Bucky Barnes One Shots

Different

Summary: You're having a little bit of trouble warming up to the "new" Bucky. He's not the same man, and that's okay.
Word Count: 1.6k

He's not the same man, and that's okay.

You repeat the words in your head over and over again. Trying to convince yourself that it's true. Back in the 40s, you and Bucky were engaged. He went off to fight in the war with Steve and didn't come back.

Even though he wanted you to move on, you never did. Hydra got a hold of you because Bucky accidentally let your name slip from his lips when he was getting tortured.

They used you to try and get information out of him. Of course, he told them everything they wanted to know so they wouldn't hurt you. In the end, it didn't matter because they froze you.

Steve found you and unfroze you. You stayed with him for a while before you got a job and were able to rent your own apartment.

When the Winter Soldier fiasco was happening, Steve came to you to tell you who it was, and when he told you, you fainted. No joke. Steve had to catch you before your head hit the ground.

Then Bucky was himself again, but you couldn't see him because it was too dangerous. Then he was sent to Wakanda and you couldn't go. Then Thanos happened, and you disappeared for five years.

Now, Bucky's on his way to your apartment to take you out on a date.

Before Steve went back in time, he told Bucky you're still alive. Bucky nearly choked Steve for not telling him sooner, but after Steve had told him why he didn't tell him for a matter of your safety, Bucky calmed down a bit.

Steve told you that Bucky isn't the same Bucky you knew in the 40s. He's different now. He's not as happy and lively, and he doesn't crack jokes like he use to. But you'll take him anyway you can get him. He's still your Bucky. He'll always be your Bucky. No matter what hydra has down to him, you'll love him.

Currently, you sitting on your couch, bitting your nails. A habit you've always had. Bucky use to call you out for it and tell you to stop. When that wouldn't work, he would hold your hand in his and if you started chewing on the other one, he'd hold that hand too.

Then you'd start chewing on your lip. He hated that one too.

Your leg is bouncing uncontrollably as you stare at the wall in front of you. The wood is chipped and the paint is falling off. You haven't had time to repaint it, with everything going on.

A subdued knock on wood causes your head to jerk to the side. The sound of your thumping heart travels to your ears as you rise from the cushions. The beat of your feet against your wooden floors echo in your mind as you slowly walk to the door.

It creaks open to reveal a man. He's tall with short, brown hair and silver blue eyes. A leather jacket covers his back and arms. A blue shirt covers his chest. Black jeans hug his legs. Completed with black sneakers. Leather gloves on both of his hands. The fingers on his right hand are clasped tightly around a bouquet of flowers. Not just a random assortment, well to anyone else, that's what it would look like. But you know that they're an assortment of your favorite flowers. The colorful petals and green stems, green leaves to complete the look.

Looking back up, your eyes meet his. He looks nervous. Really nervous. You watch as his Adam's apple bobs up and back down as he swallows hard.

"Hi," you finally croak out. He seems to relax a smidge at the sound of your voice. Like he has a sore throat and your voice is honey and tea to help relieve it. Or if he had a discomforting feeling in his back and you were the crack that made it subside.