Bucky could not put into words exactly why he was an early riser.
Maybe it had something to do with all of his years under Hydra control. Or maybe his army days.
Regardless, he was always up with the morning sun. When it peeked over the Horizon, filtering in through the cracks in his mud-hut, forcing him awake. Like a natural alarm clock. He would get up, stretch, throw some water in the kettle. Head outside and clean out the gunk from the pig-pens. Feed the cows, the chickens, the pigs. Heard any escaped sheep back into their pen. Drink his tea, write in his journal. Alone, just him and his thoughts. Eventually, his unfortunate neighbor would rise. The clearing would be filled with the sounds of Wakandan radio, and she would wander outside to tend to her tomato garden, and they'd go on ignoring each other. The sun would set, they'd enter their respective homes, and tuck in.
For the first time for as long as he could remember, Bucky had slept through the rising of the sun.
For the first time for as long as he could remember, Bucky had not suffered a nightmare.
His dream was simply nothingness. Just warm, empty nothingness. Figureless, meaningless. Just him and infinite black as he recharged his aching, tired body. He snored softly, enjoying the heat of his hut.
Through the thick nothingness, a voice penetrated.
"Wake up."
He ignored it, rolling over onto his side, grumbling. It came again, louder this time-
"Wake up!"
Still he persevered, slumbering away.
Something thunked him in the forehead and he shot up, squishing against the far wall to get away from his attacker.
No. Not his attacker.
Her.
He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, his vision focusing. A white tank-top hugged her muscular frame, her hands on her hips as she stared at him with those black, endless eyes.
"Ms. Haze," He grumbled, shifting his weight. "What are you doing in my house?"
She stood up straight, crossing her arms. Bucky strained to keep his eyes trained on her face.
"Your pig was in my pond."
He swallowed thickly, frowning.
"Nellie or Bess? What do you care so much anyways, it's just a pond, they're just pigs. Not hurting anything."
"Uh, you're the one who made it clear that you didn't want anything to do with me. I'm just staying true to the agreement. When your pigs come in my pond, that violates your end of the bargain."
You're wrong, Bucky stopped himself from saying. I want everything to do with you.
"Has it ever occurred to you that you're violating it too? That damned radio that you blare through the night? The earthquakes I have to deal with every time you get a little frustrated?" He reached up, rubbing his eyes with his one hand. "The fact that you're in my hut right now? You coulda' just put the pig back in her pen and gone on your merry way, but no. You chose to start a headache."
Bemusedly, she blushed. She was cute when she was blushing. She turned on her heel, pausing in the doorway to give him an angry stare.
"I just don't get what I did to make you hate me this much."
Her voice was angry, but somehow..sad. Almost hurt.
He hated the idea that he was hurting her. But he needed her to hate him. He had done so many terrible things, hurt so many people. She was too loving, too forgiving, too ready to let bygones be bygones. Naive, even.
He would never be worthy enough to be in her life.
"Hate you?" He choked out. "Ms. Haze, this world doesn't revolve around you. Sometimes, people just want to be left alone. And no matter how funny, or powerful, or smart, or beautiful you are, you can still come off like a fly buzzing around my head."
"Funny, with all the flies the pig shit out front attracts, I didn't think you'd mind us all that much."
"Enough with the pigs!" Bucky threw his hand up.
"Next time one comes in my pond, I'm turning it into bacon."
"You wouldn't dare, Ms. Haze."
"I would! Since clearly those pigs are the only way I can get any kind of conversation around here." She huffed, pushing her hair out of her face. She was flustered, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "And my name is August. Not Ms. Haze."
The noon sun hit her just right. It fanned out behind her, illuminating her silhouette like an angel in a dream. Bucky felt like, for just a moment, time had stood still, and he noticed the same things that he had when he had first seen her on that rooftop in Minsk. Her mop of inky black curls that had grown long and wild, tumbling over her shoulders and down to the small of her back, flyaway curls sticking to her face in the humidity. Faint freckles that splattered her arching cheekbones, her straight nose. Pillowy pink lips. Almond-shaped eyes the color of the midnight sky during a storm, framed by thick, impossibly long lashes that always made her look sad. Her long, elegant neck. Broad shoulders, muscular arms, long fingers that bound mother nature to her will. A long torso, smooth legs, and-
Don't look at her breasts.
His eyes flickered to them quickly and then back up to her face. If August noticed, she did not show it.
"What are you staring at, Barnes?"
He looked away from her, gulping quickly. He ached to spill his guts, to touch her, to hold her. To hear his name roll off of her sharp tongue.
He needed her to leave.
"You should go home, Ms. Haze."
He heard her huff and turn, marching back past the earthen barricade that separated them, towards her little castle on the hill.
"Fine!"
"Yeah, fine!"
He watched her retreating frame, turning back to his hut. Heading to his wash basin, he splashed water on his face.
Bucky heard clucking and turned, watching a stray rooster waddle into his hut. He smiled at it.
"Afternoon, bud." He half-laughed. "You're awfully far from your coop. Trouble with the missus?"
The rooster clucked, looking from Bucky to the doorway, and then back to Bucky. It clucked again.
"Yeah, don't mind her. She's in a mood. You know how women are."
The rooster clucked again.
"She deserves better than me, big guy, and just because she's stuck with me doesn't mean I'm going to let her settle. Hell, if she'd even be interested." Bucky set the kettle onto the wood stove, leaning back against the counter. "I'd much prefer that she would be lonely than stuck with someone incapable of doing right by her."
He and the rooster shared a stare.
"Good God, I'm talking to a rooster."
Over the hill, at top volume, the radio began to play.
YOU ARE READING
SURVIVE ➤ BUCKY BARNES
Fanfiction"i think of you-" "think of me?" August had never identified as a hero. She had never chosen to do what she did. Spending her entire life as a pawn in somebody else's wretched game. She was whatever they made her - a hero, a...
