Just the Way You Are - Dad's Best Friend Bucky x Reader

One

You had gone backwards, at least, that's what it felt like as you sat in your old childhood bedroom. It had barely changed, besides your old twin bed now having been swapped out for a double, purple sheets folded neatly at the end of the mattress waiting to be put on. Your old Taylor Swift posters still hung from the wall, pinned against the now faded floral wallpaper. Your dad had lined up each of your childhood soft toys on the window ledge, each one bringing with it a new memory from the years that you grew up there. The fluffy bunny being brought for your fifth birthday by your dad, the year your grandma had died and you'd moved into this house, her old house. The brown bear, a gift from your first ever boyfriend at age 13, the first boy that you had kissed, Peter Parker. The floppy moose won in a claw-machine during a fishing trip at the age of 16, proudly handed to you by your dad's best friend.

It was such a strange feeling, to be back in a room that had been the catalyst of your entire childhood, but to now be a completely different person. To see that, here at least, nothing had changed, when you yourself had changed entirely. You weren't that naive child anymore, even if your dad would rather continue to see you that way. Now you were a grown woman with a successful career and a prosperous future; or at last, you had been.

Until, that is, you had dared to ask your boss for a raise, arguing that you were doing the work of two people and doing it flawlessly, and had immediately been fired in preference of a newbie that they could pay less for longer hours.

Career gone.

And then you returned home early, a box of your possessions in your arms, only to find a trail of clothing on the floor, a familiar pair of shoes that you had lent to your best friend a month prior strewn on the floorboards by the bedroom door. Opening the bedroom door just a crack had confirmed what you had assumed; your boyfriend of two years in bed with your best friend.

Boyfriend gone.

Best friend gone.

Apartment gone.

All in one fell swoop.

You had been left with nothing, and no one, except your dad, and of course, as soon as you had told him what had happened he had insisted that you head home for a while until you were able to get back on your feet. You didn't blame him for suggesting it; it's not like you really had anywhere else to go, and you knew that your dad had been lonely over the years. Ever since your mum had died when you were just a kid it had only really been the two of you, and then you went to college, got a job straight after graduation, and rarely had time to come home and visit. In fact, you couldn't even remember the last time you had stepped foot in that house. But at least your dad had always had Bucky.

You could hear the bustle of people outside in the backyard, a group of people that you barely knew that were, for some reason, excited enough about your return to New York to celebrate with a BBQ. Despite telling your dad relentlessly that you did not want to make a big deal out of your return, he had thrown a surprise party regardless - any excuse for him to get some use out of his grill. You knew you'd have to head down eventually, but the thought alone made you feel nauseous. You weren't prepared for the endless questions about why you had moved home, how your job was going, when you and your boyfriend were planning to get married. You hadn't told anyone what had happened, and had made your dad promise that he would keep it a secret too, and therefore you knew exactly what was waiting for you downstairs.

With a sigh, you rose to your feet, sliding between the cardboard boxes that held your entire life, and making your way out of your room. You wandered down the central staircase. It was a large house, yet it seemed smaller than you remembered, with every nook and cranny that had once acted as your hiding spots and secret dens as a child now looking cramped and uncomfortable. Of course, that's what happens when you grow up, everything loses its magic in the end.