Stucky Oneshots

Familar stranger- angst.

Angst - sort of.

Warnings: None

Time period: After Captain America and the winter soldier.

Wordcount: 782
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It was around seven months after it happened. Seven months was a long time alone. Completely alone. On the run from something he couldn't run away from. His mind was not his anymore. It hadn't been his, for around seventy years. His memories stolen. Left alone with nothing. On the run from everything.

He remembered that guys face. Something about it awoke something in him. Something safe. Something he'd once known. The words had a hurting clang, even though he didn't know why.

He hadn't seen this man before, and suddenly he was everywhere. On every television, and in every newspaper. 'A hero' they called him. No, he was a lost mission. A mission he couldn't end. The first mission he couldn't end.

In the past seven months, he'd tried everything to get a lost life back. Everything was written into a notebook, sketched faces that had anything familiar. He'd visited museums, trying to understand how the world had changed.

One museum stood clearer than the others. Captain America. The guy he knew. Or the guy that knew him. And his friends.

James Buchanan Barnes. Or Bucky. That was him, that was the soldiers name. The forgotten identity. Or the other identity. The charming, young boy who had a family, and a best friend. Not the monster with a broken mind. Not the soldier who had killed thousands and thousands of innocent people, not the man who's mind had been shadderd after decades of torture and mind control. Not the weapon.

Since he learned what he once was, he'd become empty. Lonely. Longing for the life th could've lived.

Day after day, alone and scared. Scared of HYDRA. Scared of getting back. Of forgetting again. Of killing again. Scared of the torture.

He was terrified. The nightmares. The memories he remembered and those he did not. The constant headache. A mind being trained to forget was not a mind that liked to remember.

He longed for safety. Being alone for years. He needed something, someone who'd protect him. He needed that man who knew him for what he once was. He needed help.

____

He stood there, the rain made his hair stick to his forhead. His clothes soaked. Everything told him to back away, to leave and run again. But he was scared. He was lonely. And he had nowhere else to go.

He knocked on the door, instantly regretting his dession. This wasn't safe. He'd hurt him. He was was of that. Everyone wanted to. He should run. Now. Fast. Before they catch him again, and take everything from him again.

The door opend slowly. The blonde man he knew, appearing behind it. His expression instantly switched to happiness.

"Bucky?" His eyes were hopefull. Bucky looked to the ground, not meeting his eyes.

"I'm sorry, i shouldn't have come." He mumbeld, about to leave when the blonde grapped his arm.

"I'm so glad you did, pal. I've been searching for you the past seven moths. God, I'm so glad you're okay." The realif in the bondes voice was undeniable. "Please come in"

Bucky finally met his eyes. The familar blue eyes. They felt safe. Felt him with warmth, and safety, a feeling he hadn't felt since before the train, and the fall. I broke the wall of mistrust, though it sat deep in him. For now, Steve got him. He was safe. Protected.

With a heavy sigh, he stepped inside. The warmth of the apartment was a stark contrast to the cold rain outside. The taller man closed the door gently behind him, not wanting to spook Bucky any further.

"Sit down, Bucky," He said softly, gesturing to the worn but comfortable couch. Bucky hesitated before taking a seat, his wet clothes soaking into the fabric. He disappeared for a moment and returned with a towel and a dry blanket, draping the latter over Bucky's shoulders.

"Thanks," Bucky muttered, clutching the blanket around him. He felt like a ghost of his former self, haunted by the memories that were now trickling back in disjointed fragments.

The blond sat down across from him, his face etched with concern. "It's okay, Buck. You're safe here."

Safe. The word seemed foreign to Bucky. He'd spent so long running, hiding, never truly feeling safe. His eyes darted around the room as if expecting danger to leap out from the shadows. But at the same time, the blonde was his safety. He was gentle, and Bucky had an unexplainable trust in him.

"Promis?" Bucky asked, having a deep trust in that his familiar stranger was trustworthy

"I promise you, pal. I'll keep you safe. "