Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Reader

Bully's Baby-Bucky Barnes Pt2

You sat in the library and waited for James at the table. You had your basic supplies for tutoring: a calculator, a notebook, and a binder to put all of his and your notes from each session in. You checked the clock on the wall. 3:19, he was almost twenty minutes late. You furrowed your brow and thought about packing everything up when you heard the doors swing open and heavy footsteps running towards the table. Speak of the devil you thought. Here came James, hair everywhere, t-shirt hanging off his left shoulder, and eyes wild, breathing hard.

"I'm sorry, I was stuck in Math because I didn't understand an equation so some guy named Steve Rick or Rogers or something like that helped me but it took him like ten minutes for him to explain it to me and another five for me to understand what to do and then I realized I was late so I ran as fast as I could and, considering I'm on the track, football, and baseball team, that's pretty fast." He quickly explained to you, practically heaving at the end of it. You stifled a laugh and tapped the seat beside you.

"Shall we begin?" You asked simply, staring up at him. His facial expression perked up and he nodded, hurriedly sitting beside you and pulling his textbooks out. Maybe this won't be so bad you thought to yourself, looking down at his Chemistry textbook. 

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"So, do you think you have the general idea of this chapter?" you asked James, a pencil sticking out from inbetween your teeth. "Yeah," he said, finishing up the final steps of the equation. "Is that right?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. That seemed to be a habit of his because he did it all the time whenever he was nervous or thinking.

You examined the equation and nodded. "I'm impressed, it took you while but you got it down quicker than I thought you would." You told him glancing up at the clock once more. 4:46. It was getting late and you still had to get home and make dinner before Daddy got home from the factory. He would raise Hell if he came home and something wasn't either cooking on the stove or if dinner wasn't fixed. You pulled down your arm sleeve to cover the hand-print bruise he had left on your mid forearm. It took a lot of strength to not burst out crying right there, but you held your ground, keeping the promise you had made to yourself.

You grabbed the books and began putting it all into your school bag. "Alright, so are we on the same time tomorrow?" You questioned him as you put your pencils into your small pockets. "Uh, I have football practice tomorrow at 4:30, so can we push this to before or after?" He asked, scratching the back of his neck. "Yea, 2:30 tomorrow, and do not be late." You explained to him, rushing out the door.

"Good-bye (Y/N)! I'll see you tomorrow!" He hollered out to you. "Good-bye James!" You yelled back. "It's Bucky!"

"Whatever," you said to yourself and quickly began walking home.

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-i