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wkemeup · 5 years ago

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I’m With You (1/3)

series summary: When two strangers meet on a layover in the Charlotte Airport, they find that a lifetime can sit in the span of three days and it doesn’t take very long at all to fall in love. pairing: bucky x reader warnings: super soft!bucky, shenanigans, literally no legit warnings its a miracle, rare kas fluff a/n: the first part of this fic was inspired after I got stuck in Atlanta on a layover a few months back and my imagination ran wild lol 🌸series masterlist // series playlist 🌸

T H E L A Y O V E R

Perhaps you should have known it was coming after the second time the flight got delayed. Nearing on two hours past your departure time and with a monsoon brewing past the windows outside, it was a wonder anyone at the gate was still holding onto hope. That was, until the moment the young gate agents with cheeks burning bright red announced that your flight had been canceled.

In most circumstances, you wouldn’t have been relieved as you were in that moment, standing in a never-ending line extending out into the middle of the walkway with disgruntled, stranded passengers grumbling under their breath and arguing amongst one another.

Most circumstances didn’t involve you flying to Atlanta to attend the wedding of the last and only man to break your heart.

You stood behind a rather tall man in a dark navy business suit, carrying a leather briefcase and tapping his toe incessantly as the single gate agent attempted to address the needs of the completely booked flight currently waiting in line. The man in the suit was barking orders at what seemed to be a poor intern on the other end of the phone as he nudged an elderly woman ahead of him to take a step forward the very second the line moved up.

With a roll of your eyes, you took a sip from the burning hot coffee you’d purchased shortly after the second delay, despite the fact that it had been nearing 11:00pm at the time. You seemed to be the only one who was mildly relieved by the cancelation and threat of spending an overnight stay in the Charlotte airport, though that didn’t surprise you much. Still, you didn’t much mind the possibility that you would have a genuine, no-fault-of-your-own, entirely-mother-nature’s-curse, excuse to avoid your ex’s wedding.

Then, carrying gently between the aggravated conversations around you, the soft humming of someone standing behind you pulled you from your daze.

You didn’t dare turn around, but you listened intently, caught up in the low vibrations of his voice, not entirely in key, but charming, and sweet. It sat in sharp contrast to the chaos surrounding you to hear something so relaxed, at ease, amongst the panic and frustration.

The coffee was still hot on your lips and you winced as it passed on your tongue. The man ahead of you folded his arms over his chest, relentlessly making a show of looking up and around those ahead of him to prove he had better things to do, to show that he was impatient and clearly irritated by his situation as he was the only one with somewhere to be.

Those ahead of him weren’t much better; the lot of them all on the phone with representatives from the airlines and demanding their money back, demanding answers for next available flights, and blaming poor customer service for their troubles as if it was the gate agent’s fault that a monsoon had plundered its way through North Carolina.

“What a bunch of barbarians,” the voice behind you chuckled under his breath, the humming pausing for only a moment. His tone was like honey and you found yourself smiling, suppressing the subtle movement of your shoulders as you laughed quietly to yourself at his comment.

“Bet the guy at the desk is going to lose his shit in about two minutes,” he said to himself, though you wondered briefly if he was talking to someone next to him or behind him, or maybe even you, though you didn’t dare to turn around. No one else responded to his commentary.

You glanced up ahead to who he seemed to be referring to, to find a middle-aged man in khaki slacks and a light blue polo, gripping a newspaper harshly in one hand and tapping his knuckles against the counter top with the other. His face was beet red, jaw clenching, and starring daggers into the poor gate agent.

It barely took longer than a few seconds before the man slammed his fist down onto the countertop, causing you to flinch in response. The honey-voiced man behind you chuckled under his breath, clearly amused by the aggressive reactions of those around him.

You found yourself wanting to turn over your shoulder, to steal a glance at the man with the sweetest sounding voice, even in off-key humming, who laughed in times of chaos and didn’t seem to be bothered at all to be standing in a seemingly never-ending line nearing midnight in the middle of Charlotte Douglas International.

In your brief moment of distraction, you didn’t notice the man in the suit take a sharp step back in reflex to the person at the front of the line waving their hands about, setting off a chain reaction of passengers flinching away from the scene. His elbow slammed down into the lid of your coffee and it slipped from your fingers with a gasp.

The cup fell to the floor in the kind of slow motion you see in the movies, like maybe if you reached out in time you could have grabbed it mid-air, but instead the cardboard cup slammed to the tile and the coffee spewed from the top as the lid broke away, dousing the pant legs of the man in the suit ahead of you. He yelped, jumping away from you and shoving you back with a harsh thrust.

Unsteady on your feet from the shock of it, you fell back into person behind you, into the man with the honey voice and the amusing observations. He caught you before you hit the ground with his arms hooked under yours, smelling of something like warmth and comfort and flannel and fireplaces, before you even caught sight of his face.

Blue eyed. The damned near bluest eyes you’d ever seen in your life and they were gentle, kind, like they were painted with care with several shades from the Mediterranean Sea and a cloudless sky and the petals of an iris. Bristles of scruff on his cheeks and dark brown hair brushed up in sweeps away from his eyes. He smiled softly at you, reassuringly, as he helped you back to your feet.

“You alright?” he asked softly and you nodded, just about lost in the smooth tone of his voice, up until the moment suit-man let out an aggravated howl.

“Look what you’ve done!” the man shouted, grabbing at the backs of his pant legs in disgust and sending darting glares at you.

Your lips parted to say something, but you were never good under pressure, not with so many wondering eyes looking over in your direction, whispering to one another, pointing and staring. Cheeks burning red and heating all the way down your neck, you felt a pang of embarrassment, of shame. You bent down quickly to retrieve the empty cup, stepping away from the pool of coffee on the floor.

“I’m-- I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t--”

“You didn’t mean to?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Do you have any idea how much this suit costs?! Probably more than a month of your salary, sweetheart!”

“Hey man, back off! It was clearly an accident,” blue-eyes interjected from behind you, carefully side stepping around you to put himself in the cross hairs. “It was your elbow that knocked it out of her hand in the first place.”

The man glared at blue-eyes, studying him up as if he was determining if carrying on this fight was worth it with a man at least a decade younger and a build twice his size. He seemed to only be eager to kick and yell and fight when it was at a target without much of a will for defense, someone like you. You clenched your jaw, hating how easily you fell into that trap.

“Goddamn millennials,” the man in the suit grumbled under his breath, narrowing his eyes on you one last time before he turned his attention back to the front of the line. You let out a heavy sigh, the relief pouring through you almost instantly. You gripped the empty cup in your hand until it bent and crumpled at the center.

“What an asshole,” blue-eyes grumbled next to you, offering you a soft kind of smile that still managed to crinkle up by his eyes. He glanced down at the cup folding under your tight grip. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied slowly, though you kept an extra foot of distance between you and the man in the suit, even as he took a step forward when the line moved. “Thanks for that, by the way. You didn’t have to say anything.”

“Sure, I did. Chivalry still exists, you know,” blue-eyes said, that charmingly smooth tone of his voice running almost in shivers up your spine.

“Not in my experience,” you muttered under your breath, uncertain if he could hear you, though he raised an eyebrow, his smile faltering somewhat. If he heard you, he didn’t say anything.

You waited for what felt like another hour before you made it to the front of the line. The gate agent looked exhausted and practically winced at you stepped up, as if he was preparing himself for another verbal attack, but you were soft spoken and patient with him, a kind of change he wasn’t expecting.

Blue-eyes was on your right, talking with the second agent who had rushed up to the counter to assist. You could feel him glance over at you every few moments as you complimented the agent on his organization and calmness under pressure, getting the young man to laugh nervously in response.

The gate agent smiled a bit as he handed you a tentative flight and instructed you to listen to the overhead monitors for any changes. You nodded as you took the new ticket and grabbed your bag, getting ready to go find a quiet place by yourself to mentally prepare for facing this weekend after the nightmare it was already starting out on.

Attending your ex’s wedding was already a worst case scenario on its own. Now you’d have to show up with less than a few hours night rest, if any at all. You were sure you’d hear comments circulating about the bags under your eyes and the exhaustion plated on your face they’d no doubt attribute to remorse for a relationship that was kinder in your memories than it was in real life.

You started to make your way out to the walkway when you heard a voice call out behind you.

“Wait, hold up!”

You turned over your shoulder to find blue-eyes finishing up at the counter and swinging his bag over his shoulder, a new ticket in his right hand. He jogged a few paces to catch up with you as you stilled.

“Any chance you’ll let me replace that coffee?” he asked with a warm smiling brimming on his lips.

“What?” you gaped.

You glanced down at your faded leggings, worn sneakers, and flannel hanging loosely over your shoulders. You didn’t consider yourself the type that men approached for that sort of thing, especially men with eyes that blue and a voice like honey.

“I figure it’s going to be a long night and finding sleep in a place like this is almost impossible,” he chuckled nervously, scratching at the back of his neck, “so why not stock up on caffeine? I know a café in Terminal C with a halfway decent blend and its usually pretty empty.”

“Oh,” you muttered anxiously, cheeks heating red because a man that gorgeous couldn't possibly be serious. The suspicion was already creeping up through your stomach, screaming at you that he was like the rest of them, like he was exactly like your ex, that he would hurt you or that he was looking for repayment of some kind. You didn’t have much experience of anything else. “Well, I don’t-- I don’t know--”

“You can say no,” he offered quickly, though he winced as he said it. “Of course, you know you can say no. What I mean is, you can tell me to ‘eff off’ and I’ll leave you alone, but I just thought... I thought that guy was a jerk and he ruined a perfectly good full cup of coffee and if you wanted, I’m happy to get you a new one. I just—I figured that your night is already pretty shitty with the flights being grounded and then that sonuvabitch -- who didn’t even apologize -- yelled at you for no reason and--” he grimaced. “I’m rambling. Sorry.”

You watched him carefully, studied the way he fumbled over his words, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink, even through the light scratches of his beard. It was almost endearing. You hadn’t seen a man blush like that before. There was a lingering kind of sadness behind the ocean blue of his eyes you couldn’t quite place and it drew you in unlike anything else.

“Terminal C, huh?” you asked, pulling the nerves from your voice the best you could and his smile lit up again instantly.

“Yeah, Terminal C. It’s a bit of a walk, as long as you don’t mind?” he said, lugging his bag over his shoulder and gesturing for you to follow him out into the hall.

“Don’t got much else to do,” you shrugged, surprised that you found yourself smiling as you strolled up next to him.

He had a comforting kind of ease to him and you wondered why he also seemed to be relieved by cancelations. You had your reasons and looking around at the frustrated looks on bystanders faces as you walked by, the arguments amongst family members, the children crying, you couldn’t help but question why blue-eyes didn’t seem to be bothered at all.

“My name’s Bucky, by the way,” he said as he stepped aside at the moving walkway, letting you pass by him to take the first step. He slid onto the walkway behind you with one step.

“Well, it’s nice to be meet you, Bucky,” you replied sincerely, leaning against the right side of the railing as the floor beneath you carried you slowly down the hallway. You had the time to be leisurely and let the walkway move for you.

In the brief moment of silence that followed, Bucky was smiling as he stared at the floor, stealing glances over at you like he was waiting for something. You were about to ask him what he was looking at until he asked, “do I get the pleasure of your name as well, or should we save that for later?”

You laughed, the nervousness offsetting the embarrassment of completely forgetting obvious social cues. Gripping at the edge of the railing, you watched as he stared out into the sea of people as you rode by, smiling softly at the kids who were curled up under their parents’ coats draped over them in blankets and laughing, almost impressed, at the teenagers who had started gathering in a circle, all huddled around their portable games.

Pushing out a kind of confidence you hadn’t known in years, you said, “you buy me that coffee you were talking about and maybe I’ll give you a name.”

Bucky grinned, turning back to face you, clearly amused by your answer. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Walking at a leisurely pace, it took a half hour before Bucky gestured for you to stop in front of a small café tucked into the corner next to one of the empty gates, lights barely illuminated with a single staff member hunched behind the counter on his cell phone. The tables were empty and it looked like no one had been there all day with the shelves of to-go items fully stocked.

“Welcome to the best coffee in the Charlotte Airport,” Bucky grinned, extending his arm out like he was showing off a new car. You narrowed your eyes on his, pursing you lips and he dropped his hand, chuckling lightly. “I never said it was particularly good, but it’s not terrible. Plus, we’ve got the place to ourselves if you allow me to stick around.”

“You want to?” you asked, cursing yourself for how timid you sounded. Another thing to blame your ex for. The ex whose wedding you’re supposed to be attending tomorrow. Goddamnit.

“Don’t got much else to do,” he shrugged, repeating your words from when he had asked you to come with him in the first place with a teasing kind of smile that made your stomach twist into knots.

You nudged him hard in the side, laughing, and he stumbled away a few paces, grinning wildly until it crinkled up by his eyes. You wondered if you’d ever seen a man more beautiful in your life, though you pushed the thought away quickly.

Bucky jogged up to the front counter, gathering the attention of the teenager on his phone as he slowly glanced up, slipping his phone into his pockets.

“What can I get you?” the kid asked, voice low and slow, like he’d just woken up from a nap.

“Anything fancy for you or keep it simple?” Bucky turned back, asking over his shoulder. You gave him your order and he smiled at it, ordering one of the same. The teenager didn’t seem to be amused by Bucky’s charming smile and huffed an exasperated sigh as he started to make the drinks.

“You sure you don’t mind?” you asked as Bucky handed over his card.

“It’s just a coffee, doll. I don’t mind at all,” he said, the pet name rolling off his tongue as if it didn’t mean much of anything. It left a burning, twisting ache in your stomach and a heat in your cheeks, forcing you to nervously tug and pull your hair behind your ear.

You wondered if it was a name he gave for any woman whose name he hadn’t yet learned; perhaps, the same way older men called waitresses ‘sweetheart’ or the way the man in the suit had so patronizingly taunted it at you earlier, though there wasn’t even a hint of a condescending tone in Bucky’s voice. It was genuine. He was genuine.

You thanked him and followed him to the small table tucked in the corner of the café, away from the hall though with enough of a vantage point to watch for stranded passengers as they walked by. Terminal C seemed to be pretty empty so there wasn’t much chance for that, though he told you he liked to take every opportunity to people watch as he could. There was just something so fascinating about how strangers acted when they weren’t putting on a show, when they were at ease, purely themselves.

You set your new ticket on the table, keeping a watchful eye of the flight number like the attendant had instructed you to in case any changes were made overhead. Bucky did the same and you noticed they put him on a separate flight. The ounce of disappointment didn’t slip your notice but you shoved it aside.

“The departure board’s got more red on it than green,” Bucky said as he settled into his chair, “might be time to seek food and shelter and buckle in for a long night.”

“You sure you’re in Charlotte Douglas and not the Hunger Games?” you laughed, adjusting your bag next to your feet.

“You’ve never endured an overnight in Charlotte, have you?” he countered teasingly.

You shook your head and he let out a heavy sigh, though a smile brimmed on his cheeks, almost like he was excited.

“The hotel’s already booked up by now and as soon as these people realize they’re not getting a flight out of here until tomorrow morning, hell is gonna break lose,” he informed you, carefully watching a family of five as they passed by hand in hand out in the walkway. The father had an anxious kind of look on his face every time he glanced at the youngest of the children as if he was expecting for the boy to realize at any second he wasn’t going to be in his bed tonight with his favorite stuffed animals. He was a ticking time bomb.

“We’ve got about an hour left before the food joints start shutting down and then after that, nothing until six-thirty sharp,” Bucky continued, “Plus, you figure you need to secure an outlet or two and a decent place to sleep, if you’re able to do that sort of thing in a place like this.”

“Good lord,” you exhaled, crossing your arms over your chest as you smirked at him, “guess you better get started.”

“Oh, I am,” he replied casually with a shrug. “Step one is securing alliances.”

You narrowed your eyes on him, scouring his face for signs that he was mocking you and searching behind him for a hoard of his buddies hanging over his shoulder snickering to themselves as their friend messed with the sad girl alone at the airport, you came up completely empty.

“You’re actually serious?” you gaped.

He nodded. “Of course. I’ve already got the caffeine and the ally. We’ll need to secure some snacks next. When you’re ready, of course. Though, we do have a time restraint here so don’t be too long with your coffee.”

“Well, for one, I can take this on the go,” you joked, lifting up your coffee with a teasing grin.

“See how well that went last time though? Can’t risk running into any other asshole businessmen in expensive suits worth a month of your salary, sweetheart!” Bucky mimed eccentrically, trying to mock the voice of the man in the suit but failing halfway through in a fit of laughter.

“Okay, fine,” you conceded, removing the lid to your cup and letting the steam loose. You sighed at the fresh smell of coffee as it filled your lungs and warmth spread through you before you could even take a sip. “So, we stay here for a bit and finish our drinks. Then we’ll find snacks. Then what?”

Bucky shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee before he spoke again. The content sigh that followed sent shivers up your spine. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, doll. It’s a process.”

“Naturally,” you agreed with a smile on your lips so wide it ached in your cheeks.

Bucky sighed, leaning back into his chair, glancing out into the walkway and studying those who passed by. He was so content, so unbothered by the cancellation, as he casually sipped his coffee, stealing glances over in your direction every so often, you couldn’t help the curiosity as it built up.

“So, you were going to Atlanta, too?” you asked before you took another sip of the steaming coffee.

“Trying to. It’s been, uh, it’s been a while since I’ve gone down there,” he replied, though his smile faltered a bit before he could catch it. You narrowed your eyes on him, surprised by his reaction, though you didn’t push it at all. He cleared his throat, pushing it back out though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How's the coffee?”

“Wonderful now that it’s not covering the back of a furious businessman’s suit,” you responded, taking another sip. Bucky chuckled under his breath and you found yourself missing the soft glimmer behind his eyes. It returned when you asked him about the last time he’d been stranded in Charlotte, as he clearly had experience with it.

He spent the next half hour telling you every ridiculous story you couldn’t have made up if you tried about the bizarre things he’d witnessed at three in the morning walking around the terminals and what kinds of trouble he got in back in his younger days with the airport security for doing cartwheels down the halls.

“Cartwheels?” you laughed, struggling to keep your breath as your eyes watered. “You can’t be serious…”

Bucky was beaming as he nodded, all blue eyes and pink lips and chocolate colored hair raking through his fingers. He pointed over your shoulder to an open space by the escalator.

“I crashed into the railing right over there,” he nodded, then gesturing to his hip bone, “it landed me a bruise for a few months right on my side.”

“How old were you?” you asked, struggling to contain your laughter enough to take another sip of your coffee that was already room temperature.

Bucky scratched the back of his neck, cheeks red, and so incredibly adorable it was simply unfair. “Twenty-one.”

“Of course, you were.” You shook your head, watching as he hid behind his coffee cup as he took a big gulp, evading your eyes and glancing over to the open space like he was caught up in memories.

“So, what about you?” he asked as he set his coffee down again. “You ever been stranded here?”

“Fortunately not,” you shrugged, finishing off your drink with a content sigh. You glanced over at the clock, wondering how so much time had passed without even realizing it. It had been ages since you’d felt that way around someone.

“Sounds like you're in need of some Charlotte layover tradition then, doll,” Bucky grinned, something mischievous brewing in his head as he chugged back the rest of his lukewarm coffee and tossed the cup into the nearest trash with a full layup stance. He did the same with yours. “Come with me.”

He extended his hand to you as he stood, long lifelines extending along his palm and you noticed a sliver of marred scarring peeking out behind the sleeve of his over-shirt. You narrowed your eyes on it, curious, but he pushed down the fabric nervously.

“Please, doll. I promise it’ll be fun,” he urged, not letting his hand drop away even as you eyed him reluctantly.

“How do you know my idea of fun? You still don’t know my name,” you teased, having already decided to take up his offer the moment he extended his hand but it was so incredibly endearing to watch his nerves on display.

“Oh, I know, but I’m confident you’ll tell me soon enough,” he said, grinning wildly as you slipped your hand into his regardless. Firm and rough, with callouses on his hands like he’d spent years in service and labor jobs, but gentle like he was holding something precious as he helped you stand. An enigma.

The teenager behind the counter had been watching you with an irritable look on his face and you nudged Bucky’s side as he picked up both of your bags in his free hand. Bucky followed your gaze and then took a quick glance at the clock before he started to laugh, pulling you towards the hall.

“Think we overstayed our welcome here,” he grimaced, nodding to his watch that read it was past midnight. “Coffee shop was supposed to close ten minutes ago.”

“Oh no,” you pouted, turning back to the cashier with an apologetic smile as you called, “sorry about that!” over your shoulder.

Bucky led you to the center of the hall. Around you were a few stranded passengers from flights heading out west, all looking like they’ve been kicked and dragged through the mud. Meanwhile, Bucky was smiling like he just won the lottery. You didn’t realize his hand was still gripped in yours until he dropped your bags beside him with a heavy thud and he let go.

He took in a deep breath, sending a wink in your direction as he took a single step away from you and pushed his hands out into the sky, swing his momentum around in an acrobatic swing that was admittingly quite awful, with bent legs and wobbling landing, but... a cartwheel.

Holy shit, he was serious.

A few random passengers lying on the floor had propped up to look in his direction before turning over to ignore him. Bucky wiped his hands on his pants as he grimaced at the dirt he’d collected. He nodded at a woman in high heels as she walked past giving him a strange look of both disgust and attraction. She might have been eyeing him before he went and did that ridiculous cartwheel, but a man that handsome had some allowances for odd behavior, didn’t he? She seemed to think so, but Bucky paid her no mind as he turned back to you.

“Your turn.”

“Absolutely not,” you scoffed, laughing nervously as you took a step back.

“Absolutely, yes,” Bucky retorted, grabbing your hands and tugging you to the spot where he was just standing. “This is tradition, doll. You can’t mess with a tradition.”

“Do you realize how insane you sound?” you accused, though you were smiling so wide it started to hurt in your cheeks. His hands were still on yours and his lifted them above your head, nudging your feet with his shoes to get you in starting position.

“You’ve done a cartwheel before, haven’t you?”

“Of course,” you shot back, “back when I was fifteen, Bucky!”

He grinned, stepping back and letting go of your hands. “Then you’ll be perfect. Just like riding a bike.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s the same thing,” you mumbled, blushing as a middle-aged couple walked by and rolled their eyes at the two of you. Bucky must have noticed.

“Don’t worry about them, doll,” Bucky said quietly, arms folded over his chest as he planted his feet, waiting patiently. He smiled softly at you, the overly confident and borderline cartoonish character falling away for a moment and you found yourself lost in shades of blue you could have drowned in if he’d let you.

Shit. You shook your head, tearing your eyes away from his. Stop thinking like that.

Do the damn cartwheel.

Bucky rubbed his hands together in anticipation and you closed your eyes. One deep breath in, you held it in your lungs as you propelled yourself onto your hands, touching the ground with the full of your weight for only a second before you were on your feet again.

Guess it was like riding a bike.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Bucky shouted, drawing the attention of the very irritated passengers attempting to sleep in the corner of the hall. It was still midnight, after all. But in the mist of his energy and the way he was smiling at you and rushing towards you to high-five your hands now covered in a thin layer of dirt, you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care about the wondering eyes of the stranded observers.

“We better get those snacks before the shop closes,” he said, turning to you with a massive smile.

How was it possible to so easily get lost in the eyes of a stranger you hardly knew? Blue and grey waves sharper and softer than that of the ocean. Pink in his lips that drew you in and you didn’t realize you were staring until he grabbed your hand, tugging you along.

You started to laugh as he dragged you down the hall, not letting go of your hand as he led you down to a corner store with walls lined with snacks. He grinned like a kid in a candy store and gestured for you to walk in like it was a five-star restaurant. The fact that he waved at the cashier who returned his greeting in a familiar smile didn’t slip your notice.

“Do you know him?” you asked, following Bucky further into the store to the back wall lined with snacks, in past the magazines and novelty t-shirts.

“Charlie and I go way back,” he nodded, strolling carefully through the aisles, hands clasped behind his back as he contemplated his choices and he glanced back up at you, smiling that sweet smile that made your stomach twist. Though he paused as he said, “I used to get trapped here overnight a lot growing up.”

He lost his smile a bit as he spoke and it surprised you, unsure of what kind of memory he was thinking back to that could possibly take even a sliver of his smile away from him. You grabbed a bag of your favorite chips from the wall and tossed it over at him. They hit him straight in the chest and he caught them before they fell, the smile returning quickly as he looked over at you with a feigned look of offense.

He grabbed a few bags off the wall after careful selection and raised them up for your approval. You nodded at every choice, except for the bag of jerky he’d held up teasingly. Once he’d gathered enough to fill his arms, a solid mix of salty chips and sweet chocolates and candies, he made his way up to the cashier.

Charlie’s name tag was long faded and he looked like he had been working here for decades. He took his time scanning through Bucky’s items, though he raised an eyebrow at the bag of Skittles and Bucky nodded, a silent conversation between the two before Charlie slipped the candy into the bag.

True to his word, Bucky pushed aside the cash from your hand as you tried to pay and he handed Charlie his card. You grunted, doing that little dance most couples do on a first date when the bill comes, though you started to blush as soon as the thought made its way into your head.

This wasn’t a date. This was... well, you didn’t know what this was, but it was certainly anything but a date.

An acid trip, maybe? An elaborate dream? One of those cheesy Hallmark movies where an angel or a ghost from your past teaches you how to open up and love again?

Probably.

But definitely not a date. He didn’t even know your name.

By the time Bucky gathered the bags of snacks and you followed him out to the main walkway, stranded passengers had begun lining up at every fast-food join within sight, lines carrying far down into the hallway and grumbled groans as managers came out to inform the crowds they were running out of food.

“What did I tell you?” Bucky grinned, nudging your shoulder and you shook your head, trying to suppress your laughter. “Chaos starts once these tourists realize they’re trapped. Someone’s going to start trying to buy food off of people before they take their first bite. Just you wait.”

He was something from a dream, you were sure of it.

“Okay, fearless leader. What’s next?”

He chuckled at that and your stomach flipped a little, though you did your best to ignore it.

“Outlets and shelter,” he replied matter-of-factly, like he’d done this dozens of times before, as he studied the hallway to the left and right, determining which was the better way to go. He chewed on his lip, clearly caught in thought before he straightened his back and turned to you with a grin. “I’ve got a place in mind. You trust me?”

“I don’t know you and you still don’t know my name,” you responded teasingly, though somehow, you knew the answer was yes.

“Sometimes trust is something you learn over time and sometimes it’s a gut instinct,” he shrugged, offering you his hand. “What’s your gut telling you, doll?”

“That you might be an insane person... or an abirritation,” you laughed, though you grabbed onto his hand and let him lead you out into the hallway, “but clearly, I’m okay with that.”

“That’s all I need,” Bucky beamed, tugging on your hand to get you to walk faster until you were practically jogging.

Lugging your suitcase behind you as Bucky held a firm grip onto the bags of snacks in on hand and you in the other, he led you far away from the crowds of people, past the moving walkways and the food courts, past the gates with attendants behind the counter, until the lights were dimmer and you passed by nearly five gates that were completely empty.

He let go of your hand and gestured to the gate marked A29 with a familiar smile on his face, though it seemed a little sad with a crease forming in his brow and a slight tremble of his hand clenching by his side.

“How did you know this place would be deserted?” you asked in awe as you tossed your bag onto one of the dozens of open chairs, spinning yourself around freely like you were in the meadows on a warm summer day and not currently trapped in an airport with a monsoon outside and stuffy air-conditioning blowing through the vents.

“Had a hunch,” he replied, though when you rolled your eyes playfully at him, he chuckled, conceding, “I saw this terminal had most of its flights out before the storm broke. Figured it would be pretty untouched for the rest of the night.”

“You’ve been out here before,” you observed, catching the way he stared longingly over at a corner by the desk like he was watching an old memory play out in front of him. Though he wore his smile again, it was softer now, sadder. He seemed caught up in his imagination and you took a careful step forward, tapping on his shoulder and smiling enough for the both of you. “Come on. I’ve got first dibs on the Doritos.”

“So,” Bucky started, “you never said why you were going to Atlanta.”

“Neither did you, smart guy. Why would I give that information away to a complete stranger?” you teased, following Bucky as he led you to the series of outlets against the wall. You slid down the window, leaning against it as rain pummeled against the glass from the other side.

Bucky shrugged, smiling encouragingly as he sat down next to you and pulled his phone charger from his bag. “You don’t have to tell me anything, doll, but I noticed the way you smiled when the gate agent announced our flight was cancelled when everyone else was groaning and crying. You were smiling. Just curious, is all.”

You narrowed your eyes at that, watching him silently as he plugged his phone in and the face of a young girl illuminated on the screen. She was smiling, almost mid-laugh, and Bucky was off in the background of the image, racing towards her, perhaps a few years younger judging by the haircut. She looked a little like him.

You wondered then if she had anything to do with why he had lost some of his energy as he came up on this gate, falling into a memory he recognized. He was complex man; you’d give him that.

“I was... um... going to a wedding,” you confessed slowly and Bucky smirked, pleased to get something out of you.

“You sound unsure about that,” he pointed out, ripping open a bag of chips and plopping four into his mouth.

You shrugged, “yeah, well, even if I make it in time tomorrow, I still don’t know if I’ll go.”

“Why’s that? Seems like a long way to travel if you’re not gonna--”

“The groom is my ex.”

“Oh shit,” Bucky coughed on the chips that were about halfway down his throat. He leaned over, heaving into a napkin and you rubbed at his back instinctively, careful circles over the soft fabric of his t-shirt as his whole body shook with each cough. You pulled away with a blush as he smiled at you once the fit subsided. He sat back again the wall, brushing his wrist over his lips as he stole another look over at you. “You’re joking.”

“Afraid not,” you shrugged, pressing your lips into a thin line.

You were embarrassed to even say it aloud, to have to first explain to all of your friends why you agreed to go even as they begged you not to, to have to pack your bag and tell your mother why you won’t be home for Sunday dinner, to have to say it even to this man who was practically a stranger who’s approval and kindness you suddenly found yourself craving. Two years since the break-up and you still struggled to get past the man who broke your heart. Saying no to your ex, to Jack, wasn’t something you were used to and it came as old habit.

“This monsoon might have just saved you from a weekend in hell,” Bucky exhaled, turning to face you with a smile that lightened the anxiety in your chest. He offered you the bag of chips and you took them gratefully.

“You’re probably right,” you said, tossing a few chips into your mouth, though you knew the universe would find a way to get you to that wedding, whether or not you were ready for it.

“You on good terms with the guy, at least?” Bucky asked and you shook your head, clenching your jaw.

He frowned, though he didn’t press you any further as he must have noticed your cheeks flush, shame seeping in you. Bucky let out a tired exhale, leaning back against the window and slumping further to the floor.

He cared, that much you could tell. He was bothered by the fact that you were going to this wedding, alone, and that even with all that you didn’t even have a good post-breakup relationship with the guy. You wondered how it was possible for someone to learn to care so fast and what your night would have been like if he hadn’t been standing directly behind you in that line, if the monsoon never rolled in and this handsome, incredibly endearing stranger never stormed into your life.

Would you have gone to that wedding, watched the man you once thought was the love of your life devote himself to a woman after he broke your heart over his inability to commit? Would you have cried through the ceremony and drank yourself into obligation because he’d hurt you so bad you hadn’t been able to even date since he left you?

Would you have boarded that flight without a second thought to the stranger with the blue eyes and the infectious smile?

“What about you?” you asked carefully, taking another bite of the chips before handing it to him.

“What? You trying to do a something-personal-for-something-personal kind of thing?” Bucky laughed, though there was a nervous edge to his voice.

“Only if you want,” you offered, smiling gently at him and giving him the out if he wanted it. It hadn’t been very long since he avoided the question the first time when you had been sitting over coffee in the empty café.

He took in a heavy breath, though it was shaken. You narrowed your eyes, watching him carefully as he sat up, straightening his back and brushing his hair back from his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m, supposed to uh, I’m supposed to see...” he sighed, scratching at the back of his neck, his voice falling low suddenly. His lips pursed into a frown and the light faded from the blue of his eyes. Something was clearly bothering him and he couldn’t seem to even string the words together.

“I haven’t seen her since I... and my ma says that I’ve been...” he groaned, clenching his jaw and running his hand over his lips. He wasn’t making much sense, that much was clear to the both of you. His eyes fell to the floor and he was only a whisper of the man who stood laughing at the hoard of passengers at your gate.

He was layered, dimensional; both the man with confidence unlike you’d ever seen and the shy, nervous guy with a heart bigger than most men you knew.

Your stomach hurt just watching him struggle to answer your question.

“Y/n,” you blurted out, catching his attention and he raised an eyebrow. You let out a steady breath. “My name. It’s Y/n. Something personal for something personal, right?”

Bucky nodded, repeating your name back to you and a soft smile came over his lips. It sounded like velvet and honey and all kinds of wonderful coming from his voice. He relaxed a bit, the tension slipping from his shoulders. “It’s a nice name. Y/n. Suits you.”

But his voice was still low, aching, and it made your heart twist.

“Come on,” you urged, grabbing his hand and lugging him back up to his feet, determined to bring back the witty and charismatic man who threw you into this mess to begin with. You didn’t like seeing him upset.

“Thought you wanted to know--”

“Not now,” you replied casually and you could practically feel the weight lift off his shoulders as you dragged him over to the massive checkers set in the corner of the gateway set aside for restless travelers. “I’ve got a preposition for you.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“I get to ask you a question every time I knock one of your pieces off the board,” you proposed, positioning yourself on the side of the board with red chips as big as your shoes, “and if you get one of mine, you get to ask me a question.”

“Do I have to answer?” Bucky teased, folding his arms over his chest and you could already see him coming back into himself.

“Only if you don’t want to be a total loser,” you shrugged kicking your piece out to make the first move. Bucky laughed and squatted down at the board, taking his time to determine his trajectory before he made his move.

It only took three turns before you knocked out one of his pieces.

“Truthfully now,” you started, eyeing him as he crossed his arms over his chest, “in all of your layovers, how many people have you dragged around this airport doing cartwheels and raiding convenience stores?”

A laugh burst from Bucky’s chest and you swore you’d never heard a more beautiful sound in your life, his whole body caught up in the moment. It had been a while since you’d seen someone laugh like that without trying to suppress it. He was unlike anyone you’d ever met, though, you supposed you knew that already.

Then he paused, folding his arms, studying you. “You want to know how many women, don’t you?”

“That’s not what I said,” you retorted, trying to hide your blush, though it was obvious as day.

“Only one before you in all my years,” he responded with a nod, “but she was a frequent flyer with me. Not what you think and certainly not the same.”

“That didn’t make a lot of sense, Bucky,” you accused with a grin, “you’re being cryptic.”

“Maybe you should ask a more specific question next time,” he countered with a sink.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you grumbled as Bucky started to eye the board for his move.

“So, you think I’m cute?”

You froze, heat flushing into your cheeks as you realized what you said. Glaring up at Bucky as he watched you amusingly. You rolled your eyes.

“Like you don’t already know,” you huffed, trying to push aside the embarrassment you felt through a playful smile.

“Still, it’s nice to hear,” Bucky grinned, nudging his piece to jump over yours and he discarded the red coin off to the side. “How long were you with this ex?”

Your breath hitched in your lungs and you cleared your throat, taking your time to meet his eye again. “You don’t mess around, do you?”

“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p’ on the purse of his lips.

“Three years,” you said quickly, before you could lose your nerve. “He was my college boyfriend. Had plans to move in together and talked about getting married ourselves before he decided he’d rather ‘explore his options’ once graduation came around. Hadn’t heard from him since. Until I got the invite to his wedding. Guess he found a better option.”

“Yikes,” Bucky winced, “what an asshole. Why did you even agree to go to his wedding?”

“Sorry, you already used up your question. Better wait for your next turn.” You winked at him, holding your pointer finger up as you maneuvered your way around the board to find your next move. It was a relief to cut him off. Your relationship with Jack wasn’t an easy one to talk about and you didn’t want him to think of you the way Jack often saw you; small and spineless. So, you pushed out a smile and pretended you were fine.

Bucky shook his head, armed folded over his chest enough to see the prominent outline of the muscles in his biceps, and he laughed at your response. It was a sweet kind of sound that made your chest fell warm, even with the anxiety in your stomach at the very thought of your ex. It was genuine for as often as he did it and it seemed to live permanently etched into his cheeks.

You went back and forth for a few turns, each picking off the other’s pieces on every round. He asked you about your family, about your favorite flavor of ice cream, about your movie preferences and your day job. You asked him about the scars lining his left arm, peeking out as he scratched at his wrist and he told you it was from an accident on the job, though he didn’t elaborate further. You asked about the college shirt he was wearing any why he dared to go to school in Georgia if he was really a New Yorker like he claimed, though he laughed it off and said it wasn’t his alma mater. You asked about his typical coffee order and hair routine and how he got it so fluffy and he laughed so hard, tears welled in his eyes.

It was almost a half hour of the simpler questions before Bucky knocked out another one of your pieces with satisfied hum and took a moment to think of his question. He watched you for a moment, studying you almost, and your stomach lurched a little. Not because he made you uncomfortable, but because you could see the carefulness behind his eyes, the soft smile on his face, and a man like that looking at you like you were something special was an unfamiliar feeling to say the least.

“You don’t really think this woman he’s marrying is ‘the better option,’ do you?”

You bit down so hard on your lip you drew blood. The sincerity of his question threw you and your heart must have skipped about a dozen beats before you could even blink. Bucky must have noticed your sudden distress and he clenched his jaw. A red heat formed in his cheeks you never would have expected.

“Maybe I should say I’m not trying to pry, but I clearly am,” he admitted with a tired laugh. “I’ve only known you for a few hours, Y/n, and I don’t know how anyone could think you’re anything but the best option. And if this guy was with you for years, it shouldn’t even be a question.”

“That’s... that’s really kind, Bucky, but you don’t know me,” you mumbled, unable to meet his eye and losing every ounce of confidence you had clung to around him. Jack had a way of doing that to you, even when he wasn’t around.

But Bucky was determined. He shook his head, crossing the board and grabbing a tender hold of your arms, urging you to look at him. His hands were warm against you, large, a little calloused and rough on the edges but so incredibly gentle.

“I know that you treated that poor gate agent with empathy and patience and got him to laugh after the hell storm of passengers who had just spent their time yellin’ at the guy. I know that you agreed to follow a borderline intrusive stranger through an airport at midnight at the promise of caffeine,” he said, smiling sweetly. “I know that you apologize to teenage employees for staying a few minutes past close without realizing it. I know that you can do a near perfect cartwheel and how you take your coffee.”

“Bucky, I--”

“I know that you’re funny and adventurous and kind. I know that you’re incredibly perceptive and you changed the subject when you caught onto how hard it was for me to tell you why I’m going to Atlanta,” Bucky said casually, sternly almost just to make you believe him, as if his words didn’t make your heart swell so much in your chest it hurt. “Your ex is an asshole, is all I’m saying. He never should have said something like that to you. You’re someone’s best option, you hear me? Don’t settle for some jerk who tells you you’re anything less.”

You swallowed nervously, getting caught in deep oceans of blue and grey as Bucky held onto you. There wasn’t a trace of anything but sincerity in his eyes and you wondered how it was possible he even existed. He rubbed gently at your arms, like he was trying to draw warmth, and the smile on his lips was enough to float butteries in your stomach.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you said softly, sincerely, and he nodded at you encouragingly.

He stepped back to his side of the board and you missed him standing so close to you, missing his hands on you, and you clenched your jaw, trying to push the feelings away.

“Since you didn’t technically answer my question, I’m asking another one,” he said lightly, grinning wildly and it brought back the smile to your face. “You’re from New York, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Queens. Live there now, too,” you replied, wondering how on earth he was able to deduce that and watching the way he smiled to himself, nodding. “Why?”

“Not your turn to ask questions, Y/n,” Bucky teased, though he seemed pleased with your answer. “Make your move, Queens.”

You laughed, already feeling light again and amazed by how easy it was for him to bring that back out in you. You nudged a piece with your foot and swerved it around of two of his. You kicked two black pieces off the board.

“That’s two questions,” you pointed out and he shrugged, challenging you.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you studied him for a moment. There were a million different questions you could ask. You thought about asking whether he’d been born and raised in the city like you, if he’d ever traveled abroad, what the military tag on his suitcase was for and if he ever served. You wondered if he was single, if this was a one night thing where you’d go your separate ways and never see one another again, if he was really as kind and as charming as he seemed because you still couldn’t believe he was real.

You were about to ask him something trivial because you were too afraid to get an answer that would break your heart when he cleared his throat.

“Or,” he started, nervously, “you could ask one big question?”

You narrowed your eyes, confused, and waiting for him to continue.

He sighed. “You could ask about my sister. If you want?”

You paused, watching the way he swayed in his stance, arms fold tightly across his chest like he was trying to hold himself together. She must be the girl in the picture on his phone, the reason why he started acting strange, upset, when he tried to tell you why he was going to Atlanta.

He nodded at you and you could tell he was ready, that he wanted to talk about it now, and you gestured to the wall adjacent to the game. He followed you silently, sliding down the wall to take a seat on the floor next to you. He folded his legs under him while you tucked your knees up to your chest, waiting patiently. You didn’t know the question to ask, but he let out a heavy sigh and started for you.

“Her name’s Rebecca. Bec. We used to travel alone a lot when we were kids to go see our dad,” Bucky said softly, scratching the back of his neck. “We had layovers here a lot and if the flight got cancelled, we’d just get stuck overnight. I mean, I was old enough to watch out for her okay so it wasn’t a big deal, but she used to get scared. So, I started making it a game. It happened more times than you would think and it managed to make her feel better, got her laughing. We used to spend all our money at that convenience shop on chips and candy and race in these halls and do cartwheels and blast music and play games over by that gate.”

You smiled as Bucky talked. He stared off across the gate to where your bags were, over where the memory he had been reliving earlier was, and avoided your eyes, but you knew this wasn’t the hard part of the story. You let him keep going without interruption.

“We got to know some of the people who worked here over the years, like Charlie,” he continued, though his voice dropped a little as he tried to clear his throat. He took in a heavy breath but he struggled to find his words again.

“That sounds really nice, Bucky,” you said encouragingly and he nodded.

“Yeah, she uh, she used to love it, but we don’t-- she doesn’t talk to me anymore,” he confessed, clenching at his jaw painfully and winging his hands in his lap.

You watched as he yanked and pulled on his fingers, a nervous habit you used to see in your father after he’d been in a near fatal car accident, a symptom of anxiety. Without giving yourself a second to back out, you reached into his lap and placed your hands over his until they stilled.

He froze, staring down at your hands and allowed you to pull his left from his right and carefully grasp it in your own hand, holding it tight and offering him a gentle smile. He exhaled, relieved, and squeezed your hand before he continued.

“I enlisted right out of high school,” Bucky said, pulling your hand to rest on his thigh as he ran his free hand over the back of your palm. “Bec was so pissed at me. Especially when they sent me overseas. But she still wrote, still answered my calls. Until I got hit by an IED and got my whole arm shredded.”

He pulled up part of his sleeve to reveal marred skin under the t-shirt he wore. It was faded, healed over the years, but still ridged, still mutilated by the blast. He sighed, pushing it back down like looking at it was even difficult for him. You squeezed his hand.

“I was home for a bit, just trying to heal,” he continued, “but once I was cleared by the doc’s, I wanted to go back. That was the last straw for my sister. She—she just couldn’t understand why I’d go back after that. She said she’d never speak to me again if I did and I tried to tell her that I had a duty, that I had friends who died in that blast and being over here was hell for me. It was back then. But she didn’t understand. She still doesn’t and she held true to her word. She hasn’t spoken to me since I went back, not since I came home either. I’m out now and I still can’t get her to return my calls. She just cut me off completely.”

“Oh, Bucky,” you sighed, heart breaking as he bit on his lip, clearly trying to suppress a lump in his throat.

“I’m supposed to be going to her college graduation,” he said tensely, sniffling a bit. “She doesn’t know, but Mom’s been on me to fix things for years. I just... I don’t know how and I’m fucking terrified that she’s going to take one look at me and tell me to leave or turn her back to me or, I don’t know, ignore me completely. She’s my little sister and I miss her but I don’t know how to make her understand. I’m not sorry for going back. It’s what I needed to do but, I hate that I lost her because of it.”

It was silent for a moment and you watched as the clock opposite you turned on three in the morning. Bucky’s breaths were uneven beside you as he tried to pull himself together. Each passing moment you spent with him, you only wanted to learn more, wanted to ease him through his pain, to make him smile and laugh.

But there was a truth he needed to hear.

“I’m not sure she’ll ever understand, Bucky,” you said slowly and Bucky clenched his jaw. It was clearly something he’d been thinking about, though he didn’t want to admit it. You sighed, rubbing at his hand in slow circles. “I don’t think anyone but someone who has lived through what you have could understand wanting to go back. She clearly loves you and she was probably terrified for you. Sometimes, when someone you love puts themselves back into the heart of danger like that, it's easier to shut down than deal with the possibility of losing them.”

Bucky nodded, taking in your words. You gave him the time he needed, letting him sit with the silence and the thoughts in his head until he was ready. You watched the gears turning, watched as he squeezed your hand in even intervals, and let out a steady breath.

“Sorry I’m such a bummer,” he said after a while, a tired laugh in his voice and he shook his head as you started to object. “I hate that I was relieved when our flight got canceled but I know I’ll have to find a way there regardless. I thought I’d spend tonight in this airport just sitting in my anxiety and thinking about all the ways I’ll disappoint her again, but then you spilled your coffee all over that pretentious asshole and you... you caught me by surprise, Y/n.”

He turned to you, his free hand snaking up to slide along your cheek, cupping the side of your face as his fingers danced in your hair. The way he was looking at you, with startling shades of blue and a sincerity you hadn’t known in a man in years, your stomach twisted and turned on itself in the best possible way. His eyes flickered down to your lips.

“It’s your turn,” you whispered, eyes drifting over to the game.

“Will you let me see you again?” he asked quietly without skipping a beat, not even bothering with the pieces on the board and you didn't mind, not as he was leaning closer to you, his breath against your skin.

His lips touched yours and it was sweet and short so impossibly brief because suddenly the overhead speakers let out a sharp, high-pitched chime as the transmitter turned on. You jumped at the shock of it and Bucky pulled away, the spell broken and the ghost of his lips aching on your own.

“Attention passengers flying from Charlotte to Atlanta on flight 937,” the voice called in muffled tone, “Please see an agent at Gate B9. Your flight is now scheduled to depart at 3:50am.”

You sunk against the wall and Bucky fiddled nervously with his hands.

“That’s your flight, isn’t it?” he asked, disappointed and you nodded. He sighed, hulling himself back up to his feet and offering you his hand. “We better get you over there in time, then.”

You looked up at him for a moment and contemplated just skipping the flight to spend a few more hours with him. Was it insane? Naïve? Maybe. But he was unlike anyone else you’d ever met and you didn’t think you could stand this being the last time you saw him.

“Come on,” he smiled sweetly, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “I’ll walk you to your gate and everything, be a proper gentleman since you’d been so gracious tonight before I send you off--”

“Attention passengers flying from Charlotte to Atlanta on flight 1176,” the voice spoke again and Bucky froze, “please see an agent at Gate C2. Your new flight is now scheduled to depart at 3:30am.”

“Shit,” he cursed, glancing down at his watch to find it was already nearing 3:20. He clenched his jaw, looking down at you apologetically. “I... I have to go.”

You took his hand and he helped you back up to your feet, though he didn’t let go right away. He stared at you for a moment, longingly, like leaving right now was the last thing he wanted to do. It was the last thing you wanted, too.

You walked with him, hand in hand, to the side of the gateway with your bags. He stuffed the snacks into the plastic bag and handed them to you, though you tried to resist, but he shoved them into your backpack with a smile anyway.

“Take the skittles, at least,” you tried to persuade him, “you picked those out.”

“I can’t stand ‘em, actually,” he chuckled sadly, shaking his head. “I always got them for Bec. Guess I was a little stuck in routine.”

“So, take them with you,” you encouraged, kneeling down next to him and pulling the red bag from your luggage and placing it in his hands. He stared down at it for a moment, tensely. He didn’t meet your eye but you carefully rubbed at his shoulder until the tension drained. “Bring them for her. Call it a peace offering.”

Bucky smiled sadly, but he nodded, the appreciation clear in his eyes as he rose back to his feet and offered you his hand, which you took effortlessly.

“How did I manage to find you?” he asked so quietly so you almost didn’t hear it. He was watching you with a kind of bewilderment in his eye and your cheeks began to flush, until you noticed the clock affixed to the wall over his shoulder. Your heart sank.

“You should get going, Bucky. You’ll miss it,” you said, trying to mask the sadness in your voice though it did little use.

“Yeah,” he replied. He didn’t move.

The two of you stood there for a few moments, just staring at one another, wishing the night didn’t have to end. But you had a wedding to attend. And he had a graduation.

“Bucky,” you urged again, squeezing his hand.

He nodded, detangling your fingers with a new kind of determination. He reached into his bag and dug around for a pen and paper. Scribbling messy handwriting on the notepad, he ripped off a page and handed it to you.

“Take this, please,” he said, and you grasped the crumpled paper in your hand. A series of numbers listed on one side in thick black ink. “You don’t have to do anything with it if you don’t want, but I hope you do. I hope you call.”

You nodded, running your thumb along the dried ink before you met his eye again; blue unlike even the clearest morning sky.

“I have to run,” Bucky said sadly as he started to back away. “Thanks for putting up with me for a while.”

“Thanks for asking me to,” you called back, watching as he walked backwards as long as he could until he checked his watch again and grimaced at the time.

He wanted to say more, that much you could tell, but there wasn’t time. He gave you one last wave and turned on his heels, sprinting down the terminal and taking a sharp left. You watched until he disappeared from view and you were alone in the gateway, surrounded by his memories and a new one of your own.

The crumpled paper stayed firm in your grasp the entire walk to your newly assigned gate, your mind caught on Bucky with every step. Even as you boarded, as you sat in your seat and closed the window shade, leaning against the wall in an attempt to find rest, the paper never left the grip of your hand.

A crumpled paper with a number of a stranger. A friend. Maybe something more if you let yourself believe it.

It was exciting and terrifying and magical at once.

You slipped the paper into your pocket as the plane left the runway and lifted into the air, whirring sounds of the engines and cabin pressure lulling you to sleep.

You thought only of Bucky; of blue eyes and nervous laughs, of cartwheels and potato chips, of painful questions and reassurance unlike you’d had in years, of rosy cheeks and soft pink lips.

You weren’t sure you’d ever think of anyone else again.

How does it start? And when does it end? Only been here for a moment, but I know I want you But is it too soon? To know that I’m with you There’s nothing I can do [I’m With You - Vance Joy]

feedback is so so appreciated 💖(apologies if you got tagged twice - the whole post deleted itself for a hot second lol)

tags 🌸@sweetheartbarnes / @musiclover1263 / @pies-wands-and-more / @buckygrantbarnes / @mywinterwolf / @breatheeagainnnn / @jewelofwinter / @panic-naran / @fairislesheets / @kaliforniacoastalteens / @captain-hammer-of-asgard / @daydreamsquad / @deanssweetheart / @maybesomedaytho / @montypythonsholysnail / @saharzek / @imsoft-barnes / @galaxkay / @vitamingrant / @alohafromhell1 / @happyeyesandsunshine / @hillface89 / @searchingforbucky / @20coldhearts / @past-perfect-future-tense / @bucknasty-barnes / @clarysthing / @denimandcabernet / @ohthedevilsanus / @sarcasm-ing / @yknott81

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #marvel #buck barnes x female reader

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