Bucky One-Shots and Imagines

Birthdays

Birthdays weren't usually fun for Bucky. He'd spent the last few not knowing who he was and the ones before that, at war. He rolled out of bed with a disgruntled groan and rubbed his eyes, sitting up. His hair fell a tangled mess at his shoulders and he looked at it with a disgusted expression on his face before getting up to walk to the bathroom.

He stopped as something new entered his vision. Something that hadn't been there before.

It was a box, black and wrapped with a satin bow. He studied it, waiting for it to explode or hurl him into outer space but it didn't. It just sat there, making its presence known. Bucky's forehead furrowed in confusion as he picked it up in his hands, undoing the bow and immediately throwing the box back onto the bed, waiting for the explosion. But nothing.

It was just a normal box.

It was only 5 am, way too early for anyone except him to be up. Bucky found it difficult to catch slumber and rarely got around 2-4 hours of it, the action corresponding to dark shadows appearing around his eyes.

He tentatively opened the lid and gasped at the item inside, pulling it out. It was a black button up, made of a mixture of cotton and silk. He looked at the piece of paper that fluttered out when he straightened the shirt and picked it up.

"Happy birthday" it said in neat, cursive handwriting, confusing Bucky further. He held up the present to light and inspected the material, looking for a tag, or any sign of this being bought from a vendor.

But no. Someone had taken the time to sew him a shirt.

He peeled off his t-shirt and slipped into the item, the material quite comfortable against him. It fit him just right and even though the sleeves hung a bit lopsided, it was perfectly put together. He buttoned it up and went into his bathroom.

He stared at his reflection in the small mirror, hands gripping the sink after he splashed water on his face. He stared at the man staring back at him. That wasn't him.

The man staring back was gruff, and had long, unruly hair, sunken eyes and torn skin around them. That man looked nothing like him. That man was a dead person walking. Bucky allowed himself to think for a while, quietly, his eyes closed. How had he allowed himself to slip this far? To lose himself so greatly? Hydra didn't control him anymore, and yet he still couldn't get himself together.

Something clicked inside him and he opened the first cabinet on the right, pulling out a pair of scissors.

*****
You sat in the kitchen, your eyes barely open. You were mumbling sounds of consent at Clint as you spooned soggy cereal into your mouth, who sat beside you chattering non-stop about this dog he met at the park yesterday. Steve was chugging cups of coffee and you wondered how it was humanly possible for a person to consume that much caffeine as you cracked open your third can of Coca Cola.

"Hey, Y/N, could you pour me some milk in my cereal?"

"Sure,"

Nat was trying to fry bacon, failing miserably and Peter stood beside her watching the collateral damage take place. It was a rare occasion to have Tony present in the kitchen for breakfast, as he usually spent most of the morning wallowing in his sorrow so frequently that it had become part of his routine. He sat opposite you, shoving scrambled eggs in his mouth, one after the other. You raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged his shoulders, smiling.

"Y/N, what the fuck?" Clint said and you turned to him.

"What?"

"You poured juice in my fucking cereal," Clint almost yelled.

Your eyes widened and you looked down at the carton, still clutched in your grasp. Sure enough, the carton you beheld had the words Orange Juice; 100% sugar-free printed onto it.

"Sorry, I'm really tired," You said, trying to sound sincere but failing because you could really give less fucks about Clint and his OJ cereal.
It was Bucky's birthday and you were already stressed enough about the present. Not to mention that the mission you had the night before really took a toll on your physical health.

"Yeah,yeah, whatever," Clint replied, rolling his eyes, "Nat, could you pass me the cereal?"

Natasha stood hands on hips in front of the stove, as if trying to get it to obey her and fry the bacon properly. She sighed and turned it off, giving up, as she reached into the cabinet for the box of fruit loops Clint had demanded.

"It's finished," she stated and handed Peter a plate of burnt bacon strips, giving a him a apologetic smile. He didn't seem to care because he was so hungry, he immediately sat down and started spooning it in his mouth.

"It's what?"

"It's finished," Nat repeated, "Gone, Over, End, Nada, Zilch,"

Here we go you thought to yourself.

"Great!" Clint shouted, "That's fucking great! Amazing, thank you so much, Y/N, for ruining my chance to have a good breakfast for once,"

"Do you want some of my bacon strips, Mr. Hawk?" Peter asked, his mouth stuffed to the brim with bacon.

"No, thank you, spidey, I'll just go to work hungry, thanks to Y/N,"

"Work?" You scoffed, "What work? You barely ever show up to missions,"

"Maybe it's because I know how to take responsibility for the people I love, and NOT pour Orange Juice in their breakfast,"

"Maybe if you'd stop being a little bitch about everything I could focus on what I'm doing," you retorted and you guys' argument escalated quickly, both of you stood up in your seats, shouting insults at each other.

Steve was trying desperately to make you both shut up and Nat and Tony could care less, both of them ignoring you both bickering. Peter watched with interest, as if watching a soap opera.

Suddenly, everyone went quiet as a new person entered the room. The person was tall, and clean shaven, with piercing blue eyes and hair cut and styled into a quiff. He was dressed in a black, collared shirt, the colour complimenting his complexion beautifully. The air around him radiated anxiousness as he walked into the room. All eyes were on him and you could see him tense at the attention and then relax.

It seemed as if Steve mirrored your thoughts because he was the first to speak,
"Bucky?"

The guy smiled, confirming your suspicions and it was such a rare and beautiful occasion that you wanted that smile to grace his lips forever,
"Hi guys," He said, plopping onto the chair beside you and you grinned at him.

"You look great, Buck," Nat said, giving him a small smile.

"Yeah, dude, you look fresh as hell,"

"Thank god you cut that hair, you don't know how many times I've wanted to shave it off while your asleep," Tony stated, the first time he'd spoken all morning.

You guys engaged in friendly conversation until Sam swooped in, sitting beside Tony,

"Hey, guys, sorry I'm late, big explosion down the street anyways I was," Sam paused mid sentence, his eyes narrowed into dark slits at Bucky before he turned to the rest of the team,

"Uhh..who's the new guy?" And everyone bursts out laughing at Sam's confused face.

You lean into Bucky's ear, your breath tickling his sweet spot and he freezes.

"Happy birthday, did you like your present?" You say softly and he gives you a big smile, his eyes sparkling so wildly it's as if Catherine wheels are going off in his head.

"Thank you," he whispers back and pulls you in for a tight hug and for the first time the entire morning, you relish in human contact, your face buried in his chest.