bucky barnes imagines

xix. HALLOWEEN

"Bucky, help me!"

You heard your husband's loud footsteps echoing throughout the house as he ran into the living room, a panicked look on his face. His expression softened once he set eyes on you, standing on a chair with your legs tangled in intricate pumpkin shaped fairy lights.

"God, Y/N," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, "you scared me. I thought you were in trouble!"

"I am!" you whined, gesturing to your legs.

Stepping carefully through the mess of Halloween decorations, Bucky picked you up bridal style and carried you over to the couch before gradually freeing you from the lights, tossing them onto the floor when he was done. He kissed your nose and gave you a small smile as he left the room again, presumably to go back to bed.

You frowned disappointedly as you stood up to continue decorating. It was your fourth Halloween with Bucky, yet he still hated the festival as much as he did when the two of you first met. You knew that he hated seeing happy children dressed up as their favourite superheroes – Iron Man, Captain America, Spider-Man and more. It reminded him of his past and caused him to think that he would always be seen as a villain, which wasn't the case at all.

However, you'd learnt that Bucky couldn't be persuaded to join in with the festivities, no matter how happy it would make you. So you simply celebrated alone, decorating and handing out candy before heading to your shared bedroom to comfort him by cuddling with him until you both fell asleep.

At around six o'clock in the evening, you heard the first knock at the door. You opened it with a huge grin on your face as you saw three small children dressed up as witches.

"Trick or treat!" they yelled happily. You complimented their costumes while letting them take their pick of the many types of candy you'd bought. The contented smiles on their faces made you just as happy.

Throughout the night, you continued to open the door to the trick or treaters. After a few hours, you were becoming tired and decided that, as it was getting late, you would lock the door and call it a day.

However, as you approached with the key, you heard another knock at the door. "Okay, one more," you muttered to yourself, swinging the door open once again.

"Trick or treat," a shy voice mumbled.

Standing in front of you was a boy who couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old. His costume was simple – a dark brown, shoulder length wig, and a left arm made carefully out of tin foil, with a red cardboard star pinned to the side.

You hurriedly leaned down to his height so you could speak directly to him.

"Happy Halloween! You wait here while I get the candy for you, okay?"

He nodded, grinning. You sprinted into the bedroom and grabbed Bucky's arm, dragging him roughly into the hall despite his angry protests.

"You have to see this," you murmured, pointing to the child who was waiting patiently. Bucky fell silent and you glanced at him, nervously awaiting his reaction.

After a few seconds, he hesitantly walked towards the door. You could tell that the child recognised Bucky immediately because his eyes lit up and he set down his bucket of candy, jumping excitedly up and down.

You looked on happily as the pair began to talk. You couldn't hear most of what they were saying, but you heard the young boy tell Bucky that he was his favourite superhero because of his bravery and how awesome his metal arm was.

After a few minutes, Bucky picked up your selection of candy. Smiling, he handed the entire bag to the child, who thanked him in amazement as he skipped down the path. You finally shut and locked the door before turning to Bucky. His eyes were slightly glazed over, as if he was in a dream.

"H-he called me a hero..." he whispered.

"Yes," you replied, sliding your hand into his and wrapping your spare arm around his shoulders, "and he was absolutely right."