𝔪𝔲𝔩𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔦𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔰

15) Bucky Barnes (NSFW)

Summary: after helping to prove bucky's innocence, you offer up the empty space in your home to him.

Warnings: smut, fingering, unprotected sex

A/N: this takes place during and just after Captain America: Civil War. we're just not gonna acknowledge the fact that he's supposed to be in cryostasis.

When Sam had called to tell you that he and Steve were holding James Barnes, an internationally wanted fugitive, you had almost rolled your eyes. Of course, they were getting into trouble yet again, immediately after the Sokovia Accords were presented no less. They needed your help, though. You were an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and they'd need someone on the inside to keep the heat off them for a while.
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," You sighed, hanging up before Sam could say anything else.
Steve was standing at the entrance when you arrived, leaning against the empty doorway looking out. "You gonna stand here and brood all day, Captain, or are you gonna take me to see him?"
"I'm not sure I should. He killed people today, he's dangerous." He stood straight and started walking inside anyway. "And I'm not brooding," He tacked on, "I'm trying to figure out what our next step is."
"That's what I'm here for," You reminded him. "I'll help out in any way that I can." Steve looked over at you with a smile that seemed apologetic.
"Hey, Cap," Sam called.
The two of you jogged over, entering one of the many barren rooms of the abandoned warehouse they were temporarily hiding out in. Inside, James Barnes was held in place, pinned tight by his cybernetic arm, and seemingly just regaining consciousness. His hair looked greasy and a patch of blood was slowly drying on his forehead.
The man on the ground before you groaned, adjusting his sitting position and slowly looking up. "Steve."
"Which Bucky am I talking to?" Steve asked warily.
"Your mom's name was Sarah," He answered. Continuing, he laughed quietly, "You used to wear newspapers in your shoes."
Steve almost smiled, "You can't read that in a museum."
"Just like that, we're supposed to be cool?" Sam asked, looking over at Steve.
"What did I do?" Bucky asked, his gaze flickering between the two men. His eyes caught on you for a moment before he settled back on his old friend.
"Enough."
He let out a sigh, looking back down at the damaged concrete floor. "Oh, God, I knew this would happen. Everything HYDRA put inside me is still there. All he had to do is say the goddamn words."
As he spoke, you pulled a small first-aid kit from your bag. You carried it at all times, not necessarily for cases like this, but you weren't exactly accustomed to harboring fugitives. Kneeling in front of him, you looked up and gestured minutely towards his head. "May I?" You asked softly, not wanting to interrupt him.
He seemed almost nervous but nodded ever so slightly in response. You poured some hydrogen peroxide on a small pad and brushed his hair back from his face, gently dabbing at the small wound above his temple. Steve was speaking now, but Bucky's focus seemed to be on you while yours was on cleaning him up.
"Who was he?" Steve asked.
"I don't know," Bucky responded absently.
"People are dead," He urged. "The bombing, the setup, the doctor did all that just to get ten minutes with you. I need you to do better than 'I don't know'."
Bucky frowned in concentration, thinking for a moment. "He wanted to know about Siberia," He recalled. "Where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where."
"Why would he need to know that?"
"Because I'm not the only winter soldier."
You paused, looking at his eyes rather than his forehead for a moment. His gaze caught yours, those crystal blue eyes holding your attention before you blinked twice and went back to your work.
Steve continued his interrogation. "Who were they?"
"Their most elite death squad," Bucky explained matter-of-factly. "More kills than anyone in HYDRA history. And that was before the serum."
"They all turn out like you?" Sam questioned.
"Worse."
It seemed as though every brief second that Bucky wasn't answering their questions, he was scanning your face. Gauging your reaction almost. Like he didn't want to scare you away. Really though, he was taking you in. Every minute detail was being subconsciously memorized in the back of his mind. It was as though he'd never laid eyes on a woman before. At least not one since the 1940s.
He had to admit to himself, it was a bit distracting having you so close. He could smell your perfume and see every shift of your eyes, every twitch of your lips. He hadn't been this close to anyone in decades and the only times he had... Well, let's just say they weren't the kind of encounters that those people walked away from. Although he couldn't exactly describe the way he was feeling, he knew he hadn't felt that way in a long, long time.
"The doctor, could he control them?"
Bucky's eyes lifted back to his friend for a brief instant before he looked away. "Enough."
Steve looked at Sam. "Said he wanted to see an empire fall."
"With these guys, he could do it," Bucky warned. "They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight. Infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize. They can take a whole country down in one night, you'd never see them coming."
Behind you, Sam walked to Steve and they spoke in hushed tones. Meanwhile, you kept your focus on Bucky. Perhaps it was just an excuse to stay so close to the dark, handsome man a moment longer, but you gently wiped away some of the smudged dirt scattered across the rest of his face. "How're you feeling, Bucky?" You asked gently.
He looked at you in confusion, as if he could find the answer he was supposed to give somewhere in your eyes. You seemed genuine though, asking a murderer how he was holding up after causing a mass panic. "I'm alive," He replied. "That's more than some people can say today because of me."
"That wasn't you, Barnes," You murmured. "This isn't your fault."
His breath faltered as your thumb stroked across his cheekbone, wiping away some of the moisture left behind by the sanitizing wipe you were using. "If I weren't here, people would still be alive."
"Well, maybe the authorities shouldn't have dragged you in from Bucharest," You pointed out. "Seems like you weren't doing anybody any harm." With a soft smile, you tucked a few strands of his dark, matted hair behind his ear.