Saving Bucky (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Chapter 79 - A (Grand)fatherly Scolding

A low growl rumbles deep within James' chest as he shifts you in his arms and steps over another fallen log, dry leaves crunching beneath heavy combat boots.

"You better cut that out, sugar," he grunts as you nuzzle affectionately into his neck, nipping at the skin beneath his ear once more, adding to the small collection of tiny red marks you know won't last more than an hour or two.

"Can't help it Buck," you mumble playfully, pressing a soothing kiss against the tiny bite mark before lapping at it once, suckling gently. "You taste good."

"Bullshit," he smirks, twigs snapping beneath his boots. "Been out here for days. Dunno what I taste like, but I know what I smell like. And it ain't good."

"Hmm," you hum, reaching for his stubbled chin and turning it towards you. "Agree to disagree," you croon, catching his lips in a sweet kiss. James' progress never falters as he returns it gently, keeping pace as he heads towards the nearing tree line that leads towards the small, hidden clearing of the safe house.

When you try to deepen the kiss, James pulls away and arches a single brow, giving you a scolding glance. But there's no real heat in his glare, and you simply press a kiss to the underside of his jaw and allow him to carry you in peace the rest of the way to the clearing's edge.

"Uh-oh," James grumbles the moment he steps through the tree line.

Your eyes flit to his furrowed brow, and you arch one of your own in curiosity at his tone. His face is flushed, and a gentle, pale pink has crawled into his cheeks. You follow his gaze and spot the source of the almost bashful expression that plays across the super soldier's features.

Standing on the porch of the small, two-story cottage stands Mikolaj draped in an old white nightshirt. Its dark blue hem falls all the way to his tattered slippers, the long sleeves hanging past his knobbled elbows. His arms are crossed tight in paternal irritation as he taps a single, impatient foot. You haven't seen him since the interrogation chamber, but this figure on the porch is a far cry from the weak and whimpering old man that had held you close on those cold, concrete floors.

This man stands as tall as his creaky, arthritic bones allow. And a fire burns behind his aged eyes.

"He looks pissed. What the hell is he doing out here?" you question as the two of you make your way towards the cottage.

"Nothing good," James says with a knowing frown as his arms tense around you. "For me, at least," he ads on in a mumble beneath his breath.

As you draw closer, Mikolaj's stance shifts and he squares his shoulders. Even in the barely-there light of the early morning hours you can see his narrowed gaze as he watches the two of you approach, unimpressed. His gaze flits to you before zeroing in on James. And for the first time, your soldier's steps falter. You cock a brow and glance between James and old man. Not once on the journey back from the waterfall had James stumbled - despite your attempted distractions. Yet for some reason, this frail old man clutching a wooden spoon in one white-knuckled fist seems to scare the living shit out of James Buchanan Barnes.

"Hey," you whisper up at James. "You okay, Buck?"

The corner of James' mouth twitches upward when he hears his name on your lips, and his arms slacken slightly, his shoulders relaxing as his pace evens.

"Yeah, doll," he says quietly, still keeping his eyes on Mikolaj as the two of you approach. "I just recognize that look is all. Seen it a few times. Always spells trouble for me."

You're about to ask what he means when a sharp crack sounds from the porch. You flinch and turn to see Mikolaj who wears a deep frown on his face as he stares daggers at James. Another loud *crack* rings out as he once again smacks the railing of the porch with his wooden spoon.