Love and Winter (Bucky Barnes) Hiatus

4 - to feel someone's touch

Her question caught him off guard, why would anyone want to see his monstrosity of an arm? Of course she didn't know that he had used it for killing. Hesitantly he nodded his head, knowing he was wearing a thin shirt that was rolled up to just below his elbow, effectively hiding the hideous, scarred skin on his shoulder and also the offending star.

Reagan watched quietly as he first pulled off his leather gloves and then how he got to his feet before shrugging out of his jacket, revealing more of his strong upper body. As he settled back in the chair he could feel her eyes on him, but to his surprise it stuck to his normal right arm for a long while. Then she looked at his metal one, her eyes lighting up slightly.

"Does it move normally, or...?"

"Yeah," he replied - moving his metal arm so that it was palm up almost out of reflex.

"That's amazing," she whispered, "it looks so lifelike! How does it even work?"

Her head was cocked to the side in confusion, eyes looking up and down his arm while her fingers twisted in her own lap as though she was itching to touch it.

"I am an experiment so to speak," he started slowly, deciding to stick as close to the truth as possible now that she knew about the arm. "After the... accident, they wanted to try something new and attached the metal along with sensors straight into my shoulder. I was halfway dead, so why not experiment?" He knew he sounded bitter, but he was allowed to, he was bitter.

"That must have hurt a lot," she said, her voice soft. The caring tone of voice surprised him, but when she reached out for his arm he flinched back the metal of his arms clicking and whirring as it moved. She stopped for a moment, but then moved forwards again, her hand landing on his lower arm, fingers carefully putting some pressure on the whirring plates.

"Be careful," he said, his voice barely above a whisper; "your skin might be caught in between the metal-plates."

"I'll be fine," she said with a small smile, her eyes fastened on the moving plates. "This is an amazing piece of work, why do you hide it?"

"I don't like it," he replied honesty.

She pulled her hands back, letting them both fall to her sides as she looked up at him with her mismatched eyes; "I am really sorry."

"For what?" James almost unconsciously leaned forwards, his head ended up a lot closer to hers than it had originally been.

Slowly, she reached forwards again - her two hands taking hold of his mismatched ones, "it's hard not liking a part of yourself, James - doesn't matter if it's a part you are born with-" she gestured to her own eyes; "or if it is a part that someone else constructed on you."

With another small smile she pulled her hands back, her eyes lowering slightly from his.

He found himself wanting to reach for her. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he wanted to feel someone else's touch. James didn't act on it however, instead looking down at his fingers for a moment before speaking up again; "you need to get back to bed."

"Sure, mother." He could hear the laughter in her voice, but he wasn't sure if he understood her joke - so he said nothing.

Reagan started to move towards the bed, but stumbled over her own feet, her eyelashes fluttering slightly as she groaned. James caught her before she hit the floor, his arms wrapping around her and bringing her into his chest. Slowly he got up from his slightly crouched position, carefully bringing her with him until they were both upright.

For a long while he just held her there, her body pressed against his and his arms wrapped tightly around her body to hold her up.

"James?" Reagan murmured softly, "are you alright?"