A Birdie Lost in Time | Bucky Barnes

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Marlow's eyes opened as sun leaked through the balcony doors. She'd been dozing the last few hours, somehow avoiding falling into a deep enough sleep to dream, but still getting a little rest.

A weight on her side had her looking down, and when she did, she saw Bucky asleep. She almost laughed at the sight; his long hair covering her torso, his mouth slightly open, his legs splayed over the arm of the couch in a way that meant his feet must be asleep. He looked completely undignified, and she cursed that he still somehow looked attractive.

It didn't seem fair, although she wasn't surprised.

It was Bucky.

The tv was still playing quietly across from them, but she was uninterested in it, so she settled herself back against the mountain of pillows behind her and shut her eyes.

She didn't fall asleep again, but instead let her mind wander. And it seemed to fall back onto her most recent topic of worry: Sam.

After the conversation her and Bucky had had in her room, she felt a shift in her demeanor—but also in Sam's.

Staying with Bucky was different than staying with Sam; there was less collateral. Bucky could easily restrain her if necessary, she didn't pose much of a risk against him, and there was no one else around that she could hurt. With Sam, there were too many possibilities.

And ever since that night four days ago when she'd lashed out at him after her nightmare, Sam had been off. He reassured her that nothing was wrong, that it wasn't her or what she'd done, but she couldn't help but think he was lying.

She knew he must have been disappointed, but this felt like something more than disappointment, maybe fear, hurt, something, but he wouldn't say what—in fact he wasn't saying much of anything.

Their conversations had waned before she watched helplessly as he moved his things to Steve's suite, wishing to somehow make it better. And when her eyes widened at the round leather case that she knew held Steve's shield, that weight around him seemed to get heavier.

"I didn't... I'm sorry I didn't know," she'd mumbled in surprise, unable to understand how she'd missed it.

Of course Steve gave him the shield.

Of course he should be Captain America.

"It's alright Mar, I know it's been a hard time for you."

"But I should have..." she had trailed off in guilt, ashamed of herself for paying so little attention to the world around her—to her friend—the last few weeks. "Are you excited?"

He seemed hesitant of the question, pushing a tentative smile to his lips. "I'm still not sure how to feel about it. It's a lot of pressure."

"It is... But I think you're exactly what the world needs."

"What the world needs..." He'd repeated before nodding. "I guess we'll see."

That last conversation hung over her like a cloud. She'd texted him, checking in, heart warming at the pictures he'd sent of him with his nephews and sister, but there was a palpable block between them. The weight it added was almost suffocating because it felt like yet another thorn in the stem that was her conscience.

There were, however, a few moments where her mind drifted away from all of it. Where she was focused on what a certain blue-eyed man was joking about, or explaining, or doing.

She let herself have those moments despite the alarms in her mind that warned her not to get too distracted by him. Sure, after the respite she would feel the claws of guilt—and sometimes a few heartbeats of bashfulness—but it was too comforting to fend off; like finally that first full breath of air after one of her nightmares.