Selfless Love

Chapter 2

After a few weeks, Bucky created his own routine. It helped him deal with his anxiety. He woke up every morning at 8am, even though he only slept three hours tops. Then, he padded his way to the kitchen where he ate his oatmeal and sipped his coffee. He spent his morning working out at the gym before he dealt with the paperwork and reports.

He hated paperwork with a passion, but he did it without complaining. His therapist suggested that he should socialize a bit, so he reluctantly joined the others for dinner.

His days were dull and monotonous and he liked them this way. For a moment at least. Now, he desperately needed some excitement.

One night, he was sitting at his desk, writing in his journal, when he heard groans and moans coming from the room next door. He looked up from his notebook and frowned. The clock Steve gave him read 3AM.

It took him a while to understand that those were not moans of pleasure. He peeked into the hallway and saw light under your door.

You came back from your mission with a large gash on your shoulder and assured Natasha and Tony that you were fine. You were in your bathroom, trying to reach the first-aid kit when someone knocked on your door. You grunted loudly and made your way to the door.

"Sir Bucky," you gasped at the sight of the long-haired soldier.

You cringed at the sound of your words. You could practically hear Clint's laugh ringing in your head. Bucky's concerned frown turned into an embarrassed smile.

"Just Bucky," he replied with an awkward chuckle, then cleared his throat. "Are you okay? You're kind of bleeding on the rug."

"Oh, that thing?" You casually gestured to the large wound on your shoulder. You tried to act as if it were just a scratch, but the pain was unbearable. "Yeah, it hurts so bad," you sighed, dropping the act. "Can you help me?"

Bucky pushed the door open and closed it once he was inside. He told you to sit on the bed while he went to the bathroom to take the first-aid kit. When he came back, he saw you grimacing at your wound.

He sat next to you and soaked some clean rag in iodine. You jumped when he started to clean your wound. You pressed your eyes shut, focusing on happy thoughts. He was quiet, too quiet for your liking. Your grunts and groans echoed through the room, making you feel like an idiot.

The tip of his tongue poked out in concentration while he stitched you up. His warm breath fanned across your neck and shoulder. You shivered.

"It tickles."

"The needle?" he asked with a curious frown.

"No, your breath."

"Sorry."

You relaxed when he wrapped a strip of gauze around your shoulder. He made sure it wasn't too tight before he gathered the dirty compresses.

"Thank you." You smiled sheepishly as he opened your bedroom door.

"No problem."

His tight smile made you feel like you had upset him. You wrapped your non-injured arm around your middle, trying to seek some comfort. Bucky noticed the pained expression on your face and tried to muster up a nice smile, but you were no longer looking at him. He returned to his room, cursing himself for being so awkward.

The next morning, at precisely 7AM, a loud noise startled him out of his sleep. His instincts kicked in. He burst into your bedroom, his gun drawn and his senses on high alert. He scanned the room, then lowered his weapon when he saw you lying on the carpeted floor, your injured arm in a sling.

"Morning." You grinned through the pain. "I was trying to get dressed, but it's not easy with only one hand."

"I know the feeling." He held out his hand to help you up.

You told him your name. "Nice to finally meet you. So, do you like your room?" He nodded and you tilted your head, smiling. "You don't talk very much... I don't mind."

Bucky looked down at his feet and grinned. When he raised his head, you were staring at him. His smile faltered and he felt his face grow hot. A smile touched your lips when you saw a deep flush creep up from his neck to his cheeks.

"Breakfast?" he offered with a small shrug.

You nodded enthusiastically and walked with him to the kitchen. Everyone was already up, you noticed Wanda's favourite mug in the sink and a note from Clint wishing everyone a good day. Such a dad.

"Yikes!" you scrunched up your nose as Bucky set a bowl of oatmeal on the table. "You're gonna eat that?"

Bucky nodded and sat at the kitchen table. Dipping his spoon into the cooling oatmeal, he watched you move around the kitchen. He chuckled quietly when you started singing to yourself.

"How's your shoulder?" he asked after a moment.

"Okay, I guess. It hurts a bit." You bit into a piece of toast and pushed the food into your cheek to leave room for talking. "I've never been injured before."

"Newbie?"

You chuckled. "Nope, I'm just really good."

"So what happened?"

"Twenty agents, one little old me. There's only so much a girl can take."

Bucky didn't talk much, but he enjoyed listening to you talk. He loved the way you expressed yourself: vulnerable, yet strong. Entranced by your voice and your stories, he watched you with a smile on his face.