bucky barnes imagines

lxv. HAIR

It was mid afternoon, and all was quiet apart from the gentle sound of your favourite song pouring from your speakers. While the room was serene, the scene before you was anything but – in fact, chaotic was the best word to describe it.

You were perched in front of the mirror, sharp scissors in your hand, hefty clumps of hair strewn on the floor around you. You smiled at your reflection; for your own work, the haircut wasn't too bad – although you were yet to see the back.

Suddenly, another bright idea popped into your head. You sprung to your feet and reached an arm under your bed, fumbling around for a second before drawing out a box of red hair dye. You'd bought it impulsively a few months ago, but up until today, you'd never felt like using it.

Now grinning slightly manically, you walked into the bathroom to prepare the dye. This was definitely a bad idea, but you weren't about to back down now – not even after you tried to apply the first glob of dye to your hair and it spilled onto the white tiled floor instead.

It'll wash off, you decided, continuing the application. Of course, in a true spontaneous fashion, you hadn't conducted any research; you weren't using a brush, or gloves, or foils to help the colour take better. But it was too late for all of that – you just had to hope that the dye would work by itself.

After letting it sit for a while, you hopped into the shower to wash it off, accidentally splashing the red pigment everywhere in the process. The bathroom looked like a murder scene straight from a Tarantino movie, but still, you didn't let that deter you.

With your hair vigorously towel dried, you slipped into a robe and walked back into your room, coming to a standstill in front of the mirror again. And only then did you notice what a bad job you'd done.

It was patchy as hell. Some areas were bright, fiery red, while others were burgundy, and some were just your natural hair colour. The dye had also stained your hands, ears and neck, no matter how hard you'd scrubbed them, which caused you to realise that maybe you might've ruined the entire bathroom.

As childish tears filled your eyes, you heard the door open and close again as your boyfriend, Bucky, entered the room. When he took in your appearance, he gasped dramatically.

You thought he'd start laughing, and your bottom lip began to tremble, your tears threatening to spill. But then Bucky rushed over and wrapped his arms around your waist, rocking you back and forth, already comforting you even though you hadn't said a single word.

"I hate it," you muttered.

"Why?" Bucky asked, pulling away slightly to kiss you on the cheek. "It looks—"

"Terrible," you finished, hanging your head. "Look, it's all splotchy and crooked!"

"Why didn't you tell me you wanted to change your hair, doll? I could've helped you." He sounded earnest but a tad offended, which made you feel even worse.

"Because I didn't want to change my hair. Not until an hour ago, so I just– I just did it. And now I look ugly."

"Hey, don't say that." Bucky sat down on your bed and pulled you into his lap, letting you hide your face in the crook of his neck. "You always look gorgeous, okay? The prettiest girl I ever saw."

You blushed at his words and grabbed his metal hand to lace your fingers with his. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart. Now, wait here for me, okay? I'll be back soon, I promise."

You pouted as Bucky laid you gently on the bed, smiling sweetly at you as he left the room. He was only gone for fifteen minutes or so, but it seemed like forever before he walked towards you again, an excited twinkle in his eyes. Your own eyes widened when you lifted your head and took in his appearance.

He'd cut his hair. The fluffy, shoulder length locks were gone, replaced by a new cut that made him look almost exactly identical to his forties self.

You loved it.

"How do you look so good with every single hairstyle?" you grumbled, fussing with your own botched hair. Bucky simply chuckled, laying down beside you and kissing your forehead.

"If you're really not happy with your hair, we can go to a salon later and they can fix it, okay? Don't worry about it, Y/N."

Sighing, you nodded, rolling over to cuddle up to him again. Intrigued, you ran your hands through his now short hair, giggling when he hummed in satisfaction.

You stayed that way for a while, your movements calming him, his eyes becoming heavy. When you noticed Bucky falling asleep, you decided to take a nap too, both of you content and peaceful in each other's arms.

Your hair could wait until tomorrow.