Saving Bucky (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Chapter 44 - Pitied Memories

James pulls you gently through the main floor. You step over stacks of tiles yet to be laid that rest discarded among dusty sheets, all bundled up near piles of forgotten rags and tubs of spackle. Usually it just smells like sawdust and raw bonding agent throughout the home. But now, as you approach the kitchen, those leftover notes of parsley and butter replace the cold air of construction, sending a rumble through your stomach.

Your cheeks warm as you bring your free hand to your midsection, trying to stifle the noise. You glance up at James who doesn't look over, but who sports a crooked grin he's clearly trying to hide.

"Don't laugh," you grumble, giving him a slight shove.

"I'm not," he says, arching his brow and leading you into the kitchen area.

The moment you pass through the open archway your jaw drops as you spot full plates laid out on in a colorful arrangement across several empty milk crates covered in a paint-spattered sheet.

"Oh."

The startled exclamation slips out unbidden as you take in the sight before you. The plates are flimsy - thin paper - but each holds quite a feast. Two are full of scrambled eggs, melted cheese and chives on top. Another plate holds stacks of buttered toast. Bacon and sausages sit on another, and yet a final plate is laden with small, silver-dollar pancake bites.

You drop James' hand and step forward, glancing over the makeshift table as an uncomfortable nagging sensation in your chest chills the little bundle of warmth you usually hold close when James is nearby.

This is...not what you're used to.

"I thought you might be hungry," says James from a few paces behind you.

"You made all this?" you ask quietly, put on edge by the overwhelming display of time and effort.

"Mhmm," he hums.

"For me?" you ask again, heart racing.

"For us," he says. "Yeah."

A silent breath leaves your lips - as if pulled straight from your body. James has brought food back for the two of you before. Steve had cooked for you in the tunnels. But this? This isn't just delivering the essentials. James is providing for you. No one has ever provided for you before. Not unless they needed something....or they were softening a blow yet to come.

"How?" you ask, casting a skeptical glance back at the man. "We don't have appliances hooked up in here."

"Camping stove," he shrugs, nodding to the small, two-can camping stove in the corner of the room. The one the two of you have been using to heat up leftovers here and there throughout the weeks. Bits of dried pancake batter stain the edges of the burners - clearly it was used recently.

"You're kidding me," you say, gaze skipping over to the pancakes. "That's like...making a feast with an Easy Bake," you mumble.

"What's an Easy Bake?" James asks, stepping up behind you and placing a single hand on the small of your back. But you shy away from the touch, stepping forward once more and tentatively picking up a piece of buttered toast, nibbling on the edges as you continue to look over the assortment of foods laid out on flimsy paper plates, trying to hide your suspicion.

"Do you not like this stuff?" James asks. "I...I didn't know what you would want."

You glance at him over your shoulder and your breath catches at his expression. It's...genuine. He's genuinely concerned you don't like what he's made. Your chest constricts as you stumble over your answer.

"N-no, that's not it," you say, your brain struggling to sort through the current state of the situation and your past experience with kindness. Any kindness at all in your life, especially seemingly random kindness, had been shown sparingly. And there had always been a price to pay for accepting it. Your guard is up.