Work Text:
You and Bucky have known each other for a handful of years. He refused Stark's offer to move into the giant tower in the middle of Manhattan with several of the rest of the Avengers and opted for a quieter life in a small run down apartment in Brooklyn. He gave up having a staff and a continuously stocked kitchen for crying children down the hall, a sometimes faulty heating system, and windows that rattled any time a storm blew through.
It made perfect sense to you. He seemed much calmer and much more at home among the residents of your small apartment complex. Bucky had been trapped and forced to be in close proximity with people who made him uncomfortable for nearly his entire extended lifespan. He wanted to make the choice to live where he wanted, in a mostly quiet little one bedroom on the same street where he grew up. It was home.
Alpine lets out a loud meow at you as you crack open his apartment door without knocking. You have a pie from the bakery down the street in a canvas bag in your hands pulled with plums - his favorite. You were just going to leave it on the edge of his counter and sneak back out as if you were never there.
It had become a game between the two of you. You would pick up a pie, a new toy for Alpine, a small bag of snacks, or something similar on your way home from work and see if you could get past his extensive super senses by making it back out without him noticing. Bucky did the same after missions. You would wake up to leftovers in your fridge that hadn't been there before, a small note to let you know he was home safe, a bowl of fruit on your table. He always won. You never knew he had been there.
Alpine paws at your foot and yowls. You reach down and scritch her on top of her little white fluffy head and shush her.
There is hardly a noise before something solid and cold grabs you by the wrist. The pie hits the floor and your chest hits the wall faster than you can blink.
Just as quickly, you are free and the large frame of the occupant of the apartment us scrambling backwards and apologizing profusely, his eyes cast down at your feet. "Oh god, did I hurt you?" came tumbling out of his mouth as he gawks at the shiny metal that is his hand as if he was forgien and didn't actually belong there. It is the first time he has actually touched you without gloves with his left hand. He always avoided touching anyone, even Alpine, with the titanium limb.
The adrenaline recedes quickly as you process what had just happened, you gather the bag from the floor with a hopefully not ruined pie inside before you carefully ease yourself around the wall of the apartment toward the kitchen. You make a solid effort to move slowly but deliberately toward the countertop.
"Hey, Buck. It's okay. I'm not hurt. You just get home? I didn't realize you were gone."
He nods quietly as he continues to stare at his hand.
"Rough mission?"
"Very," he coughs out as his voice cracks.
"If I'd of known, I'd of just saved this for tomorrow and let you rest." You pull the aluminum pie tin out of the bag and wince a little as pieces of the crust stick to the cardboard when you uncover it. The smell of fresh baked dough and plums immediately fills the apartment. "It's still warm. Sorry it got a little banged up."
A soft practiced smile spreads across his face as his attention finally snaps away from the metal. "Is that what I think it is? From Lucas' place down on the corner?"
"Yep. They were on sale. A catering gig got canceled and he had too many. Who would of thought?"
You place two crumbling pieces on a pair of plates before sitting them down gently.
He slowly moves from where he had been standing to one of the stools on the opposite side of the counter. He runs his right hand through his hair, still clearly very shaken.
"Buck, it's okay. You had a rough one. I know how your brain gets. Breathe." You reach down and take his metal hand in yours in an attempt to ease his guilt. Bucky scrambles backwards off of the stool, almost landing square on his ass on the floor.
You lift your hands, palm out, in front of you quickly as an apology before rushing to help him up. He shrinks back away from you.
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I'm going to give you some space to breathe. I will be literally just across the hall, okay? The second you need me, just knock. Save me a piece of that, would ya?" You gesture at the pie still sitting untouched in the kitchen. "You get some rest. Movie night tomorrow? I'll order pizza. I promise to save Alp my pepperonis."
Bucky smiles weakly at you and nods, curling in on himself. "That sounds good, doll. Im — I'm sorry, this one messed me up. I'll knock if I need you. I promise."
The knock came at your door three days later. You hadn't heard a peep out of him all week. It's rare that it takes him that long to get his head on straight, but sometimes it happens. You open the door to a broad chest that nearly fills the frame. A plastic container is in his hands. His eyes are still a little wild, wide and darting around the room.
"Hi. I, uh, brought you leftover pie," a soft smile plays across his lips sheepishly. "Sorry it took me a couple days."
You pull the container from his grasp and stash it away in the fridge as he walks in, the little white fluff ball on his heels. Alpine never leaves her daddy's side when he's having a rough go of it. She would have just annoyed the entire hall if he had left her across the hallway.
You pull the promised bag of pepperoni out of the fridge before you close the door and feed her one.
You watch in slight shock as Bucky tugs his gloves off and drops them onto the chair beside the door. Letting out a small measured breath he says quietly, "Baby steps. My therapist keeps telling me baby steps."
He walks further into the apartment as if it's just an extension of his own and wraps his arms around you tightly in an almost desperate hug. You feel as if you are anchoring him to the floor. His chest heaves in a long sigh as you stand there for a moment just wrapped in the solid warmth of his body.
Bucky is the first to back away. The sudden lack of body heat makes you frown slightly.
He smiles and cups your cheek with his calloused right hand before extremely slowly and carefully placing his left hand against the other side of your face. You can barely feel it. The touch is feather light. You lean your cheek into the metal palm and grin wide at him.
You feel his soft lips press against your forehead and he murmurs "baby steps…" against your skin.
He takes a step backward, shakes himself gently and gives you a toothy smile. "Still up for that movie night, doll? Alpine wanted me to ask."