Marvel Imagines/Preferences

Winter's Bite

I was a southerner born and raised. I loved the hot sunshine and mucky humid heat that hit me like a freight train everytime I opened the front door. I hated the cold so naturally visiting the Big Apple in the middle of December isn't something I enjoy. I was here for my brother and work. Most don't believe me when I say this but I work with Tony Stark. He's a good friend of mine as well as his work buddies you might know as the avengers. I go into Manhattan when I need to go to meetings and what not though I stay in a hotel near my brothers apartment in Brooklyn. Now walking on it's icy sidewalks I keep my complaints to myself and cuddle my steaming hot tea in my hands. Well that is until my two left feet slip on a patch of ice and drag me down to my frosty doom. With a groan I  look up at the sky and see the cup still intact in my outstretched hands. Victory is mine! Before I can say chicken butt I'm jumping from the cold cold ground to wipe off the snowy slush that had soaked through my pants and coat. Teeth chattering I run to the apartment and slam the door only to find the window wide open letting a bitter wind burst into the small living area. I rush to shut the window sighing in relief though as I turn to the kitchen I see an unfamiliar man standing in the corner. Eyes widened I ask, "hi...um are you one of (b/n)'s friends? I'm (y/n)", trying to be as polite and cover up the shock I had seeing the strange man. I extend my hand only to be greeted by a gun in my face. I swallow and take a few steps back. "Do you have a first aid kit?" He asks hoarsely. I finally take my eyes off the gun and see how bad off the man is. Cuts and bruises everywhere."Y-yeah. Uh...it's in the bathroom" I say softly not wanting to get my head blown off. I slowly walk to the bathroom very aware of the gun constantly trained on my back. I grab the kit and return to the kitchen. "You don't need that you know. I want to help." I say to the man. One of my weakness no matter who the person is, if they are  hurt I have to help them in some way. The vulnerability of human suffering just gets to me. He looks at my with a calculating stare before setting the gun on the kitchen counter. With a breath of relief I open the kit and pull chairs for both me and my intruder to sit upon. He slowly lowers himself into the chair and I begin to clean the cuts. He didn't wince or say a single word the entire time. "I uh need to get to your shoulders and stuff. Would you mind taking your shirt off?" I ask shyly. He simply nods and pulls off his shirt making me immediately regret my request. Chiseled abs and a rock hard chest block my mind from every other thought I might of been having. The man cleared his throat making my face flame redder than iron man's suit. I quickly clean the cuts on his chest trying not to linger on any one spot. "So...can you tell me your name?" I ask. He stiffens at my words and seems to give me another calculating stare before answering. "Bucky. My name's Bucky". I smile at the old fashioned name. "My friend knew a guy named Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. He died a long time ago though" I say remembering what Steve had told me about his pal. Next thing I know I am smacked against the fridge with a metal hand wrapped around my neck. "Who are you?! Did Hydra send you?!" He seethes. Coughing I choke out"I-ca..breathe-cant.." his hand loosens enough for me to breathe and speak leaving me gasping for air. "I told you who I was when I walked in here. I'm (y/n) and I dont know anything about Hydra except what's in the museum's" . "Then how did you know my name?" Bucky asks incredulously. "Know your- what? Steve's friend? He's dead. You can't be-" "well I am James Buchanan Barnes according to the Smithsonian exhibit" he says. "You're...you're him...oh god you're not dead! You have to tell Steve!" "No...I can't...I'm not him! I mean...i am but I don't know him!" I looking at him bewildered but dropped my gaze to the red Hydra star on his metal arm. My face fell and the want to help him grew in this moment. "I see. Well I have an extra bed in the hotel I'm staying at. You need rest and then we can talk about this". "Why should I trust you?" He asks. "Because you have a gun and I have no intentions except of helping you. Your injured" I reply using injured for many different levels of pain. Who knows what Hydra had done to him... He looks around then drops his gaze to me in acceptance. "When can we go?"