Saving Bucky (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Chapter 39 - Apologies

Wet, bare feet leave prints behind on the unfinished wooden floors of the bedroom as you use an old t-shirt to squeeze the last of the water from your freshly-showered hair. Letting the robe James had bought you a few days prior slip from your shoulders, you shiver as a cold breeze creeps through the window that's missing a single glass pane.

"Stupid half-built house," you grumble, shimmying into the clothes you had laid out on the bed.

True, you had enjoyed having a real bed under a roof rather than a hospital gurney in underground tunnels, but it was still cold, dark, and in some ways even lonelier. In the tunnels, Steve had been by your side every second of every day. He had slept in a sleeping bag at your side. He had walked with you in the woods. He had even escorted you to the shallow hole you had been using to bathe, waiting patiently around the corner in case you had needed help. And despite your melancholy those first few weeks, he had always shared a smile. Or a laugh. Or a story.

But not James. 

James is walking on eggshells. Refusing to come anywhere near you, but simultaneously refusing to let you stray too far. For days you've been circling one another, like planets caught in each other's gravity - desperate to be close, but destined to drift just out of orbit. 

Once or twice over the past days you have been pulled into each other's gravity - a lingering touch here, a longing gaze there. A few nights ago he had taken you by surprise by catching your hand as you went up the stairs, pulling you back to place a kiss on your cheek. But with the danger of your headaches James never lingers.

Letting out a sigh, you toss your damp hair back and take a few deep breaths to try and keep the buzzing out of your ears - an interesting and new side effect. It's been almost twelve days since your trip to the cabin. which means it's been twelve days since your last pill. The longest you've gone in a long time without your medication. And although you've managed to keep the noise and the lights tempered, the buzzing has started seeping into your neck and your ears, actually tainting your hearing like a low-pitched whine. It's uncomfortable, but you're careful not to show too many signs of distress around James. You've learned it only agitates him. Which in turns agitates you. Which makes the pain worse. Which makes him more agitated. And so on.

With an air of confidence you pull open the bedroom door and descend the stairs to find James where he always is whenever you leave the main floor - on the couch right at the bottom, as if waiting for you to come back. In his hands is the same long strip of wood he's been whittling for a week. Halfway down the steps you stop, admiring his concentration. So focused on the thin strip of wood in his hands, he doesn't notice you as you watch him carve. His brows are knit tightly together and his nose twitches as the tip of his tongue sticks out slightly between his teeth. Delicately, he makes a minute flick with the tip of his blade and the tiniest wood shaving falls from the edge. He relaxes and holds up the wooden piece, inspecting it. 

"You still haven't told me what that is," you say, continuing down the steps.

James jumps only slightly, having been taken off guard by your presence. You hide your grin as you walk up behind him, leaning over the top of the sofa to gaze at the wooden piece in his hands. It's about six inches long and you can tell there's some sort of intricate tree design in the middle. He stiffens, but you stay where you are and he relaxes.

"Just passing time," he grunts, closing his knife and tossing it on the sheet-covered paint buckets the two of you have been using as a coffee table.

"That's not just passing time," you say gently, nodding towards his carving. "That's a real talent."

A slight flush colors James' face. His jaw tenses and he turns the thin wooden piece over in his hand a few times. You feel your own cheeks warm. That might have been the first real compliment you've ever paid him. And it felt...nice.