Eyes of Fire | Bucky Barnes

50

Bucky was doing better this time, he thought. He had been able to answer the casual questions from Uxolo's acquaintances so far, and had even managed to crack a couple halfhearted jokes.

It'd been hard enough watching Uxolo tell everyone who asked that he was her boyfriend, watching everyone glance between the two of them as if the image wouldn't load in their heads. She hadn't backed down, though, never shying away from clearing away any of their confusion and reasserting their relationship.

But at this question, his hands clenched into fists where they rested in his lap.

His right palm was littered with red crescents where his nails had pressed too deep against his skin, but that was easy enough to ignore— what made him cringe was the whirring of his vibranium arm, the attention he knew it was drawing. He tried to relax his shoulder, to release the tension from the metal, but it was of no use. The bionic buzzing was a dead giveaway, proof of how his anxiety and adrenaline surged at the mention of it.

He wished he had his gloves— they would at least mask the sound, the hum of his freakish physicality. Gloves would make it less noticeable, to both him and the people surrounding him, even Uxolo, who held his heart in her hands.

But there was a reason he left his gloves that day, and he was reminded of it as soon as those hands, Uxolo's sweet hands, wrapped around his.

"When did you get this nosy, umakazi?" She said in his stead, giving him just a moment to speak, if he wished, before filling the silence.

The woman in questioned shrugged, laughing, "Kufuneka ndiqinisekise ukuba indoda yeyona nto ilungileyo kuUxolo wethu." (I have to make sure this man is the best thing for our Uxolo.)

Her skin was warm against him, but the sweat on his palm and the iciness of the metal didn't deter her. She focused her touch on his vibranium hand, rubbing at the plates, massaging the creases between them. Unfolding his fingers one by one, kneading into what would be the flesh of his palm until those artificial nerves were mollified enough to unwind.

He took a deep breath, squeezing her hand to let her know it was okay.

"Ndandisemfazweni." He recited, brokenly, quickly recalling the lesson Uxolo had given him.

At first, she had assured him that if anyone asked, if anyone made him uncomfortable about it, he did not owe them an answer. She'd joked about them both staring, in silence, until they got the message and left them alone.

Bucky hadn't wanted that, though. He'd wanted to be able to communicate with these people who had taken him in, be able to share the most basic part of him. He was better about it, now, so it was time to show that.

The phrase was relatively easy to say, a shorthand way to say that he'd been at war, that his activities there had caused his injury, and the metal arm everyone was currently staring at.

"Ndandilijoni." He continued uncertainly, directing his face a bit towards Uxolo so he could ensure he was saying it correctly. She nodded, encouraging, squeezing his hand as he spoke.

This time, explaining his status, describing that he wasn't just at war, that he was a soldier within it. Fighting for the wills of his country.

"Bucky is a sergeant." Uxolo clarified proudly, nudging his shoulder with hers as she translated effortlessly, "iBucky yam ngusajini."

Bucky tried to smile, succeeded partly just because of how fond it made him to see how proud she was of him for it, for all of this. She hadn't left out that detail, the fact that he'd not only been a soldier, willing to give his life for the safety of others, but he'd been a leader within that entire industry. He'd earned his status, through dedication and hard work.

The people nodded in understanding, a bit more able to accept his physical deformity now that they knew the source of it. He was lucky that he hadn't come across any specifically ignorant people, just yet, those who would call him a freak of nature or demand that he remove the non-flesh from his body.

Wakandans were kind, though, and understanding when given the necessary information. He hadn't had a single problem, at least not from external sources.

It wasn't too long after that Uxolo managed to drag him away from everyone, easily escaping the endless questions and conversations about what America was like, whether the shows and movies were anything real, or how he'd ended up here.

They'd ticked a lot off of their list; they'd eaten, they'd observed the decorations, they had chatted with the party-goers. Now, all that was left to do was to dance, and Uxolo knew it.

She held his hand, secure, and walked them both towards the dance floor, twisting towards him once they reached a pleasantly secluded side of the room.

"I'm sorry, about that." Uxolo rushed to say, squeezing his hands.

" 's no problem." Bucky said quietly, and shuffled a step towards her. Before, he would've been so insecure about being so close to her that he wouldn't have even gotten up to dance; but he'd seen the way the other couples had danced, seen the way no one batted an eye at them, so he felt a bit more encouraged.

"I am beyond proud of you, Bucky." She said, eyes so soft and sincere that it made Bucky's chest twist. Ache a bit, because god, he'd never been in love before, but he was sure that this is what it felt like.

It'd been easy to fall in love with Uxolo

Uxolo, with her sparkling bright eyes and unbearably beautiful smile. Uxolo, who was so, so warm to the touch, so warm to even look at that it physically pained Bucky at first, so he had kept his distance as he tried to keep himself in check.

Bucky couldn't pinpoint what exactly led him to this, if it had been her smile that was more radiant than the twinkling decorations surrounding them, or how they had shared their meals together, or how Uxolo's delicate fingers slotted perfectly into his like it was meant to be there, or how Uxolo had laughed happily when he had kissed all along the edges of her face—

Bucky couldn't pinpoint the why's and the how's.

He couldn't narrow down the weight of his feelings to one specific thing, because Uxolo was everything all at once, so open and wonderful and perfect even in ways that he wasn't — especially in ways that he wasn't. She might make him feel like he's floating in the clouds, but she grounded him, too. Kept him anchored when everything was too fast, too loud, too overwhelming.

His mouth opened, the words yearning to spill out, before Bucky could even fully realize how bad he wanted to say it.

"Uxolo, I— fuck, I—"

She adjusted her grip on his shoulders, shuffling a bit closer to she could fully wrap her arms around his neck.

Uxolo smiled up at him, eyes all soft and so full of unabashed love that it made his chest twist further, crumble beneath the weight of her stare. Knowing, always knowing. "I love you too, Bucky."

"Fuck, I love you." Bucky repeated the sentiment, breathed the words out now that the dam had been broken by her own admission, before he slid his mouth over hers.

Until there was nothing but warmth, nothing but Uxolo, under his skin, in his veins, and it filled his heart so much that it could burst.