buckybarnabus

[buckybarnabus]

The Dance of These Things

Summary: Dawn and Bucky go to a gala.

Warnings: Some cursing. Moderate alcohol use. A broken wrist? Mostly fluff

Word Count: 5.4k oops

A/N: Next part of my Snapshots series involving Bucky Barnes and OFC Dawn. I can’t for the life of me write a whole multi-chaptered story, so this will be a series of one shots in no particular order that may or may not develop into something coherent over time. You can also read on AO3 if you want. Thank you!

“Tell me again why we’re here?” Bucky grumbled as they walked through the parking lot. Dawn shot him a look.

“Because Sam is our friend and he asked us to come,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“He’s your friend. Not mine,” he said, sounding much like a petulant child.

“He spent like two years of his life looking for you under every leaf and pebble he could find. ‘Not friends’ my ass. I actually think that might even qualify as bestie material,” she teased. Bucky tossed a scowl at her.

“As what material?” he asked. “You know what, no. I don’t care. He only went looking for me because Steve needed help. That doesn’t make us friends.”

“Right, because that makes sense. You’re only friends when he’s not asking you to go to a gala in commemoration of saving the universe,” Dawn drawled. Bucky huffed.

“Yeah, not exactly the place for someone like me,” he muttered. That made Dawn pause. She looked at him as they walked, and it hit her, way later than it should have. She should have known better. Bucky felt like he had no right to be there. All of the extra grumpiness made sense, suddenly, and she could see it then in the furrow of his brow, the clench of his jaw. He wasn’t mad, or pouting about having to go to some fancy party. He was nervous. Maybe a little scared.

“Hey,” she said, grabbing his wrist and planting her feet. She stumbled just a little in her heels as Bucky’s momentum kept him going for a couple steps. She felt him stiffen up at her touch, but she ignored it. He’d gotten better about contact, after that night she cut his hair, but it still wasn’t exactly easy for him. One step at a time.

He heaved a heavy sigh as she tugged him to a halt, and he looked over her head, exasperation in his face. “Look at me,” she said. He acquiesced after a stubborn moment.

“What?” he snipped. She stared at him. There were a million cliché things she wanted to wax poetic about, but she found herself at a loss. If she said any of it, she knew it would just work him up even more. Calling him a hero would probably send him into hysterics.

“I don’t know,” she said dumbly. She chewed at her lip briefly, forgetting for a moment that she was wearing lipstick. It claimed to be smudge proof. She was, apparently, going to test the claim whether she meant to or not. She sighed and fixed him with what she hoped was a meaningful look. “I get it, okay? My track record isn’t all that pretty either. It’s just one night. Just a few hours. People are here to celebrate being alive and throw obnoxious amounts of money at foundations. You know, if nothing else, we can just sit at the losers table together, and you can watch me get drunk,” she said, offering a sly little grin and a squeeze to his wrist.

Bucky looked at Dawn for a moment, didn’t say anything, his jaw still working overtime with his stress. But a certain softness worked its way into the edges of his eyes as he took her in, and it made a certain little shiver run up her spine. She felt almost exposed under his gaze. A tiny little grin made its way onto his face, and he gently slipped his wrist out of her grip to carry on walking.

“Well, don’t get too drunk. I’m not carrying you through the parking lot if you can’t walk straight,” he said over his shoulder.

He was tense as they walked up to the entrance of the building, people loitering outside, one or two of them staring from the sidelines. Dawn couldn’t be sure if Bucky noticed, but he paid it no mind regardless. She managed to weasel her way in front of him, giving the name to the bouncer at the door. They found Sam not five minutes after going in, and a wide smile spread over Sam’s face when he spotted them.

Dawn let out a low whistle as Sam flounced up to them, giving him an exaggerated once over. “Look at you, Wilson, Jesus,” she exclaimed. “You’re gonna piss a lot of married men off tonight, looking like you do.”

“Please,” he scoffed, giving her a hug and a light kiss on the cheek in greeting before holding her at arms length to get a good look at her. “Have you seen yourself? I think I just fell in love with you a little,” he said. Then, genuinely, “Dawn, you look beautiful.”

“If you two are just going to fawn over each other all night, I’m going home right now,” Bucky drawled. Sam smiled upon seeing Bucky.

“Look at you, man. A haircut, no tactical gear. If it wasn’t for the staring thing, I never would have thought it was you. Didn’t even think you owned a suit,” Sam said by way of greeting.

“I didn’t,” Bucky said flatly. Dawn tried to hide her smile. She had all but dragged Bucky, kicking and screaming, to the suit store a few days prior, when he was still adamantly refusing to to go the gala. Sam chuckled and smacked him on the shoulder.

“You look good, Buck. I’m glad to see you came,” Sam said.

“I can change your mind, real quick,” Bucky said. Despite the grouchiness, there was still a little lilt of jest in his voice, and Dawn was going to count that as a success. Not a minute later, someone else was calling for Sam’s attention, and they parted ways with promises to catch up later. Dawn spun on her heel to face Bucky.

“I think it’s time for a drink,” she chirped. Bucky gestured toward the bar.

“Agreed. Lead the way,” he said, a tight smile on his face.

To his credit, Bucky was doing just fine, making small talk with those who approached him, whether it be by Sam’s introduction, a familiar face, or the occasional stranger.

The pair had actually ended up getting separated after a little while, though Dawn made certain to keep him in her sights. A trio of old men had apparently decided to adopt Bucky while Dawn was just a little caught up letting some rich older lady talk her ear off about the donation she was making. Which was fine. The woman could flaunt her money all she wanted for all Dawn cared, so long as she was doing something useful with it.

But alas, that conversation came to an end when the woman suddenly saw someone she knew across the way and promptly forgot about Dawn, gliding across the room as she hollered and waved. Dawn blinked a few times before looking briefly over toward where Bucky sat, to find him already looking at her. She rose a brow at him in question. He gave a little grin and a nod, and she smiled brightly before wandering off back toward the bar for another drink.

She ordered one for herself, and another for Bucky with every intention of meeting back up with him and his old men soon, and leaned patiently against the bar top as she waited. There was a man standing near her- nondescript, a little sweaty- sipping on a beer. She didn’t pay him much mind as she waited, simply offering a polite grin when they briefly locked eyes.

“Hey,” the man said, giving her a weird grin as he pointed at her. “I think I know you.” Dawn immediately had a bad feeling about it.

“I think you don’t,” she responded, clipped, but trying to remain at least a little polite.

“No, I see it now. I definitely know you,” he said, scooting a tad closer. “Can you guess how?” Dawn took half a step away.

“I don’t really do guessing games,” she said, haunches quickly rising.

“You’re an assassin. You kill people,” the man said, and she caught the look in his eye. He was either very drunk, or way too excited to talk about things she didn’t want to talk about. Seemed like a little bit of both.

“That’s a bold accusation to put on someone who potentially kills people,” Dawn said, eyes flitting around for a possible escape.

“It’s true. You’re the Serval, I know it. I saw you in the S.H.I.E.L.D. files when they were leaked,” the man continued, Dawn’s attitude going right over his head. She gave him an incredulous smile.

“Oh, you’re one of those deep diving types, huh? Must’ve dug pretty far into those, the Serval wasn’t very high up in the ranks,” she said, giving the bartender a light thanks as she dropped the drinks off.

“I can prove it. The Serval’s got the brand of the Handler, right on the back of her neck,” the man said, eyes darting to the back of Dawn’s head. At the mention of the Handler, Dawn was suddenly in full fight or flight mode. She was just trying to have a nice night.

“You sound a little obsessed there, buddy,” she said, voice flat. “I wouldn’t test that theory if I were you. Excuse me,” she said, making to pick the drinks up and escape the situation. His hand was wrapped around her wrist, then, strikingly quick for a drunk man. It took every ounce of willpower Dawn had not to drop him right then and there.

“Let me go,” she said, surprising herself at how calm she sounded.

“Come on, just let me see it,” he said, other hand moving toward the back of her head. Dawn was a hairs breadth away from kicking the mans knee out when a familiar whir of metal was swiftly followed by the hand it belonged to. Bucky had the mans floating arm caught in his left fist, twisting the wrist sharply and painfully down and out of Dawn’s face. It happened so quickly, so subtly, no one around them even seemed to notice.

“This ain’t a game you want to play, man,” Bucky growled at the man who’s face was contorted in pain. “You’re gonna leave, and hope neither of us finds you later. You know, especially with her being a potential assassin and all.”

With that, Bucky released the mans arm, and the pair watched him crumple before stumbling off in a hurry, tail between his legs. Dawn didn’t bother questioning how he heard the exchange. They’d been through it before. He heard it all, so he said.

“Were you a drama major in your past life? Because that was pretty dramatic,” Dawn teased, hiding what definitely felt like a stiff smile behind her glass as she took a hefty swallow. Bucky looked her over quickly, assessing her body language for unease.

“A little theatrics can go a long way,” he said when he seemed satisfied that Dawn was mostly fine. “You think it scared him?”

“Maybe a little. That, or the broken wrist,” she shrugged, picking up the drink she’d gotten for him. “Got you a refill,” she said. He huffed a breath of laughter and took the glass.

“You went through all that trouble just for me? You’re a peach,” he teased.

“What can I say, I’m a hell of a date. I know how to treat ‘em,” she shrugged.

“I’m sure you do, Donnie,” he said. They fell into an amicable silence after that, but before either one could decide to start talking again, the crowds attention was drawn to the head of the hall, where the presenters of the gala were starting some big speech.

It really was a nice speech, all things considered. Well spoken, hopeful. Bittersweet, but overall optimistic about the world trying to get back on track. As galas went, full of rich, slightly sheltered people who didn’t really understand that things were still going to be rough for a long time, Dawn supposed it could have been a worse crowd. They had hope that things could be good, given the right resources. It made sense that Sam was so eager for them to go.

Sam had reappeared out of seemingly nowhere not long after the speech had ended, and the music had started back up.

“Dawn, you mind if I steal you from your date for a little while? I’m dying to dance with someone under sixty,” he requested, earning a giggle from Dawn.

“Is that what you’ve been doing this whole time? Wooing all the old ladies?” she asked.

“I’ve been drowning in Chanel Number Five for like an hour. Please, I need a break,” he whined, coaxing a proper laugh out of her. She turned to Bucky, then, the silent question on her face.

“Go ahead. I’ve got a conversation to get back to,” Bucky said, gesturing toward the table of old men he’d been talking to previously.

So Sam offered Dawn his arm and led her out onto the dance floor. They fell into form easily, and began moving with the music.

“So Bucky made some friends, huh?” Sam asked, raising a brow in amusement. Dawn smiled.

“Yeah. A bunch of old men, naturally. They’re probably just swapping war stories or something, I don’t know. Whatever old men talk about,” she said.

“Of course he’d fall in with them, cranky old bastard,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “At least nobody’s giving him any trouble.” Dawn shrugged a shoulder.

“He’s already broken a wrist tonight, I think he’s filled his quota for the time being,” she said.

“He what?” Sam baulked. Dawn laughed lightly.

“Don’t worry, it was very subtle. We’re staying out of trouble, I swear.”

“No, no. You aren’t getting out of this so easily. Why the hell is Bucky stealth breaking people’s wrists?” Sam prodded.

“The guy had it coming, honestly. He grabbed me. Trust me, I would’ve made a bigger scene if Bucky hadn’t stepped in,” she said.

“You two are going to be the death of me, I swear to God. Can’t stay out of trouble for one damn night, can you?” he said, giving her a little spin.

“Gala’s can’t stop a couple of wild animals, Wilson,” Dawn winked.

“And yet here you are, schmoozing with the best of ‘em,” he said, shaking his head fondly.

“I mean, I look sort of nice tonight. Might as well play the part, you know?” she said, earning a chuckle. They bantered easily for a bit before falling into quiet and letting the music guide them.

“You know,” Sam started after a few stanzas. “I don’t think Bucky’s danced since the forties. Steve said he used to go dancing all the time,” he said, pointed. Dawn snorted.

“What, you think he’d go for that now? No way. It was enough work just to get him to come here,” she retorted.

“You should ask him to dance. Since, apparently, he can deny you nothing,” Sam said, still with the stupid pointed look. Dawn was willfully ignoring it.

“I think he’d sooner rip his other arm off. You know how he is about touching,” she said.

“I don’t know about that. I don’t think you’re seeing what I’m seeing, Donnie,” Sam said.

“Oh? And what’s that?” she prodded.

“Right now, I see Sir Grumpalot sitting over there looking like a kicked puppy because someone else is dancing with his girl. Seriously, the dude is straight up pouting.” Dawn shot him a glare.

“I’m not his- he always looks like a kicked puppy, that’s just his face.” Sam smiled at her, a soft, warm thing. She felt small under it.

“To you, maybe. That man is an immovable object when he wants to be. Unless it comes to you. Then, sad little puppy, always ready to please.” She huffed at him as the song ended, and reached up to pat his cheek.

“Alright, Samwise, keep telling yourself that. I’m not nearly drunk enough for this conversation. Thanks for the dance. Back to the cougars with you,” she said, removing herself from his grip.

“Dawn, baby, don’t do this to me!” he crowed. She shot him a wide smile as she backed away.

“Sorry, sweetheart. You know my heart burns for you. But I think I’ve got a puppy I need to get back to,” she called.

Bucky was scowling at her once she arrived back at the table he sat at with his three old men. “Was Sam calling me a puppy?” he asked, throwing a glare in Sam’s direction.

“You heard that?” she asked, taking a seat next to him. He slid a glass across the table toward her, a refill of her drink. She smiled in thanks.

“I heard you say it. Which means he said it,” Bucky said, clearly grumpy.

“Don’t worry, Buck, you’re not a puppy,” she said, poking her foot into his shin under the table. “You’re a big, bad wolf, huffing and puffing as much as you do,” she said.

“I hope you don’t ever get into comedy. It’s really not your calling,” Bucky grumbled, and Dawn let out a bright peal of laughter.

And then, apparently, Dawn was dancing with one of Bucky’s three old men, because her feet weren’t killing her enough already. She could run around all day and night on missions, but on those, she typically had boots. A few hours gallivanting around in high heels, though? That was definitely another story.

By the time Dawn had managed to slip away from the dance floor, Bucky was looking spacey, tired, and ready to leave. He’d been a good sport over the course of the evening, and broke a drunk guys wrist for her. He’d earned the relief of leaving the gala.

They slipped out into the refreshing night air, after Dawn’s insistence that they at least say goodbye to Sam, and Dawn felt the relief instantly. She’d been riled up all evening, trying to be social and gracious. It was nice to breathe and let the tension go. But with her relief, the pain in her feet and ankles became her main focus. Heels were a curse to womankind, she decided. And Bucky was already a good few yards away.

“You always walk that fast, or are you just that sick of me?” she called out, irrationally grumpy at the pain in her feet. Bucky stopped and turned, looking just a little surprised that she was so far behind. He watched her for a moment as she tried to pick up the pace, and she scowled when she saw the amusement written all over his face.

“You look like a baby deer,” he teased.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You try wearing heels for hours at a time, see how you do,” she said, embarrassed as she hobbled up to him.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to wear them,” he said, raising his hands in defense.

“I’ve got a knife under this dress, somewhere. Don’t make me use it,” she grumbled.

“You brought a knife?” he asked, surprised. She scoffed.

“Oh, like you don’t have at least ten stuffed in your slacks,” she retorted.

“That’s fair,” he said, then looked back down at her in consideration. “Alright. Come on,” he said, stepping into her space.

“What-“ Dawn was cut off by a yelp as she was suddenly airborne, and she found herself scrambling for a good grip around his neck. Bucky hiked her up higher and started walking, carrying her bridal style through the lot like it was nothing. Dawn took a moment to gather herself again before speaking.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to carry me through the parking lot,” she said quietly, amused. She was also trying not to think about how warm he was, and if she was talking, that helped to distract her.

“That was if you were drunk. Which I’m pretty sure you’re not,” he said, giving her a suspicious glance. She smiled.

“Nah. I can hold my liquor. Maybe even drink you under the table,” she said.

“Right. We are never testing that theory.”

“Don’t underestimate me.”

“I’m not. You’d die.”

-

She let Bucky drive her car, not trusting her feet to cooperate with the pedals. It was a long, quiet drive back to Bucky’s apartment. They’d spent the drive sort of winding down from the evening, and Dawn was about to bid him goodnight upon parking, but Bucky beat her to it.

“You’ve been drinking. I can’t, in good conscience, let you drive home,” he said flatly. She rose a brow at him, unable to help the grin.

“I thought you said I wasn’t drunk,” she said. He didn’t look at her as he pocketed her keys and started walking.

“Three drinks? Maybe four? Yeah, you’re not driving,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Don’t know where your keys went, anyway.” Dawn smiled softly at his back and followed. She liked when fragments of his boyish nature of years past shone through all the grey he surrounded himself with. It was nice.

He let her borrow some clothes, let her use his shower, and she eventually emerged, clean and warm and comfy. She dropped herself onto the couch and let out a relieved sigh, leaning her head back and shutting her eyes with a grin.

“Feel better?” Bucky asked from the kitchen around a mouthful of food. His stomach had growled angrily the entire drive home. Dawn had tried to get him to eat at the gala, but he just wouldn’t. He moved back into the front room and placed a plated sandwich in Dawn’s lap. She was, admittedly, also very hungry.

“You have no idea,” she said, tucking into the offered sandwich. She watched TV while Bucky took his own shower. It was a familiar routine after sharing many a hotel room. They existed pretty easily around each other, for the most part. It was comfortable. Something safe, easy.

“Did you have to use all the hot water?” he griped without venom upon exiting the bathroom and flopping onto the couch.

“You should have thought of that before you met me. Long, hot showers are kind of my favorite thing,” she said, shoving at his shoulder.

“Right, because I definitely could have predicted some ex assassin, hot water leech was going to prance her way into my apartment one day just for the amenities,” he shot back. She could practically hear him rolling his eyes at her.

“Constant vigilance, Sarge. You can never be too ready,” she said, curling into her corner of the couch as Bucky started flipping through the channels. Dawn’s mind wandered as she stared at the television. The air between them was easy, comfortable. Quiet and content. She found herself continuously looping back to Sam’s words at the gala, couldn’t quite seem to get them out of her head. Bucky liked to dance, once upon a time. She could imagine it, the bright smile on his face as he twirled a pretty girl around the room, the innocence of it all.

“Sam said you haven’t danced since the forties,” she blurted before she could stop herself. She could see him turn his head toward her in her peripheral vision, but he said nothing. “Well. I guess Steve said it, really. Steve told Sam, Sam told me,” she rambled, picking at the borrowed sweatpants.

“Well. It’s a little hard to get some dancing in between brainwashing, bouncing from fight to fight. Turning to dust,” Bucky said, slowly, clearly trying to figure out her reasoning.

“You could’ve tonight. At the gala,” she said, chancing a quick glance at him. He was giving her a look, something carefully neutral and just a little suspicious.

“Don’t be so sure about that,” he said.

“You could’ve,” she repeated. “I’m sure anyone would’ve danced with you.”

“Not really my scene these days, Donnie,” he said. She chewed on her lip, ignoring the feeling of her heart hammering in her chest.

“What about here?” she asked.

“What about it?”

Dawn gestured around them. “Is this more your scene?” He furrowed his brows at her. Her stomach dropped into her feet.

“This is my living room?” he said, clearly confused. She was going to fucking throw up.

“Dance with me, Bucky,” she said. Maybe she would just die, dissolve into the couch and cease to be.

“What?” he asked, almost a whisper. She squared her shoulders and turned to him.

“Dance with me,” she said. He just kind of sat there for a moment, looking bewildered and caught off guard. It took him a minute to find his words again.

“I haven’t danced since ‘43,” he said, sounding a little breathless. She nodded slowly.

“Yes. We’ve been over this. It’ll be fine,” she said, standing up and crossing the room toward his stereo.

“I’m not any good,“ he argued weakly.

“Who cares? No one’s watching and I won’t know any better,” she said, hooking up her phone and pulling up a proper playlist. She pressed the play button and put the phone down before drifting back to Bucky as the grainy, old music started playing. She quickly muted the television and outstretched her hands expectantly. She made a grabby motion when he still just stared up at her.

“Come on. Just a few songs. It’ll be fun,” she said. He pressed his lips together and sighed heavily, not being overly helpful as he took her hands and let her pull him up. She pulled him away from the couch and they stared at each other for a moment. Bucky’s brows were furrowed, but she couldn’t tell what he was feeling. She could barely hear the music over the blood rushing in her ears.

He still didn’t say anything. Just hesitantly tapped her arm up, looking resigned, a silent order to place her hand on his shoulder. His left hand fell lightly onto her waist, and his right gently scooped up her other hand to hold up in the air. She gave him an encouraging smile, and then they we’re moving.

She let him lead, and it was a shy thing at first, stiff. “See? It’s not so bad,” she said. He huffed a tense breath of laughter.

“This is stupid,” he said. She clicked her tongue.

“No, this is nice,” she argued, giving his shoulder a gentle pinch. She moved with him as easily as he would let her, but he was still uncertain, almost awkward. She found it endearing. It took some time for Bucky to warm up to the idea.

Dawn could almost pinpoint the moment he got comfortable. He tugged her hand, twisted her out for a little spin, and pulled her back into him. She giggled as he spun her, almost losing her footing on the return. His left hand landed on the small of her back when she bumped back into him, and they were suddenly much closer. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, the coolness of his metal hand against her spine. She looked back up at him, and she caught a glimpse of that boyish charm he once probably wore so easily.

“I guess it’s not so bad,” he muttered as they continued swaying to the music.

“And you think you’re not any good,” she tutted. They moved around in a little circle for a while. Then, Bucky got brave and started putting some foot work into it. Dawn’s heart was absolutely soaring, and she could tell Bucky was legitimately having a good time, if the softness in his features was anything to go by.

“You looked beautiful, tonight,” Bucky said out of the blue, quiet, like he didn’t want to break the little bubble they found themselves in. “I should have said it before.” Dawn bit her lip against the shy smile threatening to rise. She could only manage a whispered thanks as she felt her cheeks heat up.

“You know. Baby deer ankles and all,” he teased, earning a scandalized gasp out of Dawn. She went to smack him in the arm, but instead, he stopped the motion by gripping her hand tighter and pulling her even closer, flush against his body. Any and all fight Dawn had in her left in a rush. “I’m kidding, Doll,” he said, the words rumbling against her chest. Dawn couldn’t find any words to say, so she rested her head against his chest instead, opting to feel his warmth and let the music guide them.

They danced around the apartment for more than the promised few songs, swaying and spinning and stepping. Dawn only stepped on his toes a few times. And Bucky seemed happy. The tension he usually held in his shoulders was nonexistent, and everything about him just seemed soft and sweet, and Dawn was almost jealous of all the girls he must have taken dancing back in his day, jealous that they got to see that side of him so freely. And she was sad for Bucky, that he’d been through so much, had no choice but to shut himself down. But at that moment in time, the pair of them floating around his apartment, things were good. Everything was okay. There was no mission. No nightmare. No Handler. No greater goal. Just Dawn and Bucky. Just music. Just a little bit of peace.

The song was nearing its end. The crescendo came, the last big chorus, and Bucky spun Dawn around once more before catching her against his chest. He smoothly transferred his weight, held her snug as he got a steady hold of her and dipped her with all the grace in the world. She found herself giggling at the feeling, and then he pulled her back up. He pulled her back up, and she was proud of not messing it up for all of a second before her mind blanked entirely.

They were close. Very close. Both of his hands were pressed into her spine, one warm, one cold, steadying her frame. Her hands landed on either side of his neck. Their noses brushed. They were so close. Dawn felt his breath against her lips, a quick, surprised little puff, and she almost could have sworn her heart stopped beating, that she would die right then and there. Hair had landed in her face with the momentum, and she couldn’t see much of anything, but she felt it all.

Her breath hitched and she froze as Bucky’s nose just brushed her cheek, an almost mindless nuzzle against her skin. She could feel the heat of his lips so, so close to hers. She would barely have to move an inch to meet them. She was pretty sure she was dead.

But, almost as soon as it had happened, it was over. Bucky took a step back, releasing Dawn completely.

“It’s, um,” he cleared his throat, looked somewhere over her shoulder. “It’s late. I’m sure you’re tired. You should get some sleep,” he said. It took Dawn an embarrassingly long moment to collect herself.

“Oh. Right, um. Yeah. It was a long day, wasn’t it,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as spaced out as she felt. She moved on stiff legs to grab her phone and shut the music off. Bucky was standing awkwardly off to the side, arms crossed tight over his chest.

“You can take the bed,” he said with a stiff gesture, voice rough. She nodded dumbly and pulled her lips between her teeth before shuffling down the short hallway. She was about to shut the door behind her, hand on the doorknob for a moment. She swung it back open a little.

“Bucky?” she called out hesitantly.

“Yeah?” his voice echoed, quick and a little shrill. Her words got stuck. She cleared her throat.

“Thank you. For coming. I had a nice night. I hope you did, too,” she called out, awkward, unable to keep the uncertainty out of her voice. She didn’t get a response for a minute, and she was about to shut the door.

“Yeah. I did. Goodnight, Donnie.”

Neither one of them knew it, but they both spent a long time staring at the ceiling that night, too wired, too deep in thoughts of What the hell is going on to fall asleep. And when they did, their sleep was as turbulent as whatever it was that they were trying not to feel.

[buckybarnabus]

🎃🎃

[buckybarnabus]

Songs Bucky would like but never actually admit to liking pt 4

Super Trouper, by ABBA

[buckybarnabus]

Songs Bucky would like but never actually admit to liking pt 3

Marry the Night by Lady Gaga

[buckybarnabus]

Songs Bucky would like but never actually admit to liking pt 2

December, 1963 (Oh What a Night) by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons

[buckybarnabus]

Snippet of the next part of the Snapshots series:

“You always walk that fast, or are you just that sick of me?” she called out, irrationally grumpy at the pain in her feet. Bucky stopped and turned, looking just a little surprised that she was so far behind. He watched her for a moment as she tried to pick up the pace, and she scowled when she saw the amusement written all over his face.

“You look like a baby deer,” he teased.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You try wearing heels for hours at a time, see how you do,” she said, embarrassed as she hobbled up to him.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to wear them,” he said, raising his hands in defense.

“I’ve got a knife under this dress, somewhere. Don’t make me use it,” she grumbled.

[buckybarnabus]

Y’all I got a wild idea this morning for a terribly self indulgent cowboy/farm(or ranch)hand!Bucky AU. I’m sure it’s been done plenty but h o t d a m n. I need it. Just imagine:

Bucky with a cute lil southern drawl

all Princess Bride like, soft lil ‘yes ma’am’s’ in the flavor of ‘as you wish’

long hair and a cowboy hat

affinity for the goats on the ranch/farm

but great with all the animals

except for the chickens. the chickens hate him

small town, everyone knows everyone, but he came in outta nowhere and is the talk of the town

all the girls wanna dance with him

he dances with them cuz he’s a good ol’ country boy and his mama raised him right

gentle, quiet, ✨mysterious✨ past

but don’t ask him about it

just good ol’ southern Buck

And much more!! Time to learn about ranch work and write this shit I guess

[buckybarnabus]

Listen you can just unfollow me

[buckybarnabus]

South-ish Texas here. The pigeons at the Riverwalk aren’t exactly shy while outdoor dining

going to the publix deli, gettin a sub sandwich and a bag of chips and some sweet tea, then going to the park and watching bastard geese try to steal your sandwich... alabama gothic

yesss so true!! the north texas equivalent of this is getting tamales or a wrap at the central market and then going to the park and feeding grapes to ducks or herons!

[buckybarnabus]

Songs Bucky would like but never actually admit to liking pt 1

Wham! - Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go

[buckybarnabus]

.

[buckybarnabus]

idk how you watch catws and not pick up on the fact that sam is absolutely a mirror of steve… they even straight up say it in the film.

“I do what he does, just slower”

[buckybarnabus]

Bungalow on the Beach, part 1

Of Pink Umbrellas and Other Things

Summary: Dawn and Bucky are forced on vacation. It really isn't so bad.

Warnings: Some cursing. Brief descriptions of sex, so be aware

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Next part of my Snapshots series involving Bucky Barnes and OFC Dawn. I can’t for the life of me write a whole multi-chaptered story, so this will be a series of one shots in no particular order that may or may not develop into something coherent over time. You can also read on AO3 if you want. Thank you!

A gentle breeze through open windows. Late morning sunlight. The sound of the ocean, and sea gulls, and wind chimes dancing in the breeze. Warmth. Almost too warm, enough to leave the skin sticky and almost uncomfortable. These were the things that greeted Bucky when he woke up. More than that, what drew him from his slumber in the first place, was the shuffling of sheets beside him, the weight of another body settling over him, fingers sliding up the sticky skin of his chest.

He pulled in a heavy, tired sigh, furrowed his brows, kept his eyes shut against the sunlight. His hands came up to rest on the thighs encasing his hips, the bare skin smooth and warm beneath his fingers. Hair tickled his chest, and a sweet, gentle pair of lips placed the lightest of kisses along his collar bone. Bucky’s hands moved from Dawn’s thighs to her hips, fingers slipping under the hem of a borrowed t-shirt to touch her skin, and he let them simply rest there as she continued peppering little kisses along his chest. He just breathed for a while, let himself appreciate the feel of Dawn’s skin under his hands, let himself just touch like he never could before.

Bucky finally cracked his eyes open when Dawn shuffled just a little further up his body to gently nip at his chin. His heart fluttered in his chest upon seeing her. Hair wild and sleep mussed, eyes soft and sleepy, cheeks warm with wakefulness in the almost-too-warm morning. He would never get used to seeing her that way. He pulled a hand away from her hip when she pulled back, touching his fingers to her cheek, trailing a nearly faded bruise, a reminder of the mission that almost broke them both.

He didn’t want to think about it. They were on the beach to forget, to take some time for themselves, to just exist for a while. He pressed a feather light thumb against Dawn’s bottom lip, and she nipped at it playfully. Bucky didn’t want to break the peace with words. Not yet. He just wanted her. They looked at each other for a minute, lost in their warm, sleepy little bubble, and Bucky was so fucking in love. He cupped his right hand gently around the back of her neck and pushed himself up just enough to press his lips against hers in silent greeting.

She rode him right there, slow and lazy and perfect, the sounds of the ocean, and wind chimes, and sea gulls playing the soundtrack to their shaky sighs.

-

It had been Sam’s idea to send them on vacation, after everything. He basically had to force them into it, booked their flight and all but dragged them by the scruff to the airport. Bucky and Dawn had fought against the idea at first, but Sam was right. They were at the end of their respective ropes, one situation gone south away from losing it completely.

‘You two need to take care of yourselves for a while,’ he had told them, when they showed up, wild eyed and battered, on his door step.

‘Stop being weapons, learn how to be people. Separate the two. I’ll see you in a month. I also expect some grossly cute vacation pictures,’ he had told them at the airport.

Those first few days on the beach were... weird. Dawn and Bucky were in some sort of limbo, stuck somewhere between trying to relax and wanting to run back into chaos altogether.

It didn’t really click, at least for Bucky, until the end of the first week. They had somehow gotten roped into some kind of beachfront bar party by some of the locals in town. It was Dawn’s doing, really. They’d been in the marketplace, just wandering around and buying things they probably didn’t need, and she got to talking with some of the locals when they stopped to eat. They had immediately taken a liking to her. Bucky really couldn’t blame them. She had drawn him in easily enough, after all. She was just sitting there, with her bright smile and musical laugh, looking pretty in a sun dress, of course they loved her. Next thing he knew, they were at a bar at sunset on the never ending beach, surrounded by laughter and music and a whole bunch of people who either didn’t know, or didn’t care who they were.

He was standing at the bar, cradling a fruity drink with a stupid little pink umbrella in it, having a conversation with an older man in one of the ugliest shirts Bucky had ever seen. He found himself smiling, laughing. At ease in a setting he never thought he’d be at ease in again, and he had no idea how it happened. The sand was warm between his toes. The breeze felt nice, his drink was sweet, and he was content.

Bucky would remember seeking Dawn out the moment he understood the feeling. He spotted her on the far side of the bar, dancing with a group of people, her head thrown back in laughter. He briefly wondered how many of those decorated drinks she had since losing track of her in the first place.

“That girl you come with,” the old man said in his broken English, nudging Bucky to grab his attention. “Very beautiful. She has love. My people, they see. They know. You keep her,” he said, giving Bucky a knowing smile. Bucky huffed a breath of laughter, took a sip of his drink. He turned his eyes back to Dawn.

“She’s my best girl,” he said, voice far away, distracted. “I’d hate to let her down.” With that, Bucky pushed himself off of the bar, gave the old man a pat on the shoulder, and excused himself. He made his way through the sand, around bar goers, laser focused on getting to Dawn. He was riding some kind of high, with his newfound contentment with everything around him. He’d remember feeling absolutely drunk with it.

He’d remember the smile she gave him upon seeing him, the subtle furrow in her brow that told him she knew something had changed. The sound of her voice when she said his name in greeting. He didn’t say anything. Just took her face in his hands and kissed her because he could. He kissed her like he could pour every ounce of happiness and peace and contentment that he was feeling into it, like it would make her understand. He could taste the sugar on her teeth, the pineapple on her tongue, and he was so fucking in love.

That night was the first night they made love. It wasn’t just fucking. It wasn’t just the angry, desperate, rushed thing between two trained killers, two weapons who needed to feel something, anything, even if it wasn’t the right time. They made love under the moonlight shining in through the giant, open windows of their beachfront bungalow, and took a bath together in the stupidly large tub, and for the first time in a very, very long time, they started to remember what it meant to really be human. And they were so fucking in love.

[buckybarnabus]

A tiny snippet of a Bucky on the beach fic I’m working on that no one asked for because I watched Monday and I’m in my feelings I’m sorry

He was standing at the bar, cradling a fruity drink with a stupid little pink umbrella in it, having a conversation with an older man in one of the ugliest shirts Bucky had ever seen. He found himself smiling, laughing. At ease in a setting he never thought he’d be at ease in again, and he had no idea how it happened. The sand was warm between his toes. The breeze felt nice, his drink was sweet, and he was content.

[buckybarnabus]

Three Months

Summary: Dawn reappears after going missing for a month.

Warnings: Some cursing, a little alcohol use, a little angsty.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Part 2 of my Snapshots series involving Bucky Barnes and OFC Dawn. I can’t for the life of me write a whole multi-chaptered story, so this will be a series of one shots in no particular order that may or may not develop into something coherent over time. You can also read on AO3 if you want. Thank you!

Bucky hadn’t seen Dawn in a few weeks. He got a little worried after the first two. He had tried calling her on the third, only for each call to go straight to voicemail, and every text he sent never went through. He even reached out to Sam to see if he had heard from her at all. There was nothing. No news of her whereabouts. No one had seen her. It was driving him nuts.

Bucky didn’t want to care as much as he did. He had tried and tried not to get attached, but he failed miserably, not that he would ever admit it aloud. And suddenly he couldn’t sleep, even less so than he was used to. He had tried every avenue available, any hospital in range, any seedy little group he could track down with links to the things that hid in the dark. There was nothing.

It didn’t help that she had left without a word. Dawn knew he liked routine lately, and strangely enough, they had one when things were moderately normal for two former assassins trying to do a little good. Everything about the situation had him on edge.

It wasn’t until late at night, almost nearing a month, that he heard anything. It came in the form of a frantically jiggling door knob in the middle of the night. Bucky was awake, mindlessly staring at the television, some shitty late night movie blaring noise and blue tinted light in the dark of his apartment. The door was open before he could even find his footing, and none other than the Serval herself stood in the doorway.

“Hi,” Dawn said breathlessly, her voice too high, too stressed. She attempted a smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.

“Donnie,” Bucky exclaimed on a breath. She pushed her way through the door she just picked the lock to. “Hi,” he echoed, inwardly cringing at himself at the greeting. He watched as she marched her way into the apartment, before he stiffly made his way to a light. She didn’t pay him much mind before she stomped into the small kitchen. She slammed his kitchen cabinets around, and Bucky didn’t do much more than stare at her as she pulled a bottle of vodka out of one. She twisted the cap off and took a long pull from the bottle before finally turning to face him again.

“Why do you even bother with alcohol if it doesn’t do anything for you?” she asked on a gasp after lowering the bottle.

“Hello, hi, it’s good to see you too, Dawn,” Bucky bit out, suddenly angry. Dawn just about slammed the bottle onto the counter, hackles up in an instant. It took Bucky just a little by surprise. They’d fought and bickered plenty in the past few months, but she was never on the defensive the way she was then.

“God dammit, Bucky, just give me a minute before you start that shit,” she snapped.

“You wanna tell me where you’ve been? You know, for a month?” he retorted. “Or why you’ve been ignoring every attempt I’ve made to contact you? You can’t just disappear off the face of the planet for a month and then break into my apartment in the middle of the night and expect me not to be pissed about it.”

She glared at him for a moment. “Something came up. I had to take care of it. But I’m fine, see?” She gestured to herself dramatically, and spun around for good measure, like she was trying to prove something. “I’m perfectly fine. Crawl out of my ass,” she ground out.

“Oh, you’re fine, everything is fine. Really, Dawn? Guess what? I don’t believe you,” he said. Dawn huffed and snatched the bottle back up to take another hefty swig. Bucky yanked it out of her grip once she got a mouthful, and she made an irritated noise in protest as it spilled over her chin. They stared each other down for a tense moment. Dawn was ready to retort, Bucky could actually see her getting all puffed up and ready to start shouting, but she didn’t. All of a sudden, she deflated. She just looked absolutely exhausted. Her shoulders slumped, and she hung her head with a sigh.

“Can we not do this right now?” she asked, voice quiet. She kept her eyes on the floor as she spoke. “I just... I’m tired, Bucky. I’m tired, and hungry, and I haven’t had a proper shower in... a while. I don’t want to fight with you,” she said. And just like that, in a blink, Bucky’s anger dissolved. He looked at her- really looked at her- and saw the haunted quality in her features, the dark circles under her eyes, and he suddenly just wanted to hug her and destroy whatever it was that put that look on her face. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Bucky lifted the bottle of vodka and took a swig, setting it down with a sigh. “You can use my shower. I’ll get you some clothes and some food,” he said, soft. He gave her a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and left her to her business. He stood in the kitchen, poking at a couple grilled cheese sandwiches with a spatula, and hated that his enhanced hearing picked up on the sound of Dawn’s stifled sobbing down the short hallway.

He pretended not to notice her bloodshot eyes, or the redness in her nose and cheeks when she eventually shuffled out of the bathroom. He just passed her a plate and parked himself on his couch, leaving plenty of space for her to sit. They didn’t speak. They just sat and watched more shitty late night television. Well, Dawn might have been watching. Bucky was too preoccupied watching her surreptitiously in his peripheral vision to pay much attention to the television.

He watched as she picked at the sandwich, taking tiny little nibbles, her eyes laser focused on the screen, like if she stared hard enough at it everything would be fine. He saw her eyes grow glassy with fresh, unshed tears. He heard her breathing grow shaky, though she tried to hide it. She was trying so hard to be tough. And she was tough. Bucky knew that. They hadn’t known each other more than a few months, but she had grit, and willpower, and one hell of a big heart despite everything she’d been through.

Dawn didn’t finish the sandwich, in the end. She abandoned the plate in frustration and ran her hands over her face, releasing a shaky sigh. “I guess I wasn’t that hungry after all,” she muttered. Bucky finally turned his gaze to her properly, brows furrowed.

“Hey-“ he tried.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “For barging in here like I did. And disappearing. And not answering your calls. I should have said something.” Bucky was quiet for a moment.

“What happened, Donnie?” he finally asked, quiet. She gave him a quick glance and wiped a quick finger under her eye. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed stuck in her throat.

“The Handler. My handler,” she finally choked out. “I told you about him before, remember?” Bucky nodded stiffly, his stomach twisting in anticipation. Of course he remembered. She hadn’t told him much back then, but Dawn had given him some insight into who she was, when they first met and she quit the CIA after they had her spy on him. The Handler was the man responsible for turning Dawn into the Serval, once upon a time. All Bucky needed to know was that her younger years were absolute hell because of that man and his teachings.

“He got out. I, um... I had to take care of it,” she said, barely above a whisper. She picked intently at an invisible thread on the borrowed sweatpants. Bucky’s stomach stopped twisting in favor of dropping right down into his feet. He could relate, sort of. Their situations weren’t exactly the same, he knew that. But he knew what a life’s worth of being controlled could do to someone. He dealt with it every day. It made his blood boil to realize Dawn had to meet her past head on, something he knew she wouldn’t want to do, and probably wasn’t even ready for. He briefly wondered why she didn’t come to him for help, especially after all the stupid things he dragged her into. It only seemed a fair trade. But he thought he knew why.

She didn’t like showing distress. She didn’t like needing help. Dawn was very much the type of person to put on a brave face, to put other people ahead of herself, to always be okay. She didn’t need to say it for Bucky to know it. So, for her to barge into his apartment like she did, clearly on the verge of some kind of breakdown, was a big deal. And it damn near broke his heart to see her falling apart right in front of him. He was ashamed of himself for getting irritated with her before. He should have realized something was very wrong the instant he saw her.

Bucky never touched Dawn, not for more than a tap on the shoulder or something of the sort. He never touched her, because he was afraid of breaking her, like he broke everything else he’d touched over the past several decades. But she sat on his couch looking miserable, and exhausted, and fragile, and he hated it.

Bucky reached across the couch and slid his fingers over the hand she had resting in her lap, giving it the slightest little squeeze. He could manage that much. He wouldn’t break her by squeezing her hand just once. He released her hand after a moment and ignored the tremble in her bottom lip. Instead, he got up to grab them a couple of beers to give her a private moment to compose herself.

They had fallen into silence, not that they were really talking in the first place. Just a few tired comments here and there about whatever they were watching. It was actually a pretty funny movie. It made Dawn chuckle a little, and that in itself made Bucky feel a certain type of way he wasn’t willing to acknowledge.

His thoughts drifted a little bit, but they all circled back to one particular question. Why did she show up at his apartment after everything? She could have gone home. Hell, she could have gone to Sam. She knew where to find him, regardless of where he was. She’d made that perfectly clear before she and Bucky ever even met. Those two had become fast friends, when she first sought him out on her assignment for information about Bucky. Sam was way more equipped to handle a breakdown, probably wouldn’t have started yelling at her the minute she walked in. Sam could have given her the comfort she so desperately needed. He could give her a hug and some fluffy words. Bucky could only give her beer and grilled cheese.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer as to why she came to him of all people. Dawn would probably just say something sweet, and pull him that much further into her orbit. She was good at that, whether she knew it or not.

When Bucky was finally able to pull himself out of his thoughts, he chanced a glance at the girl beside him, and he froze. Dawn was still curled up in one corner of the couch, in a tight, safe little ball, but she had slumped over onto the arm of if. Her eyes were closed, and her face was relaxed, smushed slightly into the fabric under her cheek. She looked a little goofy, but she was fast asleep, and she looked more calm than she had the entire night.

Bucky couldn’t do much more than stare at her for a good long while. She was asleep on his couch, looking goofy and soft and sweet. Even awake, he wondered how she could keep that part of her, given her upbringing. Almost from the moment she truly stepped into his life, after she sold herself out to him, after that one big fight, after everything, she’d always been... well, she’d always been Dawn. When she was spying on him, and even after, she’d been the sugar in Bucky’s bitter existence.

He really didn’t know how to feel about that, and he supposed that was why he had a tendency to lash out at her for stupid things. She was something good, something Bucky wasn’t allowed to have. But, like the greedy asshole he was, his subconscious latched onto that good thing, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. So of course he roped her into all his bullshit about amends and righting his wrongs. And then, naturally, he would pick a fight with her the minute he felt almost okay. Because it had only been three or so months since they’d known each other, and he was afraid of how attached he’d gotten in such a short amount of time, so he panicked and found a way to push her away.

But, she was as stubborn and as patient as they came. She didn’t treat him like some fragile thing, like he would snap if she said one thing wrong. When he picked a fight, she fought back. She didn’t get all wide eyed and fearful like a million other people would. Then again, most other people weren’t trained killers like the two of them. She stood her ground, let him get it out of his system. Told him he was being an asshole. The dust would settle, he would pout for a while- not that Bucky would call it pouting. Then she’d come back all smiles and tease him about ‘being all broody and manly’ and find a way to pull him out of his moody slump like the bright little light that she was.

Three months, and Bucky didn’t want to know a life without that light. Three months, and he was ready to fly out the door to hunt down and beat the absolute hell out of whoever had the audacity to try and put that light out. Three months, out of a hundred years, was all it took for Dawn to waltz into his life with her hopefulness and her smile, to leave Bucky terrified in a way he had never been before.

But, after the events of the past few hours, the look on her face, the tightness in her voice, Bucky couldn’t help but wonder just how much of it was an act. He wondered if she was always just teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something broken and sad and desperate. He knew she was a great actress when she needed to be, that part of her whole career was putting on some sort of show. He wondered just how far Dawn was willing to take it for the sake of being okay.

Bucky shook his head when he realized what he was doing. He was staring way too long, for one thing. Thinking too hard for another. He couldn’t keep doing that. Thinking would only send him down a rabbit hole of a million other things he didn’t want to have any part of. He stood up, plucked the beer bottle out of Dawn’s limp hand carefully, hoped she wouldn’t wake up. Thankfully, she didn’t.

Bucky didn’t sleep that night. He didn’t want to risk it. Instead, he retreated to his room, but not before pulling one of his blankets off the ground beside the couch and draping it over Dawn’s curled up frame. He sat on the bed he rarely used, left the door open just in case. He read a book until the sun rose and the city started coming back to life.

Dawn had slept hard into the late hours of the morning, and Bucky let her. She really needed it. She didn’t stir when he finally started a pot of coffee, just laid there, sprawled out on the couch in a dead slumber. She didn’t stir when he started making a breakfast of bacon and eggs and toast, at least not at first.

He watched her from the corner of his eye when she finally sat up, looking around a little confused, keeping most of his focus on the bacon in front of him. He listened to her joints crack as she stood up. She stretched with a sweet little groan and shuffled into the kitchen, just stood in the entrance for a moment. She wanted something, he could feel it. He just didn’t know what, but he was willing to wait her out as long as it took. He kept his focus on the food in front of him until she was able to get whatever it was she wanted out of her system.

Dawn didn’t touch Bucky, like he didn’t touch her. But for different reasons. He knew it was just because she wanted to respect his boundaries, didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or upset. He appreciated that about her. She was too good of a person, at least for him.

Bucky focused on cooking, took a sip from his mug off coffee. Set it down. He set it down, and suddenly there were arms wrapped around his middle, a body pressed into his back, a forehead resting just between his shoulder blades. He froze. Dawn was hugging him, and his brain all but short circuited. She was hugging him, and it made her more real, more solid, more scary. He was going to burn the bacon if he didn’t move, was one panicked movement away from shaking her off of him and finding some way to ruin everything. But he didn’t. In that brief moment, he sort of understood that she needed to do that. He accepted it, through sheer force of will. Instead of wriggling away, he dropped his hand and reached back, his palm landing on her hip. He gave it a couple awkward pats and a gentle squeeze in acknowledgment. And then she was gone just as quick as she came, in favor of finding a coffee mug and pretending nothing happened.

He listened to the sound of her pouring herself some coffee, the contented little sigh she let out upon taking that first blessed sip. He finally turned his head to look at her fully, her sleepy eyes watching him carefully over the rim of the mug.

“How do you like your eggs?” he asked. A tired little grin graced her lips as she lowered the mug. She was sleepy, and soft, and smiling, and Bucky’s heart may just have skipped a beat.

[buckybarnabus]

Quick sneak peak into the next part of my Snapshots series. Will post tonight or tomorrow.

“Can we not do this right now?” she asked, voice quiet. She kept her eyes on the floor as she spoke. “I just... I’m tired, Bucky. I’m tired, and hungry, and I haven’t had a proper shower in... a while. I don’t want to fight with you,” she said. And just like that, in a blink, Bucky’s anger dissolved. He looked at her- really looked at her- and saw the haunted quality in her features, the dark circles under her eyes, and he suddenly just wanted to hug her and destroy whatever it was that put that look on her face. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

[buckybarnabus]

I’ve got a million drafts in progress for my Snapshots series and I absolutely DeSpIsE all of them, and I’m just complaining for the sake of complaining. One of these will work out eventually.