A Strangers Hand

Chapter 5

Despite Bucky's uncomfortable protests, Sam insisted that Bucky stay in your room with you tonight, since the two of you had so much to talk about and he "didn't want to be woken up by Bucky stumbling through the dark at 2am." After that, he all but pushed the two of you into your hotel room and slammed the door behind you, leaving you to stare at each other silently for too long.

Once the initial emotions of seeing each other again had faded, the reality of your situation with Bucky came flooding back and it left you feeling conflicted about how to talk to him. You stood across the room from each other awkwardly, his hands resting on the back of the couch and the expression on his face looked like a mix of frustration and anguish.

You cleared your throat and decided to speak first "Do you want some tea?" You thought about it for a second before changing your mind, "Or maybe tequila?"

Bucky raised a brow at you and smirked, "Tequila would be great."

You walked over to the kitchenette and grabbed two glasses, giving each a heavy pour before walking back over to him. "Sit with me." You spoke softly as you handed Bucky his glass and sat at the end of the couch. You had assumed Bucky would sit opposite you at the other end, so you were shocked when he sat directly beside you, barely leaving an inch of space between your shoulders. You both sat there silently for a moment, and pondered how to word things, delicately. You were fully prepared to walk on eggshells around him and then suddenly, you weren't. You threw back your glass and the burn in your chest gave you the nerve to say what you needed. You opened your mouth to speak at the exact same time as Bucky, your words mixing in the air between you. "Why did you leave?"

"How have you been?" You both stared at each other wide eyed as the mix of questions sunk in. Bucky downed his drink and nodded solemnly, while eyeing the bottom of the now empty glass. "I think it's time for another." He cautiously took your glass from your hand and stood.

"Just bring the bottle." You said evenly, trying to make sense of how he thought asking 'how you've been' was even a valid question. He sat back down and began pouring you another drink, you pulled it from his grip before he'd finished, spilling some of the honey colored liquid onto the rug. You tipped back the shot and stared at him with vexation. "How have I been? Really, Bucky?" He lifted his eyes to meet yours and parted his lips as if he were about to speak, but you didn't give him the chance. "How would you be doing, hm? If the person who you cared about most came back after literally not existing for 5 years, only to tell you that you needed to move on with your life. Would you be doing okay?" You could feel a weight in your throat, your words burning you more than the tequila, and you fought back the urge to break down.

His eyes were locked on you, not faltering for a moment. "Y/N, I know and I'm so -"

"Don't!" You cut him off and stood from the couch, moving away from him. Your anger rising with each word you spoke. "Don't sit there and look at me like that and tell me you're sorry. Tell me why you left!" You felt your resolve beginning to waver, but you pushed through it. "Tell me how you were able to walk into my home, after half a decade of you being nothing but my most treasured memory, to tell me you couldn't be around me anymore." With your final words, you cracked. Tears welled in your eyes and your chest was in a vice grip, you tried your best to maintain your conviction through your sobs. "I worked endlessly with Natasha and Steve to figure out how to undo what Thanos did! They were fighting to bring back the rest of the world...I was fighting for you."

Bucky downed another glass of tequila before he stood and walked towards you; he reached out for you and you tried to push him away, but he grabbed your hands and made you look at him. His voice was low and strong, but there was no venom in his words. "Y/N..." His expression softened at the sight of your tear filled eyes, he sucked in a shaky breath before he spoke again. "I left because I knew I wasn't done being this." He gestured in the direction of Sam's room. "I wanted you to train to protect yourself, not to protect me. When I saw you get hurt..." He trailed off, releasing one of your hands to pull up the hem of your t-shirt, exposing the large scar on your abdomen and it's mirrored image on your back. His fingers brushed the raised skin gently, wincing as the memory crept back into his mind. "You were only there because of me. You could have died because of me... and I knew you would do it again with zero hesitation. I couldn't lose you."

You ripped your other arm free from his grip and glared up at him. "Well, jokes on me then, isn't it, Buck? Because you didn't lose me. I lost you. Twice."

You turned on your heel and stormed towards the small bedroom, slamming the door behind you and collapsing onto the bed. You muffled your sobs into the pillow, glancing at the bedroom door, seeing the shadow of Bucky's large figure seated on the ground against it on the other side. You swore you could hear him saying something, but you couldn't make out the words, as the mixture of tequila and exhaustion hit you like a train.