Eyes of Fire | Bucky Barnes

49

In. Out.

Breathe, Barnes. It's just a haircut.

He opened his eyes, his gaze falling onto his own reflection. Uxolo was fluttering around him, gathering the things she needed and stacking them on the bathroom counter. She'd put on a long robe, to cover her freshly cleaned skin, knowing that the hair falling from his head would get stuck to her otherwise. He laughed thinking about it; there wasn't a single part of him that wanted to be away from her, not even his hair.

"Are you ready, Bucky?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?" Was he? Not really, but it wasn't like he could postpone this indefinitely— he'd been the one to ask for it.

Bucky was a bit shy as he stuck his head out of the bathroom doorway, fingertips tapping along the wall in an unknowing bid to get Uxolo's attention from where she sat on the edge of the bed, applying some earthy-smelling lotion to her legs. She'd hopped in the shower before him, figuring she'd need longer to get completely ready than he would, and had just been finishing drying off when he entered the bathroom.

"Hey, 'Lo—" He started, blinking slowly.He tried not to get distracted with the way her fingertips trailed over her own skin, massaging the product in gently.

"D'you think I have time t'cut my hair?"

Uxolo smiled over at him, readjusting the strap of her bra over her shoulders. He was also trying to not get distracted by her near-bare state, something proving to be far more difficult than he would like.

"Of course, Bucky. Would you like my help?"

He responded quietly, lips tucked into his mouth slightly. "Yes, please."

"If you don't feel comfortable, tell me. We can stop at any moment." He nodded again, not trusting his voice. She was safe to trust, he repeated to himself. If anyone deserved his trust, it was her.

Uxolo approached and lifted her pair of scissors. She took a strand of hair and snapped the tool shut. A long piece fell to the floor. The first one. As she cut and cut his hair, he zoned out, eyes on his own reflection. All he could see was a man with wet hair bracketing a worn-out face. An old, weary soul trapped in a young-ish body.

A few minutes later, her soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Here. The rough cut is done. Are you still okay ?"

Bucky looked, really looked this time, at his face. His midnight hair was shorter, with parts spiking up in every direction. At the realisation, a small weight lifted from his chest. Part of him had still, unknowingly, associated his long hair with Hydra, and seeing it gone was a small relief.

Bucky levelled up his gaze to her eyes and gave her a nod, and a small smile. It was not much, but still one of the biggest these days. The gesture seemed enough for the woman, though, because she leaned in to kiss his cheek and continued. Piece by piece, his hair was modelled into a nice, neater, cut.

Uxolo hummed a gentle, familiar song as she worked, fluttering around his head like forest creatures around all of her Snow White.

As she finished, she gave him a huge smile, to which he reflected the best he could.

Bucky then studied himself. His new appearance.

His fringe still hung down over his face, but it only reached a little below the eyebrows. The sides were short enough so they no longer curled around his ears, and some part of him thought that if he slicked it back, he'd be the spitting image of the old Bucky. The one before the war, with the quick wit and the athletic prowess and the sunny, light-hearted attitude. Back when he liked to get into trouble for the heck of it, and nothing more.