Bucky Barnes || One Shots

Weather the Storm (Angst/Fluff)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Rogers!Reader

Summary: When you're feeling homesick and missing the past, you seclude yourself until your husband, Bucky, comes and comforts you one snowy night

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of guilt, of Bucky's past and how his family has passed, angst, fluff.

You wrapped your arms tighter around your knees, pulling them against your chest as you watched the snow fall around you, the flood lights of the Compound's driveway highlighting the snowflakes in the night. It was cold, sitting on your balcony in January, even more so with your wet tears still coating your cheeks, but you welcomed the chill.

You had felt so completely exhausted from crying that when you heard the door slide open, you didn't even bother to wipe your cheeks.

"What are you doing out here?" You heard your husband ask. "It's freezing, hon, and you're not even wearing a jacket. Come inside."

You shook your head.

"I'm fine, Buck." You said, not allowing yourself to look up at him. "Go back to bed."

You should've known that Bucky knew you well enough to tell that something was wrong without ever looking at your tear stained cheeks. You didn't know whether it was the fact that you were sitting outside in below freezing temperatures in the middle of the night or the warble in your voice that gave it away. Either way, you heard your husband step out onto the balcony, sliding the door shut behind him.

Continuing to stare out ahead of you, you listened as Bucky brushed the snow from the ground on the side of you, seating himself by your side.

Without turning your face, you could tell he was staring at you, noticing now the tears on your face that you were nearly convinced had turned to icicles by then and the snowflakes that had found themselves resting against your hair. Still staring straight ahead, you opened your mouth once more.

"Buck-"

But you were abruptly cut off.

"I'm not going inside." He told you, before turning to stare out across the Compound lawn himself, watching as the snow came down harder. "You don't have to tell me what's wrong, but I'm not going inside without you."

"James, it's freezing." You attempted to argue with him.

"S'not that bad." He lied, shrugging. "I like freezing my ass off at 2 am."

God, he was stubborn.

But you knew that. You had always known that.

You had known Bucky since before you could even remember, meeting him in the 20′s when he became friends with your brother, getting married in the 40′s before he went off to war- you had hardly known a life without him and you never wanted that to change.

As much as you hated to admit it, a part of you was glad that he made it to the future with you. You didn't know where you would be without him or your brother.

But you also felt guilt for feeling that way, knowing he had lost worlds more than you had since the two of you had shared that tiny apartment in Brooklyn more than eighty years ago.

That's why, on nights like these, when you missed your old life, your old home, your brother- you didn't shake Bucky awake, allowing yourself to cry into his arms, but instead silently pulled the covers off, slid out of bed and let yourself feel what you were feeling alone.

Bucky had lost so much more than you, it almost felt wrong to vent to him about the few things you missed when he had lost his own self at some point. So, you said nothing.