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Setting: After Civil War
It was accidental.
You never meant for it to happen, but it had, and you felt completely and undeniably foolish for it.
You'd never even spoken to him—to Bucky. You'd never seen the blues of his eyes, and you'd never felt the warmth of his touch.
Yet you'd fallen for him through the thick glass and the silence. You'd fallen for him through the stories you'd heard of him.
They had always said, We love what we cannot have.
James Buchanan Barnes had been in cryostasis for months while you and your team searched for a way to reverse his brainwashing.
Steve Rogers, his best friend, came quite often to check in on your team's progress, and when doing so, he would tell stories about Bucky from the Forties and even from their recent reconnection.
Steve talked so highly of him; it was hard not to like Bucky from the things Steve said. Even reading what happened to him made you develop a soft spot in your heart for Bucky.
But there he was—so beautifully preserved in the chamber as if he was simply sleeping. You couldn't help but thing to yourself, How can someone like this be capable of being so dangerous?
You felt responsible for giving Bucky his old life back. You wanted to reverse what Hydra had done to him so he could be removed from cryo and live again.
Part of you wanted him to thank you—to fall for you, too, but that wouldn't happen. He didn't know you; you were a stranger to him.
It hurt like hell—dedicating yourself to saving a man who would never love you back.
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This is so short, but I had a dream that made me think of this. I haven't written one of these in over a month so please excuse the fact that this is written horribly. I'll write something better for you guys soon.
