Incubus

Incubus Part 5

Friday night, you're curled up in bed, laptop propped on your bent knees as you catch up on some of your Netflix shows. Bucky had texted you earlier in the day that he was going to have to work late tonight, but that he'd take you to breakfast tomorrow morning. Deciding whether or not you were going to work that day had been a bit of a struggle. While the two of you had still been lying in bed, Bucky offered to stay with you and have the both of you call in sick, but in the end you declined. You'd hoped that doing something mundane and normal would help to distract your mind from the events of last night. It hadn't.

So now, you were bundled under as many blankets as possible, dressed in a simple tank and panties, your gaze focused on the flickering images dancing across your laptop.

The sudden crash that sounds directly outside your window does nothing for your already frazzled nerves. There's a fire escape out there, but the only person you've ever seen use it was the teenage boy a few doors down whenever he was trying to sneak out. But for one, he was scarily quiet when he used it, and two he was away for the summer because of an internship.

A rasping knock against your window soon follows the crash. Gasping quietly, you set your laptop down and reach for your phone on the nightstand.

"Y/N," your name comes out gravely and low.

You pause mid reach. That almost sounded like... Bucky?

Disregarding the voice in your head telling you to call the police, you kick the blankets off your legs and stand. Walking to your window, you push open your blinds. A breath of relief escapes you when two familiar blue eyes look back through the glass. You lift up the bottom pane.

"Jesus Christ, Bucky. You almost gave me a h- Holy fuck, is that blood?!"

He's covered nearly head to toe in dark red liquid. It's matted to his hair. There's a slice on his cheek, rips all over his clothes, and he seems to be clutching a pretty nasty gash on his side. He grimaces, wincing from the pain. "I need your help," his voice is gruff, it almost doesn't sound like him.

"What happened?" you ask incredulously.

He ignores your question. "I need you to invite me in."

"What?" you hiss at his demand.

"Invite me in. I'm too weak to get passed the wards and spells right now." He huffs for breath, his jaw clenching.

"James Buchanan Barnes, get your demonic ass inside this window right now!"

He grunts, his free hand reaching out to grasp the sill. "That works."

You help to pull him through, the tiny space not exactly meant for someone of his size. You get his top half through and then the rest of him kind of just comes tumbling forward. He lands in a heap on your floor, groaning in pain.

"Fuck, that hurt."

Using what little strength you have, you manage to get him upright. "Can you please tell me what happened to you?" you ask again.

"Got into an argument."

"With a bear?!" your voice is growing increasingly more hysterical as time passes.

"Um..." he hesitates, stumbling a little until he makes it to your bed. He lowers himself precariously onto the edge. "More like vampire," he admits.

Your shoulders drop as you stare at him like he's grown two heads. "Bucky, tell me you didn't."

He won't meet your gaze and that's all you need to know.

"God, you went after Tony?!"

"He hurt you," he finally meets your glare with a look of determination.