Bucky Barnes X Reader One Shots

2. A Miracle

Set in 1942. Slight AU.

When they brought him to you, his eyes were closed. You'd been a nurse at the field hospital in London for almost a month, but every man they placed under your care had his eyes wide open when they came to you. The soldier's skin was pale and shiny with sweat, and hot to the touch. He looked like death. 

"Bullet to the left thigh." McGregor, his doctor, told you. He gave you a list of procedures to follow, which included a certain type of and how much medicine to give him, when to clean his wound, and change the bandages. "He is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. If he starts to fail, you better be here to hold his damn hand, whether or not he wakes up."

For the first few days that he was in your care, his eyes barely fluttered. You wondered if he would ever wake up. It wasn't as if his wounds were fatal, though his leg could get infected. But the fact that he refused to open his eyes worried you. 

You went throughout your day, seeing your other patients while periodically checking up on Sergeant Barnes. His condition remained the same, if not worsened, day after day. You were unsure what to do. Soldiers had died in your care before, but this one seemed different. You simply felt that you couldn't let him die. Some days you would hold his hands in yours, as McGregor had told you to. They were rough and calloused; soldier's hands. You grew fond of holding onto them tightly, especially if one of your other patients died. They became a source of strength for you, as if tenacity flowed from his body into yours just by brushing fingertip to fingertip. Once, you held his left hand against your lips as you silently prayed for his health. Miss Kelley, the nurses' headmistress, caught you doing so. She lectured you against forming an attachment to the men that were brought to you. You nodded along, your eyes obediently downcast, but you knew the warning had come too late. 

******

One morning, about a month after they brought Sergeant Barnes to you, you went to change his bandages and found he had opened his eyes. You stood before his cot, speechless as he examined you.

"Morning." The corner of his mouth was upturned in a smirk.

"Sargent Barnes," You smiled and sat on the stool you'd brought. "You're awake."

"It feels like I've been sleeping forever," He groaned as you leaned over his to inspect his leg. The skin around the wound was red and peeling. Black blood seeped through the bandages you'd applied only the day before. You steeled yourself, not wanting to accept his leg was infected.

"Only a month, not forever." You gave him a tight, and hopefully reassuring, smile.

He simply nodded and settled his head back down on the pillow. You worked on his leg in silence, pouring medicine over it and listening as the Sergeant hissed and groaned. You cleaned his thigh of blood and wrapped the wound tightly with fresh gauze. You then handed him his medicine, helping him sit up to take it.

He waited until you were finished to ask you your name.

"My name?"

"When I'm honorably discharged, I'll need to be able to tell my friends and family about the miraculous nurse who saved my life," His striking blue eyes watched you.

"I'm hardly a miracle," You said, but you didn't have the heart to tell him he might not make it out of that hospital alive, so you gave him what he wanted. "My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N)."

"(Y/N)," He repeated. "That's beautiful."

You felt yourself blush. "Thank you, Sergeant - "

"Oh, please, call me Bucky. All my friends do."