, still drinking the beer he had been holding when the ship crashed.  He snarled and threw it when he realized it was empty.  

              “No idea,” Sara said.”

              “When are we?”

              “No idea.”

              “Bloody hell,” Constantine groaned.  

              “We should find some shelter for tonight, maybe just string some branches together in case it rains,” Sara said, looking around. “Ray, Mick, Nate, Behrad, go start making some treehouses please.  Charlie, Zari, Ava, and I will walk around the area and see if we can find a town or something.  Constantine, Y/N try to scout the area for water or any food.”  

                The group split into their groups and headed off in different directions.  Y/N followed John into the woods to find water.  They walked for a time finding nothing and she finally stopped him, turning to face him.

                “Don’t you have a spell or something to like make a river?” she asked.  John looked at her clearly annoyed.  “Alright, touchy touchy.  So why do you think the ship crashed?”

                “Probably thanks to your dad and his crew of merry jackarses,” he said, hearing something nearby and grabbing her arm for a second so she would follow him.  She took advantage of the moment and took his hand, letting him lead her reluctantly to a stream nearby.  He bent down and cupped his hands, taking a drink.

                “You sure that’s safe?” she asked.  He sighed and looked at her.  “O ya, sorry you randomly drink blood sometimes, forgot, creek water should be fine for you.”  She walked over next to him and once she saw he didn’t immediately start throwing up she leaned in and got some water for herself.

                “I’m pretty sure you’re right about my dad being the one shoot us down,” she said.  “Hopefully he lost us for awhile when we fell out of time.”

Just in case he places his wood-cutting ax beside the door, out of sight from the visitor.

It's what he least expects out there. A woman. You smile brightly at him and introduce yourself. Before Bucky can ask you to leave you’re launching into a speech about your car. 

When you're done he can't do more than stare. He's not out in his cabin because he wants company, quite the opposite.

He thinks about sending you on your way, but then the wind blows freezing air into his face and he's not heartless after all.

Introducing himself with a grunt he invites you in. Grateful, you thank him and step inside.

All the serenity he previously felt is erased with your presence, even if you're doing nothing more than taking off your boots and jacket. To think about what he's going to do next he goes over to the stove and continues with his meal.

“So, eh… do you have a phone that works?” your gentle voice is like a bellow to him. Instantly he's annoyed. At you, at himself, at the world.

“I have a sat phone,” he explains without turning around, continuing to stir his pot. “But nothing is open right now, better wait till morning.”

As the words leave his mouth he understands the implications. You're going to have to stay the night. Fuck his life. Bucky wishes to turn back time and never open the door. How could he be this stupid?

“Oh, okay, so I can stay here?”

Fuck no, Bucky wants to respond. But he's made his bed and now he needs to lie in it.

“I guess. The couch’s a pull-out.”

He pulls the pot from the stove and finds two bowls before placing the steaming pot on the small table.

“You can have some if you want,” he gestures and looks at you properly for the first time since letting you inside. Now that you're out of your thick outerwear his mouth goes dry. Not only are you invading his space, but you're beautiful too.

“It smells delicious,” you smile and Bucky’s treacherous heart jumps. Fuck it all to hell. He quickly averts his eyes and sits down to eat. The sound of the chair opposite him being pulled out makes his pulse quicken. It's been a long time since he had company, and then it's been old friends or people from the community, never anyone this pretty.

Instead of making polite small talk, Bucky stares into his bowl as he eats. At first, you try to ask him questions about the cabin, if he built it himself, and such. He makes it his mission to answer as shortly as possible and you quickly understand he's not interested in talking. But it makes him proud when you tell him it feels cozy.

When the bowls are empty, you stand up.

“I'll wash up,” you say quickly and your tone makes it obvious that you're not taking no for an answer.

Before Bucky can warn you, you turn on the faucet. It's a little tricky and he's been meaning to fix it but never gotten around to doing it. The water sprays you right in the face and on your clothes.

With a yelp you turn it off and stand still for a second, then turn towards Bucky.

“Sorry,” he says and gets up to help you. “It's a little leaky.”

“A little,” you mutter before grabbing a towel and getting down to wipe up the water off the floor.

The sight of you, on your knees, dripping wet has Bucky's mind reeling in uncomfortable directions. With an irritated sigh he reaches down and janks the cloth out of your hand.

“The bathroom is down the hall, there are spare towels in the cupboards so you can dry off and change,” he says.

Slowly you get off the floor, looking crestfallen and apprehensive. Bucky knows it's because of him and he hates it, at the same time, he hates that he hates it. He doesn't know you. You don't mean anything to him. Everything you've done so far has only made him realize why he needs this time away from people.

“I didn't bring a change of clothes with me, everything is in my car,” you look down and wrap your arms around yourself, obviously uncomfortable.

It dawns on Bucky what he's going to have to do and he looks up towards the ceiling and says, “Un-fucking-beliveable.” Then he stomps off towards his bedroom to find you something to wear.

He rummages through the meager choices of clothing he has at the cabin, managing to find a t-shirt and a hoodie. It's just luck you don't need pants too. He deposits them on top of the toilet seat in the bathroom before going back to the kitchen.

While he's been gone you've cleaned up the water anyway and figured out the trick to not get drenched. When you hear him approach you dry off your hands.

“Clothes are in the bathroom, you can hang yours in front of the fire to dry,” he jerks his head, indicating for you to go and he doesn't turn to watch as you scurry away. 

He washes the rest of the dishes, puts them to dry, and then heads across the open room to the wood stove, throwing in a couple more logs before starting to make space for the pull-out.

“I can just sleep on the couch, you don't have to make the bed,” your soft voice startles him. Instead of answering he ignores you.

When it's done and he turns towards you he almost groans out loud. The hoodie is big on you and you look adorable. An image of the two of you curled up together in front of the crackling fireplace enters his mind.

Without another word, he retrieves a pillow, and a thick blanket and throws them on the bed together with the linen, then says “Good night,” and heads down the hall towards the bedroom.

“Thank you, good night,” your sweet voice calls after him and he bangs the door shut for good measure before leaning his back against it, and letting out a deep sigh.

He has half a mind to go back out and apologize but it will probably make everything worse so instead he pushes off and goes into the small on-suite bathroom to brush his teeth and think about his life choices.

He’s never had a visitor in his cabin that he didn’t invite himself, the few friends he has know not to come over uninvited. And over the years and a few relationships, he’s never taken anyone with him to the cabin. And now, you’re in it.

The sheets are cold and he usually leaves the door open to let in the warmth but that's not an option right now. He refuses to think about how warm and cozy it would be under the cover with you. How your soft skin would feel against his rough palms.

Irriterad he shakes his head to rid himself of the thoughts before they stray even further.

Accepting defeat, you tuck your phone back into your pocket and try to devise another plan.

You can wait by the car, hoping someone will come by and be willing to help you. But you also remember seeing a small sign up a gravel road some way back.

Either stay out in the cold and die of hypothermia. Get murdered by someone stopping under the guise of helping you. Or get murdered by a loner in the mountains. None of the options seems very appealing to you. Walking back to town is not an option, either way, it’s too far.

After some thinking, you decide you can't stay and put a note in the window of your car that you’ve gone for help, and please don’t break into your car.

Fortunately for you, you’re actually kind of prepared for this. You have reasonable boots, a thick coat, beanie, and gloves. Rummaging through your suitcase, you stuff some other useful things into your backpack, before locking the car and starting to walk.

The gravel road is steep, but at least you’re warm, and not thinking about the chill that will come when your sweat cools. You catch a glimpse of a chimney and a thin trail of smoke rising between the hills and that keeps you going. Dusk is closing in, and you hope to reach the place before the road fades into darkness.

As the hill crests, you take a few seconds to catch your breath and get a better look at the house for the first time. Or, it’s more of a cabin, low and simple, but its windows glow warmly in the fading light, and a truck sits outside.

At least you’ll be warm when you get murdered!

You knock firmly on the door and wait. For a few seconds, there is nothing but stillness from inside, before you hear heavy footfalls on the other side of the door.

As the door opens you put on your best smile.

“Hi!” you introduce yourself. “My car broke down on the main road and I couldn’t get a signal, but I saw the sign and walked here. Do you have a working phone or wifi that I could use to get in contact with a towing company?”

The man eyes you up and down. He’s so much bigger than you, with blue piercing eyes, long hair held back by a black cap, and a scruffy beard. The silence stretches and you’re starting to think that maybe he didn’t understand you.

Your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere and you decide to take a chance by following a dirt road that winds into the mountains, hoping to find help. At the end of it you find a small cabin and a man named Bucky. What will happen next?

Stranded is an interactive story were you the reader gets to vote on what happens in the next chapter. You're also welcome to send in suggestions on what you want to happen in future parts!