Morning came and your body woke you at 7am like clockwork, although your aching muscles made you wish it hadn't. Lashes parting, you took in the sight of an unfamiliar room. You were tucked into a Queen-sized bed with a fluffy, Down comforter and the softest pillows you had ever laid your head on. Basically it was heavenly and clearly not your bed. As the fog of sleep lifted, the events of last night came crashing down on you.
The police station, arriving at your apartment, the man with the knife...you pulled the covers tighter around you, wishing the thoughts away. At the back of your mind, though, was the memory of munching on cereal and easy conversation late into the night. A flutter arose in your stomach, even bringing a smile to your face.
Detective Barnes. Somehow you had ended up in his bed, which was a mystery to you. Curiosity got the better of you, so you threw off the covers and stumbled out of the bedroom. Entering the living area, you could see the detective in the kitchen with his back to you. He wore a pair of dark blue slacks that hugged him just right, a white tank top, and bare feet. He seemed to be busying himself at the stove, the quiet chatter of NPR heard on the radio.
As you walked nearer, he must have heard your footsteps as he then turned around to face you. The brunet was clean-shaven, each chestnut hair already in its place with the perfect amount of product, and sporting the sweetest smile in response to what must be your spectacular bedhead. Whenever you slept on wet hair, your unruly locks were a sight to see.
"Good morning, Y/N. How'd you sleep?"
"Very well, thanks to you, it seems? I sure didn't fall asleep in there," you declared with a hoarse morning voice.
He laughed, "No, I carried you in. Figured you deserved the comfy bed more than me."
The sheets and pillows on the couch were mussed, which was where he must have slept. The flutter grew in your stomach at the thought of being in his arms, even though you sadly didn't recall much.
"You didn't have to do that, but thank you," you protested.
"Of course I did! You're my guest. Now, are you a breakfast person? There's coffee brewing. Of course I have cereal, which you know, but also oatmeal, or I could do eggs..."
"Eggs sound good."
"Great. How do you like them?"
"Um...scrambled with cheddar cheese and tomato?"
He smiled at your very particular request, "I can do that."
"Okay. Uh...I'm gonna go freshen up," you said awkwardly, having never used that phrase before but it sounded better than the fact that you had to pee.
"Alright. It'll be about 10 minutes," he said.
You gave a nod, retreating to the bathroom. The mirror offered a wonderful reflection of each hair on your head pointing in a different direction, just as you feared. With a sigh you grabbed your brush and some hair product in an attempt to wrangle the beast.
You paused as your eyes fell on the bandage on your neck, lightly touching it with your fingers. A chill touched your spine as you remembered the moment of the knife skimming the skin of your arm, threatening to spill your life force. The man's face flickered in your mind, causing you to grip the sink tightly. A tightness built in your chest as you closed your eyes and tried to focus on your breath.
The moment passed, your muscles loosening and lungs began to function normally again. Meeting your reflection once more, you squared your shoulders and went through the process of readying yourself for the day.
Fifteen minutes later, you emerged and followed the heavenly smell wafting from the kitchen. The detective was just serving some hot eggs onto a plate for you and had also laid out some fruit and orange juice. You wandered into the kitchen and walked to his side. With his tattoo now in full view with better lighting, the colors were even more vibrant and breathtaking. The movement of his skin and the muscles underneath almost made the ink come alive, but after a captive moment, you reluctantly tore your eyes away.
"This looks amazing, thank you," you spoke, stomach growling once again.
"Hope it tastes as good," he said with a smile, handing the plate to you. "I'm sorry I don't have a kitchen table, it just never seemed necessary. I don't have a lot of guests. Hell, even I'M not here a lot, so..."
"It's no problem, really. I hear eating while standing is better for digestion anyway," you assured him.
He laughed, "Well, then I'm glad I'm terrible at home decor."
You grinned at him, taking a bite of your breakfast and then emitting an audible groan of pleasure.
"Good?" he asked.
"Oh, yeah," you replied, trying to pace yourself since this was your first proper meal since lunch yesterday.
The both of you ate, making small talk between bites as you leaned one hip against the counter top. You noticed the clock, occurring to you that normally you would be catching the train to work.
"Damn, I forgot to call work," you exclaimed, setting down your finished plate before you walked over to your purse in search of your phone. Pressing the home button yielded no response, so it seemed your phone had died. "I forgot to charge it."
"Here," he said, walking toward you, "use mine."
You accepted his phone with a thank you and dialed the number for work. You quickly but vaguely explained the situation and said you wouldn't be in today. Thankfully, you had a good history as an employee and your boss was understanding.
While you were on the phone, the detective must have gone to change because he exited the bedroom wearing his full suit and tie, looking every bit the professional. The dark blue suit accentuated the brightness in his eyes and nicely offset his olive skin tone.
"Ready to go?" he asked, gathering his badge and gun from a small safe in the hall closet.
"Yeah," you replied, grabbing your purse and phone charger for later. "Thank you, detective," you said, handing his phone back to him.
"You're welcome, Y/N. And at this point, I think you could call me Bucky," he said with a wink.
"Okay. Bucky," you repeated, his name rolling off your tongue pleasantly.
_________
Arriving at the station, there was a heightened buzz of activity and an electric excitement in the air. Detective Rogers met you and Bucky in the doorway, holding a file in his hands which he slapped against his partner's chest.
"We got a match," he said with a huge grin on his face. "There was only one usable fingerprint on Y/N's locket and we got a match. The initials Y/N saw on the knife make sense now. His name is Brock Rumlow."
YOU ARE READING
In the Arms of Justice
Fanfiction[Officer Bucky x reader AU] Reader is a witness to a crime, tying her to the investigation as well as the police involved. She never would have guessed how that one night would continue to change her life years later.
