bucky barnes imagines

lxxxi. LOVE

When Bucky walked into the living room and saw you curled up in a ball on the couch, he knew something was wrong. You were one of the most energetic people he'd ever met, and it was only mid afternoon – there was just no way you could possibly be tired yet.

"Y/N?" he called hesitantly, kneeling by your side. "Is everything okay?"

His heart melted as you tilted your head up to look at him with lidded eyes and an uncharacteristic frown. When you pouted and reached your arms out towards him, he cooed and took your hand, gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

"I have a headache," you grumbled. "And a stomach ache. And my leg hurts."

"Oh, sweetheart," Bucky sighed, moving his free hand up to stroke your hair reassuringly and smiling when you leaned into his touch. "What do you need?"

That was one of your favourite things about him – he was always so attentive and caring. When you neglected to look after yourself, he was always there to remind you to eat, drink and sleep. Whenever you didn't feel completely okay, he would stick by your side, his gently murmured praises and occasional forehead kisses helping to ground you once more. Even at times like this, when all you needed were some painkillers and cuddles, he was right there, always ready to go above and beyond just to make things easier for you.

"Ibuprofen, please," you whispered. "And... can we go lay in bed?"

"Of course, babydoll. Hold on a second."

You whined childishly as Bucky withdrew his hand from yours, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out for you again, to hold your hand and never let go. He collected the medication and a bottle of water as quickly as he could and returned to you in no more than one minute, placing a kiss to your slightly flushed cheek before he helped you to sit up.

As soon as you'd swallowed the pills, he scooped you into his arms, carrying you as if you were a new bride – one day you would be, he told himself. A life with you, a family even, seemed almost too good to be true. Honestly, neither of you believed that you deserved each other; "I'm not good enough for you" was a frequent utterance on bad days. You could only hope that confidence would come with age, that eventually the two of you would notice that a relationship so perfect was something you'd both earned the rights to.

As soon as Bucky set you down on the bed, you relaxed, alleviating the aching tension that plagued your muscles. He took off his shirt before laying beside you, knowing that you loved to feel his skin against yours, to rest your head on his chest and focus on the steady thump of his heartbeat until everything else melted away. When it came down to it, it was just you and him.

You snuggled up to him immediately, finally smiling when his arms circled your waist to pull you even closer. The temperature contrast between metal and skin was soothing to you – despite what most people would think, the vibranium wasn't harsh or off-putting at all, just a little cool.

When you absentmindedly kissed his collarbone, Bucky knew he was blushing. You had the ability to do that, to turn him into a nervous, stuttering mess with only one movement. But he loved it, he loved you, more than he ever knew how to express. And you loved him too, everything about him, even if he hadn't learned to love himself yet.

Neither of you spoke after that. The painkillers began to take effect, dulling the soreness that had brought you here in the first place, until you actually felt completely fine again. Still, you remained motionless, warm and content and home in Bucky's embrace.

You fell asleep first. He noticed when he glanced down at you that your eyes had drifted shut, and you were breathing deeply. He saw how peaceful you looked, how a hint of a smile tugged at your lips as he stroked the pad of his thumb against your cheekbone. He wasn't tired yet, in fact, he was supposed to be meeting Sam for training in fifteen minutes, but he'd already decided that he wasn't going anymore. He'd happily skip out on any event ever if it meant that he got to stay with you.

Bucky hoped you were dreaming of him, like he so often dreamed of you; before he met you, his sleep was broken and filled with night terrors. But you calmed him, just like he calmed you, because that was love.

Love. He didn't think he was worthy of it, but you did. And he decided that must be good enough.