Bucky Barnes Oneshots

Баю Бающки Баю

Present Day AU
(In this AU, Bucky is now a part of the Avengers team. Your character is an agent that was originally trained by Soviet Special Forces-- not the KGB or HYDRA, just the Soviet military hotshots.)
                                                               
The Avengers Tower was always exceptionally quiet this time of night. Everyone either sleeping or off somewhere doing something away from the dorms.
You sat in your window, watching the way the lights around the city flickered. Lights go off, lights come on. It was extremely repetitive. And extremely annoying at this point…
You stood, crossing your quarters and heading to the door.
“Do you need anything, Miss (y/l/n)?” came FRIDAY’s voice as your hand rested on the doorknob.
“No, FRIDAY, I’m alright,” you responded with a small smile. You stepped outside your door, letting it shut silently behind you as you crept stealthily down the hall. You hadn’t noticed how hungry you were before then, but your stomach was definitely growling now.
You slinked by Steve’s room, then Nat’s, then Sam’s, but when you were going past Bucky’s you heard something very concerning to you. You put your ear to the former Winter Soldier’s door as you listened. The door was thick, but you had been trained and enhanced for stuff like this.
At first, you thought you’d misheard. You thought your mind was playing tricks on you. But as you listened, you could distinctly hear the sound of his muffled Russian muttering.
“FRIDAY, if you could maybe let me in and not tell anyone, that’d be great,” you muttered halfheartedly.
                        The door’s lock clicked open and you smiled gratefully to the ceiling, as if the AI lingered there. You opened the door silently and entered the apartment.
Past the small hallway, you turned into the living room area. He kept a futon here, folding it down of a night for his bed.
He shuffled around on his bed, his long, brown hair wild and disheveled from sleep. He only slept in his boxers, which is only something you noticed because he didn’t sleep with any covers.
He clenched his fists, his face contorting with pain. You didn’t know if your excellent night vision was doing you any favors at this point. You bit your lip nervously as he began muttering again. You went closer to the futon, almost a foot away.
 
"Bayu bayushki bayu, nye lozhisya na krayu, pridyot serenkiy volchok I ukhvatit za bochok. On ukhvatit za bochok I potashchit vo lesok I ukhvatit za bochok pod rakitovyi kustok,” you whispered gently, singing the words to the old Russian lullaby your guardian used to sing to you when you got nightmares as a child. You watched as his body relaxed a bit, his fists unclenching as you kept singing quietly.
When you were satisfied that he would be alright, you left his quarters as silently as you’d come.
 
The next morning, as you walked into the Tower’s kitchen, you saw Steve already making breakfast.
“Hey, (y/n),” he smiled. “Eggs?”
“Oh, yes, please,” you laughed, sitting at the island that contained the cooktop Steve was currently working at. He put a helping of the aborted bird babies on your plate.
Natasha came in, looking as if she was in desperate need of coffee. You could relate. She gave you a small, tired smile as she went to the coffee maker, getting herself a mug and helping herself to the dark liquid gold.
                        “You look awful perky today, (y/n),” she said, taking a sip. You shrugged.
“I don’t know how. Couldn’t sleep any last night.”
“An object in motion tends to stay in motion, right?” Steve laughed. You grinned, finishing your eggs.
Bucky walked in, then, his hair pulled back in a man bun. He had put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. He also looked incredibly disgruntled.
“Geez, Buck. You look like you need about twelve of these,” Nat said, holding up her mug. He just scanned the room, his eyes resting on you for a moment before he looked back at her.
Jesus Christ, you thought. He doesn’t know I was in his room last night, does he?
“Did you save me any?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep. Nat tapped her nail on the coffee pot with a smile.
“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you without any to drink,” she said, rolling her eyes as she walked out.
Bucky stood by the counter, his mug of coffee gripped tight in his flesh hand. Steve finished up the rest of breakfast and washed the dishes. He looked Bucky over.
“You okay, bud?” he asked, putting a skillet in the cabinet. Bucky sighed and nodded, taking another swig of coffee.
“Bad night?” you asked, almost immediately regretting asking as soon as he looked at you. Hey may not have known you were in there—you had faith in FRIDAY’s confidentiality – but the look he gave you was that of an irritated cat. The kind of look it would give you when it suspects you of doing something, but can’t prove it.
“Some of it. I’m fine,” he growled, taking off back to his room. Steve glanced at you, confused.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
“I have no idea,” you replied.
 
That night you were roaming the halls again. This was actually pretty normal for you. You didn’t sleep a whole lot, and you had found pretty quickly that your dorm was really boring this time of night. You’d seen every movie you owned at least twenty times by now.
                        You passed by Bucky’s room again. You stood there for a second, but didn’t hear anything. You went ahead to the kitchen to get a drink.
Bucky stood in the kitchen, his back against the counter, his hands holding the edge.
“Oh,” you remarked. “Sorry, didn’t know anyone was up.”
“It’s fine.” He replied. You went to the fridge, looking around for some milk or juice or something.
“How is it that we are always out of milk?” you asked, holding up an empty jug.
“Ask catwoman,” Bucky shrugged.
“That or Bird-boy,” you growled, referring to Sam.  Bucky let out a chuckle. You shook your head, grabbing a jug of orange juice. You got a glass and began to pour, humming softly.
You noticed Bucky stiffen.
“What are you humming?” he asked quietly. You looked at him curiously. Then it hit you: you had been humming Bayu Bayushki. The very same song you had sang to him while he’d slept the night before.
“It’s just a song my babushka sang me when I was really little. Before I began training,” you said, waving it off nonchalantly. He watched you carefully as you put the jug back in the fridge. You could feel your skin almost crawl under his scrutinized view.
And then he took off back to his room again.
“God, he’s such a teenage girl sometimes,” you muttered.
                        It was a few weeks before you heard him again while roaming the halls. You often stopped by his room to check. He sounded as if he were stressed this time. You could hear his words become harsh and venomous.
You asked FRIDAY to let you in again, the AI complying. You stepped inside, just as silently as you had the first time. His muttering grew louder and more intelligible as you came closer.
"Попрошайничество не поможет вам сейчас," he growled in his sleep. You flinched, hoping never to find out what HYDRA made this man do.
You stooped low, about a foot from the bed again. Your singing came out in hushed breaths, trying to calm him from this night tremor. You were even brave enough to move a piece of hair out of his face.
Stupid idea.
His eyes snapped open and his metal hand was around your neck in an instant. Like lightning, he had gotten up and pushed you against his wall, your back hitting the drywall painfully as it caved a little beneath you. You let out a strangled scream, but it soon was choked out. You tore at his arm with your hands, kicking widly.
A look of recognition returned his features back to normal and he dropped you to the ground. You coughed violently.
“What are you doing?” he growled, nostrils flared.
“You were having nightmares. I thought singing would help. Clearly not,” you snapped, looking up at him. You stood. There was knocking at the door.
“I was an assassin for seventy years and you thought it was a good idea to sing to me during a nightmare?” he spat incredulously. The knocking persisted, only with Steve’s voice calling Bucky’s name this time.
                        “It worked the other time!” you yelled, your handing going to your throat immediately after as a flare of pain shot through it.
You heard the door burst open—FRIDAY must have finally unlocked it—and Steve, Nat, and Sam all raced in. Bucky’s face was expressionless. No emotion whatsoever. Your jaw clenched and you stormed out, running past the trio and back to your own dorm, their eyes following you.
You had never been so angry in your life.                    
After that, you wouldn’t even look at Bucky. If he entered the room, you left. If you needed something, you asked anybody else.
Until Nat cut your training short one day.
“Where are you going?” you asked, your tone almost pleading.
“I’ve got a mission debriefing in thirty,” she replied, unwrapping her hands. “You’ll just have to find someone else to spar with.”
“No, I’ll just go get cleaned up,” you said, knowing that the only other person there to spar with you was none other than the snowman himself.
“(Y/n), just go get Bucky,” she sighed.
“No! I am not going to train with him,” you replied defiantly.
“Listen, I don’t know what the hell you two got into it over, but for God’s sake get over it,” she snapped. “You’re acting like a child, (y/n).”
“He had his hand around my throat and had me up a wall,” you shot back.
“And who’s the one that decided to go into his room at night during a violent nightmare? Who’s the one that decided to sing to him?” she retorted.
“It worked the other time!”
“The other time?” she gaped, her face in utter disbelief. “You’ve gone in there before?”
“He had a nightmare one night… And I just wanted him to stop,” you mumbled.
“I can’t believe this,” Nat breathed.
                        “What?”
“You’re totally into him,” she grinned.
“I am not!” you said defensively.
“You totally are!” she laughed. “Come on; just think about it for a while. You’ll come to your senses.”
“Won’t be any need. I’m not into James Barnes!”
“Oh so you just sang to him because you thought, ‘Hell, might as well’? I don’t think so.”
“Fuck you, Natasha,” you growled, unwrapping your hands.
“You know what, (y/n)? For once in your damn life could you not be so bullheaded? Could you please just do that for me?” she sighed, backing towards the door.
“I’M NOT INTO HIM!” you insisted, tears almost coming to your eyes.
“Not into who?” said a voice that could not have irritated you anymore at that point. Bucky stepped into the room and your temper immediately flared. You grabbed your bag and stormed out, shoving past both he and Natasha.
A knock came at your door about an hour later. You went to the door and opened it, revealing none other than Bucky. You cursed under your breath.
“What?” you grumbled.
“Are you alright?” he asked, brow furrowed.
“What do you care?”
                        “Jesus Christ, (y/n), would you quit being such a child and tell me if you’re alright or not?” he sighed.
“No, I’m not. And since when do you make house calls to try and comfort people?”
“Well, when you see someone run out of a room practically bawling you tend to wonder what’s up,” he shrugged.
“Yeah, well, no. I’m not fine. Okay, therapy time’s over. You can leave now,” you stated, starting to shut the door. He grabbed it with his metal hand, keeping it from shutting.
“I may not be Steve when it comes to these things, but Natasha said if I didn’t try talking to you, she’d personally kick my ass.”
“Since when are you scared of Nat?” you asked, bewildered.
“Since she threatened my junk,” he sighed, coming into your room without permission. “So what’s troubling you?”
“Nothing important,” you huffed.
“Seemed pretty important when you were screaming at Natasha,” he mused.
“Yeah, well, it’s not.”
“It’s about some guy, right?” he asked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall.
“Oh my God, quit pretending that you know everything, Barnes. It’s extremely distasteful,” you said sourly.
“I’m not pretending to know this. I specifically remember you screaming, ‘I’M NOT INTO HIM!’ when I walked in,” he replied, mimicking you. That instantly shot rage through your very being. Him mocking you.
“It’s none of your business.”
“Would you just tell me so Nat won’t threaten my balls anymore?” he sighed.
“No!”
“Please?”
You could tell that one was strained.
“No!”
“Oh my God, just tell me!”
“IT’S YOU, BUCK. IT’S YOU,” you bellowed. His eyebrows rose in a bit of a surprise.
“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” he stated after a few seconds, looking at the floor. You rolled your eyes, going to the door and opening it. He got the message.
He started out the door, but stopped, turning to face you. He was so close you could smell his scent. It wasn’t cologne, and it wasn’t sweat. It was almost cinnamon-y. He looked down at you, him being almost a half a foot taller.
                        “How about next time you find out you have feelings for me, spare this old man some trouble and just come out with it, doll?” he said in a low voice. Any words you could have had at that time would have been choked down as you stared up at him with wide eyes. He got a little lower and closer to you, looking into your eyes.
“You have a lovely singing voice by the way,” he purred. Then he kissed you softly, almost making you panic. But you melted into it pretty quickly, your eyes fluttering shut as your arms went around his neck and his own hands cupping your face.
You were glued together for what seemed like forever until you heard footsteps come from down the hall. You both parted and saw Nat and Sam standing there. Nat held her hand out to Sam.
“You owe me twenty bucks,” she said, popping her gum. He rolled his eyes, digging into his pocket.
“Shit.”

******
A.N.: Hello to those of you reading these! Thank you!
I just wanted to address that, as you'll notice, these oneshots will be in no particular, chronological order.
Please, if you think of any prompts or situations you would like to see, let me know!!
Thanks again!