Give It To You

Chapter Six

Warnings: strong language, violence mentions, talks of killing/death, pregnancy, fluff, angst, talks of pregnancy complications, sexual content (implied smut)
A/N: Sorry for delay you guys! It's been a stressful year and I've been trying to keep updates regular, but that obviously failed. Sorry again and enjoy!
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"Where is she?" Bucky shouted, frantically checking his surroundings for a glimpse of your H/C hair. He was hoping to see or hear you, even if it was just for a second.

It taken two hours, two fucking hours, to get through the army of Hydra's soldiers—even with the Hulk. They weren't enhanced—at least to anyone's knowledge—but they could calculate each move before he even had the chance to think about his next punch. Steve and the others came back from the mission, hoping that more numbers would defeat Hydra. It was only when he and the others started using surprise attacks and partnered combat that they were able to get through the Hydra soldiers.

Then, when he had finally reached your room, he cursed the open door and messy room. Searching and screaming for you, his heart on his sleeve as he ran around the area, desperately trying to find a glimpse of you or hear your voice call out to him.

"Not in any of the bedrooms," Wanda spoke into the comms, her calm voice not able to mask the panic building up in her. "I'm so sorry, Bucky." Everything in her voice told Bucky that she was just as sorry as she was guilty—she and the others were taking care of her anyway.

"She—She has to be in the—the kitchen," Bucky stuttered out, his breathing getting heavier when Wanda spoke again.

"We checked already." She sniffled, her statement making Bucky punch the wall, ignoring the way his bleeding knuckles protested his actions. "Twice."

"Not in the medical bay," Steve huffed out, sounding like he had run a marathon. His tone was tired, almost defeated. "Are you sure she's not in the bedroom? Is there a panic room that she knows about, Tony? Tony?" Tony didn't respond, only a loud crack coming through before the signal cut off.

Bucky's heart dropped to his stomach and stayed there. His throat burned as his stomach rose and his chest ached. He felt himself sink to the ground, letting out a blood curdling scream that he couldn't hear over his heartbeat. He saw a flash of red and suddenly he didn't feel anything anymore. He kept his head bowed and his eyes stayed squeezed shut. Maybe if he kept them closed, he would wake up in his bed back in Brooklyn next to you. Safe and sound.
In a time when the biggest problem was the broken dishwasher. It wasn't a problem for you two though; you both liked it when one washed the dishes so that the other could sneak up behind and become a distraction. He wished and wished that it was all just a nightmare and he would wake up to you straddling his lap, cool hands on his heated chest, and your concerned face hovering over his, telling him it was just a nightmare.

"Bucky!" Your voice made his head snap up so fast that he heard it crack. "Bucky!" He saw you running towards him, but he was confused. He stood up slowly, watching you slow your speed and glance to your side. He blinked, taking a hold on his gun, but didn't dare take it out.

"What the fuck?" Bucky mumbled, running a hand through his hair. His eyes darted between you and you. There were two of you. One on the left and one on the right. You both looked the exact same, making it impossible to tell who was his wife, his Y/N. His eyes scanned you on the left, checking your bruises and cuts. He couldn't see much, but left-you looked untouched. Clean as you were when he saw you last. Right-you had a bruise on your cheek and a cut across your forehead that led to the end of your eyebrow.

He took a step forward to the right-you, concern overpowering his rational side, but froze when Steve appeared behind him, shouting, "Stop!" Bucky was glued to the spot, used to taking an order from multiple missions. This was supposed to be his last one. "Don't do anything yet, Buck." Steve's voice came from beside him, an awkward shoulder pat as he took a few steps forward.