Lessons To Be Learned [Bucky x Reader]

Lessons to be Learned, Part II

  They'd been back at [Name]'s home for about an hour, Bucky hiding away in the guest bedroom after a shower. The amount of grease in those foods they served made him feel sick inside and out.

[Name] actually wasn't all that surprised when 45 minutes into the drive home he was demanding she pull over and stop the car so he could expel his disgusting breakfast. The ex-assassin quickly concluded he didn't like most junk foods. So after getting back into the house, and given direction on where to find it, Bucky had made a B-line for the bathroom, spending twenty of his thirty minutes in there just to scrub his skin half-raw. The woman never complained about being forced to endure him more-or-less murmuring 'disgusting' under his breath for thirty minutes over the rush of water.

Right now he was trying to find a shirt that would fit him among the drawers of clothes meant for the homeless people to borrow that [Name] took in for a night or two. And nothing fit him. Either they were better suited for the under-fed-scrawny-guy type of male, or for a slim-waisted-homeless-gal type of female. There were a few shirts that looked like they possibly could fit him... but he wasn't too eager to try. He didn't feel like wearing something that read "Peace, Love, Sing" in German... But it was the only one of the five shirts that could fit him that could easily pass off as a baggy, longsleeve uni-sex top, and wasn't over-the-top with flowers or anything.

Just a gray top with black, red, and yellow lettering. Getting it over with, Bucky put it on and walked out. "Hey there you are! I thought the bed ate you or somethi--" She came around the corner to get a full view of the shirt he was wearing. She started chuckling to herself, "I knew I put that shirt somewhere else the last time I wore it! I should have figured that out sooner when I couldn't find my fifth uni-sex top... Anyways, you look nice, Bucky. You ready for lunch? I promise it's not McDonald's." He nodded absently, more focused on the echos of her laugh he kept replaying to himself. She had been laughing at herself, not him.

In the kitchen, [Name] had a pan on the stove with bread in it. "I'm making grilled cheese sandwiches. It's a little greasy because of the butter that's used to keep it from sticking to the pan, but I promise it isn't anywhere as greasy as McDonald's food. And... if you don't want grilled cheese I totally understand. I probably should have asked if you were lactose intolerant..."

"It's fine." Remembering where she had pulled dishes from last night, he gathered two plates and cups to avoid making her scale the counter (again, since she had to scale them to reach the proper pan) to reach the clean plates. "O-oh, thank you, but I could have gotten those myse--"

"I didn't want you to accidentally hurt yourself. I saved you the trouble." That was most certainly not the best way to express himself, he concluded, suddenly realizing how harsh that could have sounded. But it was a genuine 'want'. If she hurt himself, he didn't really know what to do. Take care of the medical needs at home or take her to the hospital? He wasn't too sure about that. "Okay, hun, if you insist. Considering breakfast was a tosser and you ate nine enchiladas at dinner last night, do you think you'll want more than one?"

He was silent for a long time to consider this, trying to gauge whether or not he'd like the meal to try to ask for more, and if he did want to ask for more, just how much more she could make. He'd hate to eat everything she had. In all honesty, he hadn't eaten this good in a very long time. Usually he was too immersed in missions or too on-the-run. "... Don't know." He tried shrugging lightly to avoid looking menacing. That warm and motherly smile crossed [Name]'s face once again, carefully sliding the grilled food onto the flat ceramic-ware. "Well then, why don't you try a few bites and see if you like it?" She patiently held it up for him to reach, ignoring the dissolving pat of butter she had left in the warm pan. "Hm." A curt nod, he took the plate and sat in the same chair he had the night before, having had noted where she sat at the table then too. He ate slowly, likely hoping that this would stay down as opposed to the grease-bucket's 'food'.