(Y/N) didn't utter a word when Steve left, he just filled up a second mug with tea and handed it to his guest. Bucky went to open his mouth, presumably to thank him, but (Y/N) had already left the house. Belinda and Wilfred were outside chewing on the grass. The two goats began to bleat excitedly when they saw him, trotting across the lawn where he crouched down. 'Going to have a guest for a while,' he muttered, giving each of them a crab apple from his pocket. Belinda let out a little grunt. 'Shouldn't be for too long,' he told her, stroking her beard before giving her and Wilf another crab apple each.
He led them into the shed and filled up their water trough before making his way back inside. Bucky wasn't there anymore, but Dr (L/N) didn't mind. A small part of him wondered whether or not it had in fact been a dream, but the full mug he'd handed Bucky just over an hour ago was now empty – indicating that it was all real.
Ignoring the unknown whereabouts of James Barnes, (Y/N) searched his cupboards, pulling out two jars of tomato soup and a bottle of vodka. He let out a frustrated sigh when he went to light the stove, realising there was no wood left underneath. 'For fuck's sake!' he exclaimed indignantly.
'What's wrong?' Bucky Barnes asked, entering the house, and shutting the door behind him.
'Ran out of fucking wood haven't I,' cursed (Y/N) (L/N), his fists tensing, 'tea's going to be late.'
Bucky walked forward, his arms filled with a stack of perfectly cut logs. He dropped them to the floor, and proceeded to fill the stove, lighting the logs with a match he plucked from the inside pocket of his jacket and some kindling, 'I saw your wood pile had gotten low, so thought I'd cut some for you.'
'Well, isn't that kind,' (Y/N) replied facetiously, reaching for the first jar, attempting to twist the lid off. Bucky took the jar off of him, removing the lid with ease, before doing the same to the next one. 'I could do it myself,' he grunted, 'I can cut wood. I can open a fucking jar.'
'I...'
'I'm quite capable,' growled (Y/N), pouring the contents of the jars into a pan, and placing it on top of the stove, 'seventy years I've got on just fine.'
Bucky looked down at him, bewilderment playing across his face, 'I didn't say you couldn't,' he said timidly, 'I was just trying to help.' (Y/N) rested his hands on the counter, taking a deep breath before pouring himself and Bucky a cup full of vodka.
He slid the second tumbler over to Bucky, who turned his nose up at the drink. There was nothing much he could do to quell the resentment he felt towards James Barnes but offering him a drink and pretending he wasn't as confused, and infuriated as he actually was, was a start. 'Do you not drink now or something?'
'I don't like vodka.'
'You don't drink it because it's nice,' (Y/N) grumbled.
'Can't seem to get drunk no more,' Bucky shrugged his shoulders, sliding the drink back over to (Y/N), 'wouldn't want to waste it.'
'Suit yourself,' (Y/N) (L/N) rolled his eyes, swallowing the contents of his glass before reaching for the one he'd filled for Bucky.
James Barnes's eyes drifted over to the bookshelf above the fireplace, scanning the titles on the spines. 'The Hobbit,' he chuckled, picking the book up off of the shelf, 'I remember that.' (Y/N) watched him from the kitchen as he stirred the soup in the pan, adding a little salt and pepper. 'I lent this to you, and you read it in two days.'
'That's your copy,' (Y/N) replied, trying hard to be polite as he rested two bowls full of tomato soup on the kitchen table, 'you put your name on the inside cover.' The two sat down, picking up their spoons and digging in.
YOU ARE READING
The Red Soldier: Rise of the Red Soldier
Fanfiction(Y/N) (L/N) had finally found peace, away from the horrors civilisation held. He'd found a solace when surrounded by his own grief, but a jet plane parked outside his front door changed all of that seventy years after the death of his two friends.
