Bucky Barnes Random One Shots

Fireworks

"Alright everybody! If you would just step out onto the balcony please and the show will begin!" Tony Stark shouted over the noise of the party and started herding the crowd outside.
You took your boyfriend Bucky's real hand and gave it an excited squeeze as you started to shuffle outside. When he didn't squeeze back you turned around and flashed him a huge smile only to have a half hearted, rather nervous looking one.
"Buck are you okay?" You asked him, taking a sip from your wine glass. "Aren't you excited to see the fireworks?"
"Ah, yeah. Yeah I am." He smiled softly but you could still tell something was off.

Out on the balcony, the way he was tugging your hand back when you tried to go to the front of the crowd suggested to you to just hang near the back with him. You would still get a good view from hear. He slung his right arm around your shoulder which you grabbed with your right hand and leaned casually back against the glass panelling of the sliding door. You gave him a reassuring grin. You didn't know what was up with him, his body language was casual and calm but his face looked uptight and nervous.

Just then your thoughts were interrupted by the first loud bang and you watched in awe as a shower of golden sparkles erupted into the night sky. A series of ohhs and ahhs and gasps eminated from the crowd but you could only take notice of how stiff Bucky went beside you. He retracted his arm and instead held onto your left one, his hand shaking slightly in yours. You rubbed his forearm comfortingly as the next round of shrieks and pops went off and lines of neon colours went fizzing into the sky.
"Ahhh." Bucky mumbled as he ran his metal hand through his hair. "I just remembered, I gotta go do something." And just like that he slipped away from your side and back into the house through the door which you took note that he had deliberately stood right beside.
You watched concerned as you saw him disappear down the hall and decided to follow him to where you knew would be his room.

Before you even entered you could hear the clattering he was making and when you walked in you watched as he seemed to be searching for something, although nothing in particular on his desk. All of a sudden he stopped what he was doing and gripped onto the edges before he started to shake like a Chihuahua.
"Is there something you'd like to tell me?" You announced your presence, slightly amused at what you could only assume.
When he whipped around to see you his face didn't show shock, but utter distress.
"N-no?" He stuttered.
"Aww." You cooed answering for yourself. "Is the big super soldier scared of the fireworks?"
"No! Yes! I-I don't know? I never used to be!" He huffed, clearly upset as he ran his hand through his hair again and started to pace back and forth a bit.

Suddenly something clicked for you and you became serious as a shiver ran down your spine.
"It's the sound isn't it?" You say darkly. "The banging? It sounds like gun shots?"
He nods at you stiffly.
A pang shoots through your chest. His PTSD runs a lot deeper than you thought.
"Aw, Buck." You sighed sadly and kicked off your heals before sliding under the covers of his bed. "Come here." You smiled softly and held up the duvet, patting the spot beside you.
Obediently he did so and without even telling him to do so he snuggled his head down into your lap and hugged your legs tightly. That's how you knew he was really scared. You pulled the blankets up to his chin and started to run your fingers through his long, soft hair.
"Do you want to talk about it?" You whispered.
He gripped onto you a little tighter and you heard the russle of the covers as he shook his head in response. He was still shaking violently, but not crying.
"Not yet, just distract me. Tell me your good memories of fireworks and then maybe I'll be ready to talk about it." He mumbled.
You leant down and kissed his head. If this is how he managed to cope then you would help him. You leant back against the head board and sighed in thought as you tried to remember your favourite memories of guyfawks.
"I remember when I was just a kid." You started, still massaging Bucky's scalp. "Probably only about 9, 10, 11. We used to go to a family friends house and do a barbeque on guyfawks night. It was my favourite thing. They had a little girl my age who was my best friend. The whole evening was just the best. It was different to our other barbeques. There was something to look forward to at the end of the night. The fireworks show. Plus, for the two of us it meant that we got to stay up extra late to watch. Each family would bring along a box and my friend and I would make a fort out of deck chairs that we would hide behind to watch."
"Why did you hide?" Bucky interrupted, worry laced in his voice.
You gently ran your fingers down his cheek and he leant into your touch.
"Because that was the fun of it." You sighed. "The best part. Not because we were scared though. Anyway, we would sit there and try to stay awake as our fathers failed to successfully light the first few. But once they got them going it was fantastic. The multiple colours lighting up the darkness, the echoing of neighboroughing houses letting off fireworks too. By the end of the big ones we would have sparklers to dance around and right our names with. Those were my favourite."
"Sparklers? What are sparklers?" Bucky asked intrigued.
"These little sticks that you hold but its like a baby fire work on the end that doesn't burn you." You explain.
"That sounds fun." He smiles absentmindedly and snuggles deeper into your lap.
"They are. And once they ran out we would always manage to convince our parents to let us have a sleep over, which of course for a kid is the most exciting thing ever." You finished contently.
"I can only imagine." Bucky sighed. "That sounds amazing Kelly."
"It was. Now do you have any childhood memories of fireworks to tell me?" You ask him cautiously.

He frowns in thought as he sits up and rests his head against your shoulder, lacing your fingers together but he doesn't protest. You also notice that he's stopped shaking.
"I think." He starts, his voice entwined with concentration. "If I remember rightly, the townspeople used to organise one little show that was free for all of us to go watch. Sometimes I got to watch the whole thing but other times I ended up having to take Steve home because the excitement caused him to have an asthma attack."
You couldn't help but laugh a little at that last part. His explanation was brief but you commended him for trying, its not his fault he can't remember.
"Sounds, nice." You state.
"Well it wasn't the most enjoyable thing, but I never found it scary, just a little boring because to be honest it was quite a pathetic show. None of us could afford to go to the main event so we had to settle for that." He shrugged.
You nod, your cheek resting against the top of his head.
"But now." He continues, a lot less relaxed. "Now, I don't know. I haven't seen them in so long and when that first bang went off all I could think about was gunshots. Shots from the war, the fireworks reminded me of the flares we shot up into the sky when we were in trouble." He paused a little bit, starting to shake again.
"Buck." You sighed and ran your thumb across the back of his palm. "You don't have to do this." You knew what was coming next.
"And shots from my gun when I fired it at all those innocent people, killing them all." He said anyway.
You waited for the trembling and crying to start but surprisingly it never did. You were proud of him.
"Well." You said simply. "If fireworks aren't your thing, then that's okay. We can just stay here and snuggle."
He looked up at you with a cheeky grin  before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you down beside him.