1476 {Bucky x reader}

20

The sun left a soft orange glow on Bucky as I shuffled my way towards him. We were making a quick recovery after our mission, he more than I. After our mute embrace in front of the dead and crumpled HYRDA soldier, we were dragged apart, unable to speak with one another until the medics were finished with us, and by that time, we were handed off to the nurses based in the compound. It has only been a day and a bit since we got back when I was finally allowed to leave the medical room they made me stay in, the white walls and furniture aggravated my eyes along with the monotone beeping that wouldn't stop until I removed the small clip sucking on my finger, only then it would scream at me with a constant beep like I had pushed it off of a cliff and its screaming was supposed to be the only thing able to save it.

There was this small room in the medical wing of the compound—large windows like every other part of the building—with long lounging seats facing out towards the baby trees at the base of the river. It was late in the afternoon when I found Bucky seated quietly in front of the large window that consumed the entire wall, a delicate smile was plastered on his relaxed face as I took a seat next to him. Our clothes matched, loose navy cotton shirts with matching sweat pants and black slippers.

"Hi." I smiled at him. His face was golden with his hair glowing a honey shade, framing his strong features, the blue in his eyes twinkled and reflected the setting sun along the river. He slowly shifted his gaze towards me, his smile lengthened when he met my eyes.

"You look better." He slithers his fingers between mine and brings my hand to his lips. "You smell like a hospital." A chuckle vibrates through his throat.

"Well, I'm not too sure that the nurses would provide me with rose-scented soaps." I joked. Silence fell as he let go of my hand and brushed the loose strand of hair, tickling my cheek, behind my ear; the deep purple bruise across my cheek kept Bucky's attention as he gently stroked it with his thumb.

"Don't worry, I like your normal scent over roses any day." He drops his hand down to mine and looks at me softly in the eyes.

"What? You like the smell of sweaty assassino?" I was unable to hold my cheeky smirk back when Bucky rolled his eyes at my comment.

"You only smelt like a sweaty assassin when I first met you." He sinks in his chair and continues. "After that, when you started to have showers you actually smelt really nice." He gazes off into the distance.

"Sorry to burst your bubble but we didn't have showers in the 1400s. And Ezio and I surely didn't have the time to take a bath every day." I brought my knees to my chest and studied his face. "What did I smell like?" His lips twitched before I corrected myself, "when I actually started to shower, what did I smell like?"

He glanced at me sideways before taking a deep breath. "You smelt like lemongrass and honey, with a bit of blood orange." His attention turns to me with a longing glint in his eyes.

"That would have to be the soap left in my shower." I drum my fingers on the front of my shins.

"What did I smell like?"

I took moment to think. All I could smell now was the clean, chemical smell that waft through the air of the medical wing. But the memory of Bucky, the memory of his smell never left me. "You smelt like vanilla and blood orange... but most of the time of fresh rain through a forest, a beautiful musky smell. Come si chiamava? (What was it called?) B-b-bal-balsamo! That's it!"

"Balsam?" He questions with a smile.

"Sì, sì. A sweet foresty type of balsamo." I twisted and lent into Bucky, his arm draped over me and pulled me closer.

"I love your accent." He whispered into the kiss he planted on my head. I beamed to myself at his comment like a small child when handed a toy. He made me so comfortable and happy, it was as if it were inevitable we were meant to be together, inevitable we were supposed to meet. That tale of soulmates seemed to contaminate my mind. A person with double the limb, split in half from the fear of their power and turned into two. Two people who were once whole, two people who completed the other person and turned them into one. Maybe Bucky was my other person and we met to finally become whole. Maybe... he was my soulmate and I, his.

"I love you." I bury my head deeper into him for comfort, and to get closer to him, as close as I could get.

"Anche io vi amo. (I love you too.)" He says to me in perfect Italiano.

The golden honey light was morphing into a warm purple and pink sunset, its colours danced across Bucky's face once I sat up and examined his features. He was putting in the effort to learn my language. He already spoke Latin, which I can slightly understand from the lessons my mother made me take as a child along with the English lessons that I personally preferred because of its challenging form.

The smile he gave me after I sat up sent butterflies to erupt in my stomach; those soft creases beside his mouth, those soft pink lips covering those perfect teeth. I couldn't help but close the gap between us, his lips felt so perfect on mine. Soulmate.

A cold soothing touch sparked like a blooming flower at the beginning of spring along my jaw. Bucky's metal fingers explored the roots of my H/C hair and the structure of my neck with gentle desperation as if I were the last thing he would ever touch at this moment. Sadly this moment didn't last forever, or as long as I would have liked.

"Y/N," Bucky began, "do you really love me?" I smiled at his shadowed face.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?" My brows furrowed as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"It's just your whole... situation." I twisted my legs in front of me and leaned against the back of the sofa we sat on. "Everybody I have loved has left me, and you..." His voice trailed off along with his gaze before I reached for his hand to bring him back into focus. "You aren't from this time and you might have to leave me like everyone else has. I don't want to feel the same way I felt when Steve left, again, he was the closest thing I had to a family after everything that happened. Sam hasn't even come close to being family since then, even though I feel that we have become closer friends lately." He shook his head of whatever lingered in his mind. "I don't want to be with someone that I won't be able to be with for the rest of my life... if it were to work out of course." He sheltered the pain in him with a choking chuckle. "I just... I love you and I know it's going to hurt... really bad when or if you decide to go back. The thing is," the glow of pink turned icy as the suns last breath of the day disappeared on the horizon. "I don't think that I can say goodbye to you if we were to keep our relationship like this. It would hurt me too much, I can't do that again." His shoulders raised as if a heavy weight was lifted from him. "I'm sorry, that sounds selfish." He leaned over and buried his face in his palms.

"No, no. Bucky, that is not selfish. Trust me." I moved closer and laid an arm along his back in reassurance. "I understand how you feel, after everything you've told me about what happened to you. I would hate to be another reason why you were upset. I'd never wish that upon you, I promise." The lights above us slowly blazed into a cool light, it was as if the room knew not to disturb us with a harsh light but rather left a soft glow over us, almost imitating the glow of the moon. "James, you have no idea how good you make me feel. Hell, good is an understatement." He turns to look up at me. "You make me feel something I have never felt before, and I wouldn't trade that for anything else in the world. You are like the knife to my assassino, the brother to my... my hood!" We both laugh as I lift my arms in the air like I was praising the Father.

"I get it, I get it." He sits up straight, the smile on his face disappearing.

"Bucky, I want you to know that I am not going anywhere. This may sound crazy, or make me sound crazy, but... I had a little chat with my brother." I continued after Bucky shot a concerned look my way. "It was all in my head." A wave of my hand was all I gave him. "When I was searching through that man's pockets, he just appeared out of nowhere and then vanished and then reappeared again. So it was definitely in my head, no help from the punch and the heat of that desert." Bucky licked his lips in thought as I continued. "But long story short, I know what I want now."

"And what's that?" Bucky tilts his head to get a better sense of what might be going on through my head.

"I decided that..." He shuffled in his seat with anticipation. If my own conscience made up my brother in that desert—even if I were half out of it—and knew what I wanted, then it had to be the right choice. "I'm staying here, with you, for the rest of my days till I die."