"Stop it, you two. Bucky and I are friends. Don't even go there." I shook my head at them.
"Oh, come on Max! You know you have a thing for him!" The blonde teased.
"Had. I had a thing for him. Past tense. And that was, like, my sophomore year of h...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Max."
My heart ached at the name coming from his lips and a chill tan down my spine, spreading to the tips of toes. There was an undeniable craving to hear him to say Ror again, for the name to roll off of his tongue. For him not to use that name. For him not to talk to me like he's just another person.
Because, of course he isn't just another person. I don't think he's ever been just another person. He's my person. My Bucky. An absolute fucking idiot, but my idiot.
"James," I whispered, "what happened?"
He winced, and I couldn't tell if it was from the wounds and bruises that littered his body of from the name.
"What happened?" I repeated.
"Rumlow happened." He hissed, trying to sit up a little straighter. Holding his side as he moved.
I gave a small nod and moved to the medicine cabinet the resided next to the fridge. I opened the wooden door and the creaking of the hinges filled the room as I reached for the first aid kit. Setting it down on the counter, I grabbed the bottle of Tylenol next.
First aid kit and pain medicine in hand, I moved towards Bucky. His eyes never leaving me as my feet carried me closer and closer. Even as I stopped to get him a glass of water to wash down the pills with.
I swallowed hard and tried to keep my breathing shaky. Cursing myself for feeling like I need to help him. Like I need to take care of him after what he did to me.
But, when I look at him right now, I don't see the guy that cheated on me.
I see Bucky. My Bucky. Bruised and beaten. Having the shit kicked out of him for standing up for Steve. Just like he had looked so many times before, throughout our lives. The Bucky that would fight tooth and nail to protect the people that he loves.
My Bucky is sitting at this kitchen table right now, and my heart would do anything to be near him again. Craving that feeling of home he once held for me.
"W-what're you doing?" His eyes were wide, almost surprised to see me approach him with a first aid kit.
I handed the glass of water and tapped out two pills for him to take. "Helping you, moron."
He smiled at me as I kneeled down and placed the kit on the floor next to me. Pulling out the pads and peroxide, I soaked the cotton and began dabbing at the cuts that were visible to the eye.
I leaned down to begin cleaning the few cuts on his hands. Electricity scorched my veins as soon as our skin touched.
My breath felt lodged in my throat as the familiarity flooded me. The familiar scene of helping him after protecting Steve. The familiar feeling of his skin against mine. The familiar scent of his cologne that he applies every morning after his shower.
