Happy Birthday, Buck (Barnes/Rogers x reader)

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Just a little something I cooked up for our favorite assassin's 100th.

                   

You didn't really know much about Bucky Barnes, other than the few details that Steve had given you over the years since you had befriended him after joining the Avengers; you knew that they were best friends when they were younger and you knew about Bucky's fall, but beyond that, the Captain was pretty tight-lipped.  There were a few moments here and there when certain dates that were significant would pass and Steve would feel particularly emotional, sharing just a bit more in his weakness, or sparks of insight flashed in his eyes when a news report would catch his attention, only to see him grow despondent when it gave him nothing to go on in his search.  When the day came that he found his friend again, it wasn't exactly a joyous time, with the team fracturing under its own strain, fully broken by the weight of Steve's unwavering commitment to his fugitive friend.

You knew that Bucky was one of the strongest fighters that you had ever seen, comparing only to the skills that Steve possessed, which were surprisingly alike given how they were trained by diametrically opposed entities.  When you fought at his side, following Steve's command to not leave him as you battled your own team, you fully realized just how powerful he really was, but you also came to realize just how chaotic his mind had become in his search for himself.  When the two men flew away on the quinjet that day, you promised that if you ever saw Bucky again, you would help him learn who he was, and how to live his life again.

Since going into hiding after Steve rescued you and the rest of his team from the Raft, Bucky had been ever-present in the safe house that you were sharing with everyone in Wakanda, thanks to the kindness of T'Challa.  Even in the close quarters and constant company, he was a man who kept mostly to himself unless he was with Steve; he was the one who held his trust, and despite knowing that none of you would risk his freedom, he kept a distance from the rest of the group much as Steve had done when you first met him.

But today, you hoped that it would be the beginning of change for Bucky, and that he could see that everyone in the house with him was on his side and only wanted for him to find his way.  You all trusted Steve implicitly, and if he trusted Bucky, then so did you.  When you woke on this particular morning, the date rang strange bells in your head until you finally put all the pieces together from a story that Steve had told you years ago; it was Bucky's 100th birthday.

"Hey, whatcha doin'?" Sam asked in greeting, sliding himself up next to you in the kitchen to watch you work from over your shoulder.  "Oooh, are you making a cake?"

"Shhh," you slapped his arm sharply, "it's a surprise, so don't ruin it with your big mouth."

"Rude."  He watched the beaters of the mixer swirling around in the batter as if it were mesmerizing him, but it was all a ruse; the second that you stopped it and turned away for just the blink of an eye, his fingers dipped into the mixture to cover them sufficiently before popping them into his mouth.  "Mmm, thafs goob," he mumbled, mouth full.

"Did you just put your fingers in there?  Gross, Wilson, what the hell?"

"I washed 'em!"

"When?"

"Um..." he stopped, pointing back into the hallway from where he came with an introspective look, realizing now that he wasn't exactly sure.  "Not long ago, I swear."  He took a precautionary step back and thrust his hands into his pockets where they couldn't risk any more trouble, watching quietly as you poured the batter into the cake pan and slid it into the oven, pouting slightly when you set the timer.

"Don't give me that look, Sam.  It's gonna be worth the wait."

"Fine," he sighed in defeat, "can I help decorate it?"

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