Little Secrets, Little Bucky

Haircuts And Full Stomachs

"I need to ask you a favor."

Y/n turned around where she was sitting on the floor folding laundry. "What's going on?"

Bucky took a deep breath. "You gotta hear me out, okay?"

"Okay," Y/n agreed, eyebrows furrowing in concern. She watched as Bucky sat down in front of her, and couldn't help but notice how anxious he looked.

"I want to cut my hair," Bucky blurted out, staring down at his hands instead of looking Y/n in the eye. "And I know you like it long, and I'm really sorry, but I just-" He cut himself off. "Lately it feels like every time I look in the mirror I just see him. And I want to see myself instead. And I know that's dumb, and it doesn't make much sense, and I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize," she interrupted, unable to listen to one more sorry out of his mouth. "Please, don't apologize."

"But you like my hair. And I'm getting rid of it. Aren't you mad?" Bucky asked anxiously, still unable to look her in the eye.

"Of course I'm not," she reassured him softly. "Bucky, the way you look has nothing to do with how much I love you. It's your body, that means that it's your choice."

"But you won't think I'm pretty anymore," he whispered, face flushing red at the term.

"What? What do you mean, Buck?" She asked in a confused tone.

"Whenever I'm little, you call me your pretty boy." His voice was borderline silent, embarrassment making his cheeks burn as he admitted to such a childish need. "I don't want to lose that."

"Oh, that has nothing to do with how long your hair is." Y/n reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "You'll still be my pretty boy."

Bucky nodded his head, still not quite able to make eye contact. "Will you do it? I know I'm asking a lot, I just, it's hard."

"I think that's why most people go to a professional," she laughed, not quite understanding what Bucky meant by hard. "Cutting hair can be really complicated."

"That's not what I meant." He took a deep breath. "I can't go to a professional. The hard part isn't the technique, it's the sound. Everything is sharp and loud and it's right next to my head."

Y/n reached for his hand and squeezed, prompting him to look up at her. "Can you wait until tomorrow? Or tonight? I'm gonna do some research so that I do it right."

"Is that a yes?" Bucky asked, eyes shining with hope.

Y/n nodded her head, giving him a soft smile. "So tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." Bucky happily agreed.

The next day Y/n sat Bucky at the kitchen table and handed him her tablet. "To keep you busy," she explained when he gave her a confused look. "Here." She opened up the games folder of her Stark Pad. "Why don't you try out candy crush? I bet you'll like it."

Before long Bucky was entranced with the game, passing level after level while Y/n meticulously styled his hair. She had watched hours worth of YouTube videos, and found several photos of Bucky before the war. She was hoping that the familiar hairstyle may help him feel more like himself. But she had only gotten a couple minutes into cutting his hair when Bucky inhaled sharply and set down the tablet.

"Stop! Stop cutting it!" He frantically told her, sounding almost like he was near tears. Y/n immediately set the scissors down and crouched down in front of his chair.

"Are you alright? Did I hurt you?" She asked in a panicked voice, checking his ears and neck for blood.

"No, no I just-" Bucky averted his eyes to the floor. "You won't be able to stroke my hair anymore."