Soft Robotics ✧ Bucky Barnes

(signal[4.12]);

Thank you for loving me for a while

I couldn't stand it knowing that he really meant that.

At lunchtime, when I was alone in the lab, I tried to call Bucky again. I wanted to know if it would ring, so I'd know that he was at least alive to turn it back on. Or, I thought, maybe that didn't matter. Anyone could turn it on.

But it went straight to voicemail again, and I started speaking in a rush. "Hi. Um, I was just checking on you again. Or, I mean, that's why I called the first time too, but I didn't leave a message then. Sorry. This is probably annoying. Okay, um, just let me know when you can. Or Steve. Okay. Oh, also, I didn't feel your heart racing that one day. Or maybe I did, but I didn't notice. I know you wrote that so I would think about it and remember more. I remembered that I was worried about the same thing, because I know you definitely could feel my heart racing since you're you, so I was too worried about mine to notice—I think there's a time limit on voicemails so I'm going to hang up before I reach it because that would be embarrassing. Okay, bye."

I deleted that one too, so it wouldn't send. I tried again, though, instead of hanging up. "Hi! It's Grace. I'm just calling to—why do I sound like I'm working in customer service right now?"

That one definitely needed to go. I tried to record another one. "Hi, Bucky, I'm calling to see if you're, um, okay. Please let me know. Okay. Bye."

A wave of frustration hit me, and I deleted it. I was about to record again, when—

"Why'd you delete that one? That one sounded fine."

"What the hell, Tony?" I demanded, spinning around to see him sticking his head out of an adjacent room. "You should've told me you were still here. I thought you went to lunch."

"I was going to, and then I thought it would be more painless if you never knew I heard it, and then it just kept happening, and I couldn't listen anymore," he explained. "This is definitely worse for me than it is for you."

"No it's not!" I argued. I ended the voicemail, deleted the newest recording of me and Tony, and hung up. "I'm humiliated right now."

"I'm humiliated for you. Those were terrible. And you're wearing that cardigan."

"I can't believe you won't wear the one I made you," I said. "I came back from the dead to finish making you a cardigan, and you still won't wear it. That's like, against my dying wishes."

"After what I said at your eulogy, do you really think I'm concerned with your dying wishes?"

"Can you give me advice?" I asked. "I want advice."

He wrinkled his nose. "No."

"Don't look at me like that. You're the one who got me and Bucky together. Wanda and Steve take credit, but you know what you did."

"Can I retroactively decide not to do that? It was a real low point for me, decision-wise. A little too mature and forgiving for my taste."

"No, you can't. I know you're a softie now, so I'm asking for advice."

"My advice is to try the new sushi place down the block. Actually, we should go."

"That doesn't apply to the thing I want advice about."

"You want advice about Barnes? I don't know. Don't feed him after midnight? Get better at leaving voicemails?"

"Do you think I was wrong? Ending it?"

"Not my area of expertise. I'm going to get sushi."

"Please?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not the Oracle of the lab. Decide for yourself."

"You are, though. You're soo smart."

"Are you trying to flatter me into telling you what to do? Please don't inflate my ego any bigger than it already is. People are going to start thinking I'm a little full of myself."

"I promise I'll decide for myself. I just want your opinion for research."

"Research," he repeated dryly.

"Science," I clarified.

"Fine. As long as we agree that my opinion isn't affecting your decision, then I'll tell you this: your worry level is way disproportionate to his chances of survival."

"What does that mean? Does that mean I'm, like, in love with him, or just that I have an anxiety problem? Or both?"

He shrugged. "You're having emotions way out of my league, kiddo. I've never thought about anything as hard as you're thinking about this right now. Sushi?"

"Yeah," I agreed dejectedly.

;

Back at my apartment that night, I called Bucky again, just to check. And it rang that time. But he didn't answer, and I didn't even try to leave another stupid voicemail.

So Steve really was wrong. Bucky must've seen missed calls from me, but he didn't call me back. I wondered if he'd seen this most recent one from me as it was ringing, if he'd seen my name light up on the screen and ignored it.

I wrapped myself up in a blanket and sat on my couch, the notebook in my lap again, just like every night this week. I leafed through it idly, then read it all again, slower than I needed to, start to finish, then stared at a random page until my head hurt.

I clicked on my phone again. Nothing from Bucky. I knew it shouldn't hurt on top of the worry. He was supposed to move on. But there was heartbreak at the idea of it, that Steve had been wrong, that he'd ignore my calls.

My eyes flickered over a familiar page. It ached to imagine him not feeling this way one day, moving on and writing down notes about someone else. It ached a lot, actually, the more I thought about it. Then it ached even more to realize I'd made him feel like this.

A jolt of anxiety ran through me at the sound of a couple gentle knocks on my door. They were quiet, but they still felt loud in my otherwise silent apartment.

I clicked my phone on. It was past 1 in the morning. The jolt of anxiety came back to stay for a while. I was too scared to consider why HYDRA would be knocking, rather than breaking in.

I stood up as quietly as I could, tip toeing toward the kitchen, past the door. I was trying to get to the knife block, until I realized with dread that the big sharp one was still in the dishwasher.

I was about to try to ease the dishwasher open (stealthily), or maybe text Nat or Tony or Steve or Wanda or someone, when a tired, distinctly not-HYDRA voice on the other side of the door said, barely loud enough for me to hear, "It's just me, doll. You don't need a knife."

A/N: ✨building tension✨ lol next one will be really soon