epiphany. (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Chapter Seventeen

TRIGGER WARNING: Smut (FINALLY!) and whump.

"Love doesn't discriminate

Between the sinners

And the saints

It takes and it takes and it takes

And we keep loving anyway"

~*~*~*~

S.H.I.E.L.D. Chalet. The Austrian Alps. January 2015.

Bucky sat you down on a stool in the bathroom you shared. He turned the water on in the tub, running a bath. Steam rose off the water, curling in soft tendrils. You allowed your gaze to become unfocused as you stared at the steam; you felt drained. Your clothes were soaked with snow. They clung to your body. You shivered violently, teeth chattering.

Kneeling down next to the stool, Bucky looked to you for confirmation, which you gave, before helping you remove your socks, then your henley, and finally your leggings. Still in your black bralette and underwear, he picked you up and placed you in the water.

The hot water stung your cold skin; you winced slightly, adjusting to the temperature. You sat in the tub, resting your chin on your knees. You let the water drive the chill from your bones. The tension in your body melted away slowly. Bucky remained by your side; every so often he poured the warm water over your exposed skin.

"I'm sorry, James," you whispered after a while.

"What for, doll?" he asked.

"For these past two weeks. For making you worry. For shutting you out."

"You don't need to apologize."

"You didn't deserve that. I told you I would help you and I've been selfish."

"You didn't do anything wrong. You're grieving. People grieve in different ways."

You nodded solemnly; you knew you weren't going to win this fight.

When the color returned to your skin and the water had begun to cool, Bucky helped you out of the tub. He wrapped you in a towel, "Dry off; I'll bring you some new clothes."

You discarded your wet undergarments when he closed the bathroom door. Sitting on the stool, you began to pat yourself dry. You heard a soft knock at the door. Wrapping the towel tightly around you, you opened it. Bucky handed you a sweatshirt, sweatpants, and some underwear. His fingers grazed yours. The familiar buzz his touch gave you was comforting.

"I'll be in the kitchen," he said.

You nodded.

He gave you a small smile as you shut the door.

You dressed carefully, noting the sweatshirt to be one of his. It smelled like him. You brought it to your nose, inhaling deeply, allowing his scent to relax you. You ran a brush through your hair and then brushed your teeth. Slowly but surely, feeling like a human again.

You padded into the kitchen, where Bucky leaned against the counter, swirling some whiskey in a glass before taking a sip. You walked over and took his hand squeezing it once. He smiled and squeezed back. He offered you the glass; you took a sip then handed it back to him. You wrapped your arms around his waist, placing your head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady, calming. He sat the glass down on the counter and returned your embrace, placing his temple on the crown of your head. He rubbed your back.