MARVEL IMAGINES

BUCKY BARNES || Therapy

Bucky sat impatiently in the waiting room, his metal fingers tapping simultaneously to a beat on the chair. People around him stole glances, double taking at the large metal arm where his real left one should be. A little boy even pointed and asked his father why 'the man was wearing a long metal glove'. Bucky heard everything.

•••

Double checking the name on your clipboard, you rounded the corner into the waiting room. Everyone looked at you with wide eyes, all besides one. A lone man. "James? James Barnes?" You called, scanning the crowd for someone to lock eyes with you. The lone man, now identified to you as James Barnes, looked up at you, meeting your comforting smile with an equally relived and nervous expression. He got up as murmurs and conversation began to start from behind him. He knew it was about him.

"Just this way to my office," You smiled, leading him down the hall and to a door that read 'Y/N L/N. Head therapist'. The two of you entered, taking your respective seats on the couch. "So first of all James–"

"Bucky. Sorry to interrupt, but could you please call me Bucky." He interjected kindly. You nodded.

"Sure thing, Bucky. I just wanted to formally introduce myself to you. I am Y/N L/N, and I have been a therapist for a good 10 years now." You said, extending a hand. He licked his lips quickly before he hesitantly shook it, sending an indicator to you about his reluctance to human contact. You pursed your lips momentarily, sitting back slightly in your seat with a small smile.

"So Bucky, how are you? What brings you in today?"
He looked down at his hands, and you finally saw the metal forearm and hand protruding from the bottom of his left pushed up sleeve. Prosthetic? He looked in pain while he spoke moments later. It was as if the memories were riding back up into his mind, threatening to be remembered again.

"I've been having..." his eyes flickered from you, to your clipboard and back to his own arm again. "Bad dreams."

"Okay," You nodded, "can you tell me what the dreams have been about?"

Bucky shook his head, "n-no. Not yet."

You nodded again, "alright. You don't have to tell me straight away, but we will come back to it sooner or later. Any other reason you came here today? Anything else troubling you?"

Bucky laughed softly, the pained expression coming up once again, "almost everything."

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WRITTEN BY ELLE