Marvel Imagines

Bucky- Museum

You silently marvel at the Smithsonian exhibit of Captain America. You've always loved to stop by after work and re-watch the small videos of Steve Rogers and The Howling Commandos. You're now standing in front of James Buchanan Barnes memorial. A man is suddenly next to you. He had a dark blue baseball cap that was covering his face, and his hands shoved so deeply into his pockets you're sure he's ripping the jacket.

"I think he's a hero," You say to him, nodding to the glass memorial and smiling when he looks up at you. "Don't you?"

His piercing blue eyes meet yours, "I don't know much about hero's," he mutters, lowering his gaze to his black boots.

"That's okay, not everyone does." You shrug and turn your attention back to the memorial. "But wouldn't it be crazy to have a conversation with him? I mean, he's been through so much with Captain America. They must have some cool stories to tell,"

The man looks at you as you jerk your thumb behind you. "I'm going to go look around some more, you're welcome to join me."

It takes him a moment to nod at your offer. Over the next few hours, you walk around the museum with the man following you like a lost puppy. He's told you that his name is James, he lives here in Washington DC alone, he moved here for reasons you're yet to hear, and he doesn't like to be in crowded rooms. Well, you figured out the last one by of the way he would warily scan the room every few minutes.

You do admit, he's slightly strange, but he seems friendly enough. By the time eight o'clock rolls around, you and James are sitting in a small cafe inside the museum.

"So, Mr. James. Captain America or Bucky Barnes?" You ask, quietly sipping on your coffee.

He rubs his neck and look up at your from under the cap. "Do I have to answer?"

You smile. "Absolutely,"

"I guess.. Captain America?"

"Really? I don't get why everyone thinks Captain America is better than Bucky. I mean, sure, he's some sort of "super human", but Bucky seems just as brave and sweet from the description." You pick at the paper cup, biting your lip. You really need to stop gushing about Bucky Barnes or people will think you're insane for liking a dead guy.

James chokes out a strangled laugh and rubs his stubbled chin. "That was really something,"

Blushing, you smile weakly. "You mean crazy?"

He shakes his head, "No. More like, passionate."

Before you know it, the museums closing and James is walking you home. Once you reach your apartment, you face him.

"It was nice meeting you, James." You say, extending your hand.

He looks down at it, then slowly grips your hand and shakes it softly. "Likewise..?"

You raise an eyebrow at him, but catch on with a laugh. "Oh, right. I'm (Y/n),"

A small smile pulls at his lips. "(Y/n),"

Over the next months, you and James would meet at the Smithsonian and talk about anything and everything. Your guys' first kiss was when you were rambling on and on about the recent book you read when James shut you up by pressing his lips against yours. From that moment on, James could never stop smiling whenever you came around.