postscript. [bucky barnes x reader]

1934 - September 9, 1943

A/N: hey guys! worth mentioning that i haven't watched anything marvel for years so my timeline as far as marvel canon events is screwy! the timeline im working with is based on the actual historical events of ww2 and the normandy invasions. even so, you'll have to forgive my gratuitous use of armed divisions that wouldn't have interacted with the 107th. im just being a silly goose 🪿

that said, updates should be semi-regular. this one just ended up being too long to put in the marvel book lol. enjoy!

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You understand that 1934 hasn't been an easy year for anyone. Heck, the past five years haven't been easy on anyone, but it doesn't excuse not putting in a little effort every now and then. Not everyone can get by on clownery the way that James Barnes does. The school's Christmas break is closing in on you with a vengeance, and you've got one last chance to get your history grade up from a B to an A minus. This group project is the breaking point. If you don't get an A flat on this project, there's no point in trying on the final.

And James Barnes.

James Barnes thinks he's a comedian. If he contributes anything at all to your group, it's a half-researched, common-knowledge quip here and there. Then he leans back and expects the world to congratulate him for putting in less than the minimum effort. He's driving you up a wall.

When the day comes for you to get your grade back, you can sort of see the red marker bleeding through the back of the page, and your stomach drops. Your frustration must be evident when you meet up with your group because James snatches your rubric out of your hand and reads it aloud to the whole class. "It's a B plus," he says. "It's a good grade. Heck, I know it kicks my grade up, anyway. You ought to just calm down about it, sweetheart."

You've never socked anyone across the jaw before, so there's no way you could've known how much it would ache in the bones of your hand. Oh, but it does ache when you do it, quick as a whip. Even you didn't really see it coming. 

James sputters as he holds his jaw and looks down at you in shock. "Hey, what—?" he starts.

And as much as your hand hurts, you're already raring to go for another one because he darn well deserves it. After the next one, he sees you gearing up for a third and dodges so violently that he falls over, and in a second you're railing on him seeing only red.

The next thing you know, you're seated in the principal's office next to James Barnes, cradling your sore hand and wondering what your parents are gonna say.

James clears his throat and starts to speak because, apparently, you can't catch a break. "Now that I've had time to think," he says, "I've decided to admit that I'm wrong and you're right. I'm sorry, and let's be friends, okay?"

He extends his hand for you to shake, and you only stare at it. "You're just saying that because I handed your rear end to you."

"Only half right," he corrects you. "I'm also thinking that if we can get together and let the bigwigs know that we've gotten over our grievances on our own, they'll let us off with a light sentence."

"Oh, so you don't actually think you ought to be sorry at all," you decide, turning away from him again.

"Well, I'm not gonna go around throwing punches about it," James grumbles.

The door to the principal's office slams shut and you hear him talking to the secretary, sending a spike of panic right through your middle. "Fine," you sigh, having run out of options. "Let's be friends, James."