Stucky One Shots

OTP Collection of Three

So. Another OTP collection. Hope you guys like these. :)

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Bucky sits there quietly, frowning. Sometimes the man he loved was an idiot. Today was apparently one of those times.

"How many times did I tell you," he speaks, side-eyeing Steve, "to be careful setting up fireworks?"

Steve groans in response, eyes closed. A good portion of his body was burnt and bruised, and there was still a ringing in his ears.

"I'm sure it was a great birthday gift, too," Bucky mutters.

"Didn't get away quick enough," Steve croaks.

"I noticed," Bucky says dryly, leaning closer. He studies the bandages and winces for him. "How long are they keeping you in here?"

Steve shifts a little to get comfortable. "'Bout a week, I think." Bucky nods.

"I'll be here most of the time, okay?" Steve nods at Bucky's words, glad he doesn't have to be all alone. Bucky shakes his head and kisses Steve's forehead. "You are a moron, though, right?"

"Mhmm, lecture me later?" Steve sighs. Bucky hums, shifting closer.

"I think you learned your lesson," he speaks.

"I promise to be careful lighting explosives on fire," he mutters, wincing a little. Bucky's face softens and he nods again.

////

Steve growls in frustration and messes up his hair, as if shaking it might clear his head. He leans back on his stool and studies his canvas, squinting at it, like it can tell him the answers to life.

"So how's it going?" Bucky asks cheerfully as he steps in with a cup of coffee in hand. Steve moans in response, pushing his hair back and making it stand every which way.

"I'm going to punch a hole in this god**** painting, that's what," he hisses, stabbing a finger at it. Bucky tsks and walks over, placing the coffee next to his boyfriend. He rubs his shoulders and looks at the large blank canvas. Steve had been sitting here for almost four hours, trying to figure out what to paint for an art show coming up. He hadn't the faintest idea.

"That sounds like fun, can I do that too?" Bucky asks. Steve huffs and tilts his head back, staring up at him, suddenly forming an idea.

"Hey, Buck," he begins in a nicer tone. Bucky raises an eyebrow at him. "Will you be my muse again? Pretty please?"

Bucky groans and steps back, and Steve pouts. "Steve, I hate seeing myself in your things. It's like photographs," he complains. This wasn't the first time - Steve always asked for his help, and generally, Bucky always complied.

"I'll draw someone completely different, that's what I've done before. I just need a base to go off of." Bucky looks disgruntled still, crossing his arms over his chest. Steve swivels to face him. "What would it take? I could do dinner?" Bucky frowns, considering. "And I'll do the chores you hate. For a week," Steve adds and Bucky levels his gaze, huffing impatiently.

"Fine," he sighs and Steve smiles. Bucky kisses his forehead and wanders over to where he usually sits, by the window.

Steve starts sketching, hoping inspiration might strike. Bucky sits fairly patiently for hours, his head resting against the cold window. Steve purses his lips as he concentrates, leaning into the sketch.

After a couple hours Bucky glances at him, silently asking if he can move. Steve nods and Bucky stretches out, sighing.

Bucky walks over and looks at the sketch. It was a simple line drawing outlining him, but with no discernible details. Bucky nods in satisfaction.

"Thank you," Steve hums, smiling at him. Bucky rolls his eyes but finds himself smiling back.

////

So sad one here, sorry folks. That's just the prompt.

Bucky had had many girlfriends. His last one left after he realized he was gay, and actually really liked Steve. This girlfriend apparently got pregnant, and she ran away instead of caring for it, leaving a baffled Bucky to care for a baby all by himself. Problem was, this baby was already sick, which was why his ex fled.

Steve wasn't mad as Bucky expected him to be. He was incredibly supportive, and helped out to the point of part raising the kid as well.

But... the child, named Zachary, got really, really sick.

Zachary passed away before his first birthday.

Bucky closed himself off in his room. Steve rarely saw him. They were both mourning in their own way.

Steve forces himself out of his room. He had to find a way to cope, somehow. He calls up Tony and quietly explains what happened, then asks for advice.

"You could try getting him a puppy, or a kitten," Tony suggests, and Steve frowns.

"That might be more of an insult than something good," he speaks. "We just lost a child, Tony."

Tony pauses, rubbing his eyes. "I know. I'm sorry, Steve. That's all I can think of."

Steve manages a tired smile. "Yeah, I know. Sorry. Thank you, I'll consider it," he sighs.

"We're here for you guys, okay? Just give me a call whenever you need to talk, I'll be free," Tony promises. Steve runs a hand through his hair, glancing back to Bucky's room.

"We appreciate that," he says. "Thank you." Tony hangs up and Steve does the same, thinking.

Bucky stares blankly at his lap days later, tears dripping down his face. Steve gently knocks and he hastily wipes his face and clears his throat. "Yeah." Steve opens the door and offers him a timid smile.

"Hey," he says softly. Bucky doesn't have the strength to muster a smile back. "I got you something," he speaks and Bucky looks up at him, eyes red. Steve pulls his other hand into view and there sits a kitten, grey and white, sleeping in the palm of his hand. Bucky stares wordlessly at it, more tears streaking his cheeks.

"Steve..?"

Steve hands the kitten over and Bucky strokes it gently and swallows. "Steve -- I know what you're trying to do, but I don't -- " He bites his lip.

"I know there's no replacing what we've lost, and you need time," Steve speaks quietly.

Bucky stares at the kitten and finally offers Steve a weak smile. He blinks rapidly to try not to cry. Steve sits beside him and Bucky leans into him, finally breaking down in front of him.

Bucky holds the kitten gingerly in one hand and clings to Steve with the other, shoulders shaking as he sobs. Steve holds him close, rubbing his back.

Bucky named the kitten Z, and took special care of it. He and Steve slowly healed, and Z didn't act as a replacement, he was to help them cope. It seemed to work in the long run.

They still had the occasional break down, of course; there was no forgetting what had happened. But slowly, they healed.

////

Another collection done. What do you guys think, should I do without the all-in-one prompts? I personally find them easier to do, so I can whack out multiple stories in one update, however short. Well, let me know if you want me to continue with 'em.

ALSO: I think I've found an update schedule. I should be able to manage publishing something every Saturday.