A Birdie Lost in Time | Bucky Barnes

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Her eyes opened a crack and scanned over the space in front of her.

She was in the living room.

Right.

The night before she'd decided to fill her time with movies, waiting up for Bucky to come back from wherever he'd gone. He left at nine thirty, and she was pretty sure it was the latest he'd ever gone out before, but that was good, he was getting out there, keeping busy.

She snuggled into the pillow further, pulling the blanket a little closer to her cheeks.

The blanket she was certain she hadn't moved from the other side of the couch before she'd fallen asleep.

Her lips pulled upwards at the thought of Bucky checking on her—and then covering her with the blanket.

It felt nice to have someone worry about her. Other than her stint on the run, she'd never had that. She took care of herself, and that was that. And she was fine doing it... but every once in a while it was nice for someone to show that they cared.

And even though her stupid crush on him wasn't reciprocated, she did know that Bucky cared for her. And that was enough for her.

She could be happy that way; living and being friends with him until... until whatever came next.

She shut her eyes a moment, deciding whether or not to get up, but based on the light that bled through her lids, it was mid-morning and time for her to get out of bed. Or off the couch.

Being so late in the morning it was surprising that she hadn't woken up to Bucky rummaging around the kitchen; he would have been awake by now. But then again, he might have stayed in his room to not bother her.

She stood groggily, pushing her hair from her face as she wandered to the hall and into her bathroom.

The house seemed particularly quiet, and as she emerged from the bathroom and back into the hall, she glanced into Bucky room.

"Bucky?"

No response.

"Bucky?" she called again, but as with the first time, there was no answer.

Where is he?

Walking into the kitchen, she found the coffee pot unused, and no breakfast dishes in the sink.

So, he came home and left again?

As she busied herself in the kitchen, her mind mulled over where he could be. How long he'd been gone for. How long he'd come home for.

With a mug full of coffee and a croissant, she made her way back to the couch, finding her phone beneath a pillow.

There were no texts or calls from him—which sparked a little worry in her—so she tapped his contact and put the phone onto speaker. Despite trying to convince herself that she'd hear Bucky's voice interrupt its ringing; reassuring her with something along the lines of being caught up with Yori or bringing home breakfast, she was eventually sent to his automated voicemail.

It's fine.

She didn't need to call again, or text, or any of that, because he'd send her a message soon. He was obviously busy, so when he could, he would.

He would.

Although just in case, she sent Steve a text, knowing that if someone else knew where he went, it would be him. She asked as nonchalantly as she could manage, and a minute later, he was responding, stating that no, he didn't, before asking if there was something wrong. She offered a calm excuse despite the worry that built with every letter.