Bucky Barnes One Shots

Vanishing Act

You know that going looking for him in the first place was a bad idea because the thing is he never wanted to be found and what do you know? He's gone missing again.

No. Not missing. He knows exactly where he is. This is what he wants.

It hurts you to know that. It hurts you to know that what the two of you had wasn't enough to make him stay. As much as you miss him and as much as you wish he didn't have to leave again you know the saying.

If you love something set it free, and if it comes back to you then it's meant to be.

You have to let him go. He was miserable, ashamed of the things he'd done. Everywhere he looked it reminded him of something. He was constantly guilty. You always knew he wanted to get away.

Although you are slowly coming to terms with the fact that this is what is best for him Steve is still struggling with it, still constantly searching for reasons why he left again and clues as to where he could be. You on the other hand just keep holding onto the hope that one day he will return, when he's ready and wants to do so. Then it will all be okay.

"I'm going looking for him again (Y/N)," he says one morning, bursting into your room.

"Steve why?" You huff fed up. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe he doesn't want to be found?"

"Maria said there was one of those tweet things on the internet from someone saying that they saw Bucky Barnes at a coffee shop in Madrid this morning," he explains. "And I don't care, he shouldn't be out there on his own like that. It's dangerous."

"He's not a little kid Steve! I'm sure he knows what he's doing," you exclaim frustratedly. "Besides, Madrid? Really? Why would he be there? And you do realise how many of those claims are false?"

"I don't know. Why was he in Romania?"

You don't respond. He has point. A lot of what Bucky does doesn't make sense.

"There was a photo," Steve insists. "You can't tell me many people have a metal arm like his."

"He wouldn't be stupid enough to have that out in the open," you defend.

"He was wearing a long sleeve top and gloves, it was just a glimpse of it poking out from under his cuff. He had a cap on too. (Y/N) it's the middle of summer over there. No one will be wearing gloves."

You roll your eyes stubbornly but there's a sense of longing in your heart. You want to feel those smooth, cold metal fingertips running over the skin of your back again.

"Please come with me (Y/N). Another pair of eyes would be a huge help," Steve begs.

"Ugh fine." You moan, your curiosity getting the best of you. "But even if he's there, you have to promise me you won't force him to come home."

"I just want to know why." Steve sighs.

"Steve, we already know why." You huff sadly.

                              ~~~~

You sit out the front of a cute little corner cafe, sipping on a cinnamon spiced chai latte with your cap pulled low for incognito purposes, looking around as if you are enjoying the view.

Really, your the eyes for this end of the street, Steve's up the other end. This is one of the main streets in the small village where the person claimed to have seen Bucky. In fact, you're outside the very shop he was supposedly in. If he is in this place he's got to come down this street at some point and there's one of you at each end so someone will surely have to see him.

"Anything yet?" Steve's voice crackles to life in your earpiece.

"No not a hint." You huff impatiently as you pretend to check your phone for a second, not wanting to tear your eyes away for too long and miss anything but also not wanting to look too obvious.