Setting: After TWS (not Civil War)
Two months.
It had been two months since the elusive Bucky Barnes had shown up on the staircase of your apartment building days after pulling you from your wrecked car—two months since Bucky Barnes had kissed you—two months since you had even seen him.
"забудь меня (forget me)."
You hiked your duffle bag up over your shoulder and walked along the busy sidewalk, pushing past crowds of people in order to reach your apartment building. Your muscles ached as you walked away from the VA where you'd been taking lessons from experienced fighters; you had signed up for a self-defense class a week after Bucky left. You wished you could say that it wasn't because of what had happened on the bridge, but it had everything to do with that day. You refused to ever need saving again, especially since the last man who saved you ended up disappearing as if he had been erased off of the face of the earth with one of those 'for big mistakes' erasers.
"забудь меня (forget me)."
How could you? How could you forget him? Ironically, those words he had said to you seemed to ever leave; they bounced back and forth in your mind, no sign of escape. You heard him everywhere you went; you were always thinking of him, and it nearly drove you insane. A stranger couldn't have such an affect on you, could they?
Just as you were beginning to cross the street, a biker nearly ran into you, though luckily after the training you'd been doing at the VA had prepared you for similar incidents. However, this wasn't exactly the life or death situation you had taken the class; it helped you nonetheless. You stepped quickly to the side, but the handlebars of the bike managed to rip your duffle from your arms and it fell to the ground. Pursing your lips, you cursed under your breath and knelt down to retrieve it. Upon standing back yo, you caught a glimpse of a figure—a familiar figure.
"Bucky?" You whispered to yourself, narrowing your eyes to get a clearer perspective of the man across the street.
A bus drive by, and you stepped back up onto the sidewalk waiting for it to pass. Once it was no longer obstructing your vision, you looked up and down the sidewalk across from you, only to see a crowd of strangers—none of whom were Bucky Barnes. You stood there for a few more minutes, lingering no farther than ten feet from the spot you'd been standing when you saw him—Bucky. Only some part of you had convinced yourself it was an illusion—a mean trick your mind played on you, because you missed him. It felt silly. . .to miss him, especially when you'd only spoken with him twice. Even a shared kiss couldn't change the fact that you barely knew Bucky. It also, however, could not change the fact that you wished to see him again.
You let out a frustrated sigh as you turned and approached your building; your landlord was standing out front smoking a cigar, his beer gut poking proudly through the holes in the worn material of his shirt. You knew exactly where this confrontation was going and quite frankly, you didn't feel like dealing with his complaints today. So, you shoved your hand in your pocket to pull out the only fifty dollar bill you had on you and neared the man cautiously.
"Miss (Y/L/N), glad to see you're alive." He pulled the cigar out of his mouth, grumbling as he not-so-subtly checked you out.
You made a face of disgust at the middle-aged slob and held out the crumpled up fifty for him, "Take it. It's all I've got this month."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. I told you I needed a hundred and fifty. This isn't even half, sweetheart." He nagged, placing the cigar between his chapped lips again.
You swallowed, hiking the duffle up in your shoulder, and shrugged, "I'll get you your money, Lee. I just need more time."
"That's what they all say," he frowned, shoving the fifty into his dirty pants pocket. "Maybe if you wouldn't blow all of your money on childish games, you wouldn't be in this situation."
"Childish games?" You scoffed, shaking your head, "I told you twice, man. My dad's over in Brinton Woods, and I'm the one who pays his bills while he's there."
Your father had developed a drug addiction over the years since your mother had left, and he had never been able to get himself back on track. It wasn't until you had told him about what happened that day Bucky saved your life that he realized he needed to get his life together. Losing you would leave him all alone, and he knew he was close to it before the incident because of his actions.
"Right, sad dad in rehab. I forgot." He grunted, furrowing his brows at you. "Listen, you're twenty two; you ain't no little kid anymore. I want my money, and I want it now. Up front, or you're moving out—today."
Your eyes widened, "I can get it to you by next week! I prom—"
"No, I've given you weeks to catch up on rent. I'm done with extending deadlines when I could be rentin' your apartment out to someone else for double the price."
"Lee—"
"Give it up, (Y/N). You don't have the money, you don't mean shit to me. Get your stuff and get the hell out by tonight, capiche?" He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall of the building, it's paint chipping off underneath his weight.
You stood idle for a moment before turning and reaching for the door handle, unable to put up a fight. For the most part, he was right. He had given you several weeks to pay up, but there was no way you would've had enough to pay, regardless. Managing your own bills on too of your father's out you in a tough financial situation, and your job as a waitress didn't suffice.
Trudging up your apartment stairs, you wiped a stray tear from your eye. It wasn't like you even liked your apartment; it was small and not at all the palace you'd imagined living in as a child, but after all, it was your home and you didn't have anywhere else to go. You could have gone to your father's house since no one currently resided there, but he lived up in Brooklyn, and there was no way you were leaving you life behind to move there with no job or money.
Pushing open your apartment door, which you never even bothered to lock, you were met with the familiar silence of loneliness. You threw your duffle on the floor, pulled your beanie off, and kicked your shoes off and to the side. The light was dim, and the low buzz of your bedroom lamp in the other room was the only sound audible in the small apartment. Padding down the skinny hallway, you stepped into your bedroom and began to pull your t-shirt off when you felt someone latch onto your right arm from the side.
In this case, the self-defense course came in handy, and you were able to clock the stranger right in the nose. However, their grip on your arm didn't waver and as soon as your eyes met their's, your heart skipped a beat.
"What the h—Bucky?" Your voice was strained from surprise, and upon hearing your voice, he released your arm.
"I know," he breathed out, his flesh arm falling to his side as he took a step back to give you space, "I told you to forget me."
"You—you were across the street when the biker knocked my bag out of my hands." You swallowed, rubbing your arm where he had held it in what felt like a death grip.
"Yes," he nodded, a strand of brunette hair escaping his baseball cap.
"Were you—"
"Following you? Not really." He moved to pick up a photo from your dresser, "But I did hear you arguing with your landlord."
"Oh," you replied, slightly surprised, "All of it?"
"Every word. Your dad is in rehab?" He asked, examining the photograph of you and your mother, taken in the summer of 2000.
"He is," you raised a brow, "but what makes you think you can break into my house and ask me questions?"
"It's not breaking and entering if the door's unlocked, doll." He chuckled lowly, "And if I do recall, you had no problem asking me a dozen questions last time we saw each other."
"Last time we saw each other," you pointed out, "was a few days after you saved my life and then ran off to war."
"God, I didn't save your life. Stop giving me so much credit." Bucky said, setting the photo back down in the dresser.
"Then what would you call it?"
Bucky shrugged, "Saving your life would have been heroic, and I'm no hero, (Y/N)."
The sound of your name coming from him caused your heart to race; for some reason, though he could still be considered a stranger, he was able to make you feel as if you'd known him your whole life.
"Cliché of you, Barnes." You remarked at his 'I'm no hero' speech.
"So, you're getting evicted?" He ignored your sarcastic remark, eyeing your bedroom instead of looking at you.
You stared at him, placing a hand on your hip, "Why'd you come here?"
"I had no place else to go." He admitted, taking his baseball cap off and holding it in his hand by his side.
"Well, if you're seeking refuge, you're out of luck." You sighed, walking over to your closet to pull out your suitcase.
"Because you're getting evicted."
"Yes, Bucky, because I'm getting evicted." You glanced at him over your shoulder as you unzipped the suitcase, watching him mess with items scattered across your dresser.
"Funny, I don't remember you being so hostile the last time I saw you." He returned your glance, only to turn away again, instead watching you from the mirror's reflection.
"Maybe I'm always like this. You wouldn't know, because you kissed me and ditched me." You mumbled under your breath, obviously still annoyed by his actions two months ago.
"I didn't ditch you." Bucky said seriously.
"Yeah, you did, just like my mom did."
He froze in his spot, turning to face you. You continued shoving random items from your room in it, not paying any attention to what you were really doing. Your only goal was to pack up your things before Lee forcefully removed you from your home; however, other things were in your mind, too.
"Forgetting me was in your best interest—is in your best interest." Bucky said, folding his arms over his chest as he watched you pack.
"Is? As in, you're going to tell me the same damn thing for the third time?" You pushed your clothes deep into the suit case before turning to face him, surprised to see him only a few feet away from you.
"I haven't decided yet. Your attitude concerns me."
"Well, I apologize for not being as nice as I was two months ago, but I'm in a whole different situation than I was in then. I have a lot on my mind." You frowned, tapping your fingers nervously on the side of your leg.
"Me, too." Bucky muttered, tilting his head sideways as he looked at you.
"Then I guess we're in the same boat." You sighed.
Bucky nodded, walking so close to you that you could nearly feel his breath. He reached passed you and shut your suitcase before pulling his arm back and standing still, "You can stop packing."
"What? Why?" You questioned him, watching his actions, becoming flustered due to his close proximity.
"Because you're not getting evicted."
"I thought you said you heard the whole argument. I have to be gone by tonight."
Bucky simply shook his head, "I can handle that guy."
"I don't need you to do me any favors." You said seriously, looking up at him.
"Why not?"
"Because you're no hero." You blinked, looking away and then back at him.
A small smirk spread across his face, "Using my own words against me, huh? умная."
"Very." You said amusingly.
"You have no clue what I said, do you?" He chuckled, taking another step towards you.
"Smart?" You tried.
He shook his head, his metal hand moving to cup your cheek.
"умная," he repeated, "means clever."
He leaned in as if to kiss you, but you turned your face in time for him to miss your lips and instead, he kissed your cheek.
"No way in hell am I letting you kiss me again." You scoffed, nearly laughing.
He arched a brow, "And why not?"
"Because last time, you left and disappeared without a trace for two months." You reminded him, his blue eyes studying you intently.
"This won't be like last time, though." He said, tucking your hair behind your ear with his flesh hand.
"And why not?" You asked, partially mocking his words.
Bucky merely smiled and shrugged before bringing your face to his, closing what little space had managed to wedge itself between you. You melted into him, giving into the kiss that you hadn't been able to get out of your mind ever since he'd left.
"Because," he pulled away, needing to catch his breath, "I'm not going anywhere this time."