Saving Bucky (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Chapter 109 - Make Things Right

After leaving behind Mikolaj and Casey, James had put you on the back of a motorcycle and just started driving. And you hadn't cared where. With your arms around his waist, and your cheek between his shoulder blades, for the first time in a long time, you were happy.

James drove all day. You could tell by his turns that he was taking a scenic route. Burning hours just to spend time with you among the scenery. He only stopped twice for gas, and each time he kept tight hold of your hand as he managed to fuel up, cap off, and hop back on the bike without ever letting go of you.

You hadn't realized where he was taking you until he straightened out his path, and reached I-95.

"We're headed to the city?" you call out over the wind. 

"I got us a place," James shouts back.

"A place?" you question. "Buck, you've been gone for five years and back for a day. How have you possibly gotten us a place?"

"Called in a favor," he smirks.

"If it's another abandoned house, movie theatre, or sewage tunnel I'm going to kill you," you grumble.

James laughs into the wind. "It's a little more'n that, doll."

Intrigued, you decide to let the man have his secrets and lean against him in silence for the rest of the ride. Occasionally you sneak quick kisses against his neck, and each one is returned with a quick squeeze of the hand you have resting on his stomach. Eventually, he turns off the bridge and starts heading into Brooklyn, stopping the bike in front of an older stone-faced building.

"We don't have to stay here if you don't like it," he says, uncharacteristically bashful as he helps you dismount. "But, I'm...not so sure I want to go back to Wakanda."

You stifle a laugh as James takes your hand and walks up to the building, scanning the callbox and buzzing a number. The door clicks and he heads inside, pulling you along.

"Like I said," he mumbles, ears turning red. "We don't gotta stay."

"Let's just see it first," you laugh, stretching onto your tiptoes to peck his cheek.

You quickly realize that despite being a healthy six stories, it's an older walkup. James leads you to the third floor and pulls up the mat in front of a door about halfway down the hall - a key taped to the bottom. He peels it off and lets you both in.

You recognize where you are in an instant. You've seen this layout. At the Smithsonian.

"This...is your house," you gasp. James chuckles and pockets the keys, closing the door behind you as you drift through the entryway to the empty living room. "You lived here. With Steve. Before the war."

"Hmm," James hums in assent, taking a deep breath and glancing around.

You slowly walk the apartment - everything like you remember from the museum. A tiny living room opens into an even tinier kitchen. A single door off to the right houses a bedroom. And a bathroom hides in the back, barely big enough to open the door all the way.

It's perfect.

"I know it's not much," he says, almost...embarrassed?

"Buck," you exhale in awe, letting your fingers drift over the patched hole in the wall. "It's perfect."

He perks up, a small gleam of pride in his eye. "Yeah," he hums. "It's all right."

"Are you sure you want to come back here?" you ask, drifting to the window and peering out onto the fire escape.

James comes up behind you and slips his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. "This was home once," he says nostalgically. "Wanna build a new one here. With you. If you want."