The Winter | Bucky Barnes Fanfiction |

Chapter 8

-Warning- 

Graphic Depictions of Violence and Self Harm

The radiators came on in the house with a little fiddling on my part. The familiar smell of them just starting up filled the house and mixed with the smell of the fireplace in the living room. Night had fallen, and the once blinding white snow now cooled down to a soft blue shade. I hadn't given much thought as to how I would fill all of the time that we would have here in the house together. I had spent most of the day making sure that the garage was sealed up and that the climate control was working properly. For a week we would have no one but ourselves.

I had made dinner, which ended up being a baked potato soup, and was sitting in my room after I had pulled it off the stove. Bucky was in the shower down the hall from our bedrooms, most likely still waiting for the water to heat up. We had a planned to have a session at some point that night, but it all really depended on if Bucky was feeling up to it. I knew what the answer was going to be of course, so I guess it was a matter of when he was ready.

I had my legs pulled up in my chair and I was nearly asleep when I heard a door slam from upstairs. It was enough to stir me a little, but it wasn't until Bucky was dripping water on the rug in front of me did I fully wake up.

"The hot water's out."

"Jesus, Buck! The rug is an antique," I stood up in a hurry and every ounce of sleepiness left my body. I pushed him over to the kitchen with a hand on either side of his waist, and his hair continued to drip into the tile flooring. The cool water from his skin stayed on my hands as he starred down at me in annoyance.

I dried my hands on my skirt, and took a breath, "What's wrong?"

"Your hot water is out, and the rest of the house is freezing."

I felt my eyes widen with understanding, "Damn." My mind was soon coming to another realization, "Where are your clothes?"

He didn't answer, and instead he continued to stare at me. In all of the time that we had spent together, I had never seen him so exposed. I had suddenly become hyperaware of our situation. Although I knew it was likely an invasion, my eyes darted to the connection between his arm and his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Bucky asked and my eyes narrowed.

"May I?" I asked, screaming at myself in the back of my mind. This was intensely personal, and way outside my realm of expertise. My fingers drew back a little before making contact with the scars.

"Yeah, It's fine."

My eyes traced a fine line around the separation of skin and titanium. The way in which his arm functioned was truly perplexing.

"Do you have feeling in it?" I asked placing three of my fingers on his arm. He sort of leaned into them, further closing the gap between us.

He gave way to what sounded like almost a sigh before responding with a yes. My whole hand was pressed against the star, and I could see the points poking out from between my fingers and on either side of my palm. With his breath I could feel the plates moving, and the mechanisms beneath starting to shift.

"The house is cold," he said one again, taking my hand in his, "you can look at it again later."

"Right," he pulled me right out of my trance, and I looked at my hand in his, "um, the boiler is in the basement."

It took a couple minutes for him to go and put some clothes on, but eventually he met me at the foot of the stairs. From there he followed me down to the basement. I led him with the only working flashlights that I could find. Bucky soon got it figured out, and of course I was inquisitive. He tossed it all up to working at a shipyard before the start of the war. I also figured that he had been living with similar heating in his houses for a lot longer than I had.