Bucky Barnes

Part 1

Bucky.

"Barnes!" you gasp, lying flat on the ground where you've been thrown by the explosion of a nearby car. You're really getting sick of being knocked around all the time, tossed through the air by some kind of freaking alien or asshole in a suit.

You regret ever associating yourself with the Avengers.

This isn't even your day job!

You own a bakery, for fucks sake!

You know your cheek is cut, you can feel it stinging, the blood starting to run down your face. The pavement is hot beneath you, burning your palms and covered in ash and debris. You reluctantly push to your knees, body aching in every possible way.

Stupid Captain America.

If he'd never walked into your bakery, you wouldn't even be in this situation!

It had just been another Saturday, you'd been icing your cakes and baking your fucking muffins like you always do. You like routine, you like knowing what to expect out of your day. You have a boring and precise schedule you follow.

You'd known who he was the second the bell above your door dinged, but you'd plastered a smile on your face and asked how you could help him.He didn't look that intimidating in person and out of his fancy, patriotic suit, either. He'd just been a blonde man in your shop looking at overpriced cupcakes.

If that damned earthquake hadn't happened, due to some alien interference you're sure --- if the stupid ceiling hadn't cracked, if that stupid beam had just stayed in place ---.

You can literally go on forever.

You'd literally made a list at one point.

You never should have reacted the way you had, but it had been instinctual. You'd reached up thoughtlessly, jutting your hand into the air. The ceiling, which had started to collapse on the two of you --- how the hell did you have such bad luck that he of all people was in your shop that day??? --- causing it to halt in midair. You'd held it there for a moment, then shoved with all your might, forcing the ceiling to go back in place. You'd twitched your fingers, hearing the grind of metal twisting.

You weren't an idiot, you'd known if you didn't fix the beam somehow the ceiling would just fall down again, and you'd just finished baking that tier cake, it didn't need to be squished!

However, saving your cakes had put you in the spotlight. You'd had the unfortunate mishap to be born with an extra ability, one you've mastered quite well. You'd never been afraid of it, rather, you'd embraced it. You're an orphan, so you've never had some caring, prying family in your life.

You grew up by yourself, made your own way in life, and mastered (you hope), your ability. You're no Scarlet Witch by any means, but you consider yourself a force to be reckoned with. Apparently, thanks to Captain America's big mouth, so did S.H.I.E.L.D. You'd been put on their stupid watch list, and basically been drafted against your will into the Avengers!

You're still incredibly pissed over it, having to drop everything to rush out every time some alien got a hair crossed in his ass. You blame Steve Rogers, and you remind him of it every day you're in his presence. You know he feels guilty, and you're going to milk that as long as you can.

You should be home working on your cake, drawing those cute little frogs across it for that kids birthday tomorrow. This stupid battle was making you incredibly behind schedule!

Oh, wait --- you shouldn't be lost in thought right now, had you hit your head or something? Yeah, because a concussion is exactly what you need right now.