Trying Your Luck - Bucky BarnesxOC

Part 44: Knife Tricks

Author's Note: Honestly, this is just a whole chapter of the wildest smut I've ever written. There is some aftercare and fluff toward the end. We'll pick back up with the plot in the next chapter.

CW/TW: A bit of knifeplay. It's nothing violent, just a bit of experimentation. Still, if this isn't something you're into, I would suggest skipping it. I use content warnings a lot so that people can avoid potential triggers or scenarios that might make them feel uncomfortable.

Bucky can't sleep. Insomnia sometimes goes hand in hand with his nightmares. They're starting to come back. Especially the one about Hotel Inessa. Even when he wakes up and pads into the kitchen to sit at the table, he can still hear the echoing of bones snapping, screams, and gunshots. Tonight, he's ripped from sleep again, sweat pouring down his face. The bedsheets stick to his body. Shannon lies motionless beside him, her plush lips parted as she snores softly. Bucky leans over to kiss her and creeps out of bed. He grabs his favorite combat knife out of his top drawer. His hands and brain need something repetitive and relatively mindless to do as he tries to mentally outrun the images from his nightmare. For some reason, flipping his favorite knife helps.

At first, Shannon was against him keeping weapons in the house, but after all of the shit that went down with Will, she's warmed to the idea. Bucky likes the comfort of them, especially his knives. Their heaviness feels familiar, safe, even. Is this him or the Winter Soldier? Lately, it's becoming apparent to him that he can't separate them as well as he thought. At certain points, they're completely intertwined. Years of conditioning and trauma means that his habits bleed into Bucky's, and vice versa.

It's 4:45am and he's sitting in the dark listening to music. Shannon's playlist. It's comforting. He's on his second cup of coffee as he flips the combat knife in his hands. The motion is hypnotic and he almost feels like an outsider as he watches his hand work, fingers confident and mechanical. Back and forth, back and forth, spinning it and twisting it between his fingers. Sometimes he tosses it in the air and catches it with his other hand before he thrusts it forward as if to stab an invisible opponent. It's been a while since he's used this thing in combat, but he hasn't lost his touch. Alpine is perched beside him, watching him intently as he flips the knife. She knows not to come any closer. Bucky looks over at her.

"Cool, huh?"

She blinks slowly at him and begins to purr, stretching herself out and yawning. Bucky sets the knife down on his thigh and reaches out to scratch her underneath the chin.

"Thanks for hanging out with me, Al."

She knows exactly when he needs her. Some nights when he wakes up and sneaks into the living room to watch television, she's already wide awake and sitting on the arm of the couch as though she's been waiting for him for hours. When he sits down and turns the TV on, she snuggles in his lap, her soft purr lulling him off to sleep again. He's become just as dependent on her as she has on him. His little shadow.

As he picks the knife back up and begins to flip it again, he hears the bedroom door creak. Shannon stumbles toward the bathroom, her head only turning when she notices the soft light from the kitchen. She squints and rubs her eyes.

"Bucky?"

"Yeah."

"Why are you sitting in the dark like a big weirdo assassin?"

He chuckles as Alpine leaps off of the table, winding herself between Shannon's legs, and trots into the bedroom to take her spot in the bed.

"I am a big weirdo assassin," Bucky replies.

"You were. And I was kidding, B."

She's been trying out new nicknames over the past week. His least favorite is "Bucky Bear", but it's caught on with Sam and now neither of them will stop calling him that whenever they're all together. It was cute when it came from Shannon, but when she accidentally let it slip in front of Sam, it was all over.