#sorry if this sucks it's literally the first time bucky actually speaks and idfk but this might be too cute for post-tws bucky

[ohwhatamessiam]

Give  -Part 2

Summary: Bucky and (Y/N) had an amazing yet brief relationship in Bucharest before all hell broke loose. Two years later they reconnect in a bar in Brooklyn, but things have changed and neither are the same as they were before. Will their relationship survive or is a break up inevitable?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Language, angst, discussion of illness (stomach virus) and fluff I think is all for this slow burn.

Author’s Note: Hi again! This is part 2 of my submission to @bladebarnes’s #bladehits2kchallenge with the song Give by You Me At Six. It’s still all first person narration and I’m sorry that I suck, but parts 2 through 5 (maybe even 6) will all be completely flashbacks. But like cute or emotional flashbacks that I promise will hopefully be good. A god bless your beautiful soul to @lostboyinneverland for beta-ing for me again, I love you my bologna eating friend. Also here’s a Spotify playlist to listen to while reading the entire fic. Hopefully you all will like this and please bug me if you do!

And if you haven’t read Part 1 yet, please do!

The first time Bucky Barnes spoke to me was on the same busy street lined with vendor stalls. It had been 2 days since Bucky caught me snorting at his hair, and both days were spent inside my studio since it had been pouring rain in Bucharest. That alone time meant I hadn’t be able to get his strained smile off my mind.

Although the rain hadn’t completely stopped, it lightened to a sprinkle during the early afternoon on the third day and I needed to leave the apartment. Surprisingly, there were a few vendors open and one that I found easily was a candle stall. There were several people poking around, buying different size candles, and speaking much more fluent Romanian than I could fully comprehend. The little bit I could catch was discussing different apartments losing their electricity and needing light.

I snuck into the corner of the stall, picking up a couple of the pillars to smell. They each had different fragrances like lavender, lemon, and rose, but nothing too sweet or artificial. One of the signs at the stall said “3 pentru 10” meaning that 3 candles would equal 10 lei, the currency in Romania. I picked out 2 rose and 2 lavender and lemon scented candles and showed them to the man behind the stand. “Cât de-, de mult… pentru patru?” I stumbled, wanting to know how much 4 candles would cost.

He pointed to the sign that said 3 for 10 and I repeated my question again, knowing that I wasn’t fluent enough in Romanian to haggle about the candle prices. I felt Bucky’s strong and quiet presence behind me before he spoke, a flicker of familiarity and warmth spreading up from my gut. Pulling a tight yet polite smile across his lips, he approached the table and began speaking to the man. They went back and forth quickly, and I could barely keep up with what they were saying, but I caught that Bucky kept asking for the cost and that the stall owner was possibly trying to up the price of an extra candle.

After another moment of quick negotiating, Bucky turned to me, his blue eyes holding my gaze for the first time ever. In perfect English with no accent he said, “He wants 13.50 lei for them.” My eyes widened as I registered that he must not be from Romania, but I nodded, placed my candles on the table and dug into my wallet for the 13.50. His voice had sounded gruff when he spoke to me, but in Romanian he sounded smooth, almost musical. As I handed the man my money, Bucky’s covered fingers placed the candles into a brown paper bag quickly. After the man had waved me off, Bucky shoved the bag into my hands and turned on his heel.

I spun around to follow him, weaving past the few people on the street but he moved so much quicker than I could. “He-hey!” I called out as I followed him across the street, pulling the hood up on my jacket. “Mulţ-, uh, thanks!” He looked over his shoulder at me, his baseball cap shielding his eyes, and nodded. He turned his focus back to the street and continued to stalk away from me, but I wasn’t letting him go that easily. I picked up my speed and followed him for half a block until he stopped at a corner to wait for some cars to pass. “Hey! What’s your name?” I asked as I caught up with him, my breathing uneven.

“Why do you need to know?” he asked, his voice coming out low and gravely again. He turned to look at me, his blue eyes appearing gray and becoming harsher as his jaw tensed.

“Well we’re neighbors, and if I’m gonna keep seeing you around and you’re gonna go out of your way to help me, I should at least know your name.”

“You don’t need to know my name. You need to work on your Romanian,” he snapped, catching me off guard and almost making me flinch. He noticed how I reacted to his small display of aggression, and I saw his eyes soften the tiniest bit as he dropped my gaze and continued walking.

I ignored my nerves and continued after him. “Oh, come on. We don’t have to be best friends, I’m just new here and having a vaguely familiar face around would be nice.”

He came to an abrupt stop, causing me to nearly crash into him. Turning to face me, he let out an exasperated sigh, “You’re not gonna stop following me, are you?”

“Nope,” I smirked as I tilted my head to the side.

He looked away from me and took in a deep breath as he tightened his fingers into fists. As he exhaled he dropped his gaze back to me and spoke quietly, “My name is Bucky.”

Taking my small victory as it came, I gave him a toothy smile and stuck my hand out to shake his, “It’s nice to meet you Bucky, I’m (Y/N).” His eyes dropped to my hand and he stared at it like it was a foreign object. After a moment of awkwardly leaving my hand outstretched, I shrugged and dropped it. His dark blue eyes met mine once again and regarded me with a nod. I nodded back and just as quickly as he had stopped in his tracks, he turned and continued on his way. This time I didn’t follow him, but called out, “See you around.”

The first time I saw Bucky Barnes blush was in the doorway of my apartment. There was one more day of rain in Bucharest after I’d first spoken with Bucky. The day after that when the rain cleared up, I decided to adventure a little further into the city. I’d gone to a museum and a couple old churches, and on my way back to my apartment, I stopped at a small restaurant and ordered some food. Unfortunately, I found out about 3 hours later that whatever I’d eaten either wasn’t cooked, or my body just couldn’t handle it because I was up all night vomiting. Even after my stomach was empty I didn’t stop dry heaving until the next morning. When my stomach eventually calmed down, the rest of my body was so tired I passed out on my bed.

I didn’t stir until there was a series of loud thuds against my front door. I shot up out of my sleep too quickly and had to regain control over my gag reflex before I could even place my feet on the ground. The knocks started again and I pushed myself off my mattress and padded to the door. Peeking through the tiny peep hole, I caught Bucky’s sharp jawline and chin-length brown hair before I registered that he was there. I paused with my hands flat against the door and looked at what I was wearing. A pair of boyshorts, sports bra, and tank top would have to be good enough today, and I wiped around my mouth to make sure there was no drool or dried grossness left on me.

Unlocking the door, I realized my breath probably still smelled like vomit but I gulped my concern and tried to put on a pleasant smile to greet Bucky with. His left hand paused in mid air as if he was about to knock on the door again, and then he tucked his hair behind his ear and shoved the gloved hand in his jeans pocket. His right hand was tucked behind his back. “Hi,” I croaked out of my sore throat.

“Uh, um, hi,” Bucky stammered out as he glanced at my hair and clothes. His eyes settled on my feet and he pulled a brown paper bag out from behind his back. “I uh, heard you up last night, with all your ugh, sickness.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry if I kept you up,” I apologized as I dropped my gaze to his chest. Somehow he was wearing two shirts and a jacket over. I leaned a little closer to him while placing my hand on the door frame, focusing on his face again.

“No, no, I was just a jerk to you a couple days ago,” he said as he shook his head and then finally held my gaze, “And you said you didn’t know anyone here so I figured I’d do something to apologize.” He lifted the bag a little higher between us, prompting me to take it from him. “It’s supa de pui cu galuste, it’s the Romanian version of-.”

“Chicken noodle soup,” I finished for him as I accepted the bag. “Yeah, I know.” I peeked into the bag and found a quart sized container filled with soup, a sleeve of crackers, a bottle of ginger ale, and a bottle of Gatorade.

“You know the food better than you know the language?” he asked, his brows furrowing.

“Yes, yes, very much so,” I nodded as I turned on my heel and walked down the hallway to place the bag on my small kitchen table. “But admittedly, I’m much better with other languages than I am with Romanian.” Bucky stepped tentatively toward my door, pausing in the door frame and causing it to squeak. “You can come in, if you want.”

“No, no, I’m okay.” He hesitated in the doorway, peering around my apartment without ever entering it.

“Yea, it’s probably best, you don’t want to get sick if this is a stomach bug,” I said as I took the drinks out of the bag and placed them in the crappy, old fridge.

“Oh uh, I didn’t know if you’d drink either of those but I heard those are good for stomach issues.” I glanced over my shoulder at him and nodded before I shut the refrigerator door. “And um, I haven’t been sick in a long time.”

I walked back to the doorway, staying just a couple feet in front of Bucky, taking in his raised arms that were placed on either side of my door frame. His body language told me he was slowly becoming more relaxed with me, and as he settled into my doorway his shoulders appeared even broader and his biceps pulled against his jacket. I had to force my attention back to his face, yet I wanted to reach out and touch him or even yank him into the apartment. “I mean, that makes sense, you’re built like a fucking truck,” I said as I lifted my hands towards his shoulders but stopped myself before I touched him.

When I shifted my focus back to his face, I caught a slight flush spreading across his cheeks and that his blue eyes had gone wider than usual. “Ugh, sorry,” I clasped my hands in front of me, “I know I don’t know you very well and cussing doesn’t make the best impression.”

He leaned a little farther into my doorway, causing his hair to fall over his face as let out one of the most beautiful sounds I’d ever heard, a low, soft chuckle. “No, no, it’s okay. I used to be around more language, it’s just been a while. Even then, women didn’t curse around me much.”

At that moment, I knew I’d do anything to hear that chuckle again. I tried not to wring my hands together too tightly as I tried to handle the butterflies rising from my stomach. “I’m normally a little better at filtering out my language unless I’m with certain people, but I’ve been kinda sick so I guess my filter’s gone.”

“It’s okay, you just surprised me,” he started as he swiped his hair back behind his ears. We both heard a set of footsteps somewhere on the stairwell behind us. “But it was a good surprise, I promise.” He tilted his head to the side and gave me a smirk, “It reminds me of home.”

“Home?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Ugh, Brooklyn actually.” He removed his hands from my door frame but kept his relaxed body language as he looked at me, a small smile pulling across his lips as he thought about home.

“Ah, then you’re used to hearing way worse,” I nodded and peaked past his shoulder. The footsteps got closer, and when they sounded like they were a few floors away from us, I saw him stiffen, erasing every inch of comfortability between us. Noticing how he continued to stare at me but that his eyes had gone distant, I knew he was focusing on whoever was on the stairs instead of me. “But ugh, thanks again for the soup, I really appreciate it.”

He shifted his attention back to me and nodded, “You’re welcome, feel better.” He took a couple steps backwards, placing distance between us.

“I’ll try, and um, I’ll owe you dinner or something for this,” I added as he got closer to the flight of stairs above my apartment.

“You really don’t have to,” he said with modesty, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle.

“No I should, and we can figure that out later,” I answered as he stepped onto the first stair. “But thanks again, see you around.” He gave me a polite wave as he continued up the stairs and I closed my door a moment later. I watched him take the rest of the stairs to his apartment that were visible through my peephole, and tried to not focus on the fact that I’d maybe, just possibly, invited him over for a date.

Tags: @irishdancr24 @fangirlisms-22 @suz-123