Saving Bucky (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Chapter 105 - Into Dust

"You don't have to do this, Buck," you mumble, arms crossed tight against your chest as James cleans his rifle on the palatial suite couch. "Steve can handle it," you say. "The rest of them can handle it."

He doesn't respond. But the crease in his brow tells you he's not unaffected by the situation. You're not sure if he's most bothered by the idea of walking back into a fight, or by the stuffy décor and high walls of the palace. It's been over a year since you've been on royal grounds, but despite its comforts and luxuries you'd give anything to be back in your little hut. 

"Buck," you say, sliding onto the cushion beside him and placing your hand atop his, stopping his repetitive cleaning motions. "Talk to me."

"Nothin' to talk about," he grunts, sliding his hand from beneath yours and once more cleaning the insides of his weapon.

You sigh in defeat. Ever since he put on the new arm, that old side of James you haven't seen in a long time has taken over. It's rough. Callous. Defensive. Preoccupied with his weaponry, James doesn't notice you disappear into the bedroom. And he doesn't hear you return with a small box. He jumps - startled - when you slide your fingers into his hair. 

"What are you doing?" he frowns as you run your cream-covered fingers through his long, dark hair. 

"You've made up your mind," you say mournfully. "But I won't let you fight with your hair in your face. It's dangerous."

James grumbles and starts to protest, but as soon as you run a brush through once, he quiets, and melts beneath your touch. His hands go still, and he closes his eyes as you work through the knots and tangles. Your lip starts to tremble as you work, and tears form in your eyes. But you bite back the sob and stay focused, even as your sight grows blurry. 

"Th...there," you say weakly once the brush runs through without snagging. "And you should shave." Setting down the brush, you leave the room quickly, not wanting to cry in front of him. Yet before you can reach the bedroom a warm hand catches your wrist. 

"We owe them," he says. "I owe them."

"You can owe them a blade, Buck," you say to stormy eyes. "Or, a gun, I guess. But you don't owe them your life. Even though Shuri helped save yours, she didn't do it just to ask for it back when helpful."

"Sugar, I-."

"It's your life, Buck," you say firmly. "It was a gift that was given to you. With no expectation of return."

"It's not just Shuri and T'Challa out there, doll," James says. 

"Not just...?" you look at James questioningly for a moment when it hits you. "Ah," you sigh in frustrated understanding. "So this about Steve."

"He needs me out there," James says. 

"And I need you in here," you argue. "This isn't some back alley, James! He's not the runt of the litter anymore. He's a big boy who can take care of himself. You don't need to protect him."

"That's not what I-,"

"Bullshit, Buck," you spit, too tired to argue anymore. "That's exactly what you're doing. Because that's who you are," you say, getting choked up as tears line your eyes. "You're a...a-a good man, James Barnes. Shit," you whisper beneath your breath, lip trembling as a tear slips from the corner of your eye.

James sighs and pulls you into his embrace, clinging to you tightly. "Wait for me here," he says. "In the palace. You need to stay here no matter what happens. I need you to promise me."

You scoff.  

"Y/n," James says, pulling back to look at you. "From what we know this probably won't end well. I need you here. Please." You laugh again at the absurdity, and James kisses you gently. "Please," he whispers.