Making Up For Lost Time - [James Barnes x Male OC]

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Hi everyone! I have a few projects going on alongside this story! Would a Clint Barton ex-wife fanfic be to your taste? Maybe a little brother to Mafia men story? Or a Hydra experiment joining the avengers fanfic? I'm working on those, so let me know which one you want to see most!

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Bucky's Point Of View

It's been five weeks since I got back to work, and I haven't gotten to see him at all.

I check my phone every 30 seconds, I can't get a full nights sleep, I'm constantly worrying about his safety, I beg Fury almost twice a day to transfer him to the compound-- I feel like I'm going insane.

"Bucky, stop it! He's busy! He can't text you back every 5 seconds!" Clint scolded for the 800th time today, using a tone he uses with his children.

"But..!" I paused, and looked at him as he took my phone from me with sad, begging eyes.

"No. He's busy, Bucky. You can talk to him when he's finished with his business trip." Clint reasoned, and I whimpered quietly, hugging my knees to my chest.

Steve gave me a sympathetic smile, patting my shoulder from the seat on the couch next to me. "It's alright, Buck. You'll see him again before you know it."

I groaned, wanting nothing more than to leave and go find him.

"What if he's hurt? What if he's dying and I'm over here doing nothing?!?" I raved, all of them rolling their eyes except for Steve, who just chuckled.

"I'm sure he's fine, Buck. He's a Shield agent. Have some faith in his skill set."

I nodded, my leg bobbing up and down as the weight of me not being able to check my phone settled in.

I just wanna know if he's ok! What's wrong with that?

I gave Clint a pleading, desperate look, but he shook his head 'no' and went back to sharpening his arrows.

I gave up trying after that, and went to my room to take a nap, stomping up the stairs and slamming my door closed like a child throwing a tantrum.

If I had to be childish to get my phone back, I would become a fucking infant.

As I laid down for my nap, I pulled a mountain of blankets over me, and curled up into a ball, snuggling my face into my pillow, which had one of his sweatshirts for a pillow case.

Before I fell asleep, I inhaled deeply, taking in as much of what was left of his sent as possible, going into a dreamless sleep with the safety of knowing I had his sweatshirt for comfort.

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I woke up around dinner time, but didn't leave my bed until it was late at night.

Why? Because I didn't want to eat with everyone, and if I left my room, they'd all try to tell me to cheer up and that he'd be back before I noticed; which, news flash, I noticed.

I slowly got out of bed a few hours later after I checked the time-- 3 am-- and kept silent as I walked into the kitchen.

I opened the fridge, and took out my left over mac and cheese from lunch yesterday, heating it up in the microwave, just how Clint taught me to.

Press the cook button, then the one button, then the 0 button twice, and then press the start button.

The microwave started up, and I went to get myself a cup of water, looking at all of the glasses, before I opted for the plastic blue cup I got when Steve took me to the store a few days ago.

He saw me looking at it for a while, and said if I wanted it, I could 'just ask'.

I liked the blue cup; it had pink polka-dots on it, and even had a lid and straw.

Yes, this cup was from the children's section on the store, and labeled '6+' for it's age.

I sat down with my food and water when the microwave beeped, and began eating.

"You ok?"

I glanced up from my food, and saw Wanda and Nat, standing in the doorway.

"We were watching a movie. You wanna join in?" Nat continued, but I shook my head, pushing the noodles around the bowl.

"You know, It's ok to miss someone." Wanda said casually, opening the fridge and taking out a bottle of juice.

"I know that." I muttered, stabbing my food with my fork.

"Then why don't you just say that you miss Stefan?" Nat asked, the two of them sitting on either side of me, their eyes burning into the sides of my head.

I thought for a minute, staring at my mac and cheese.

I got up and threw it away, eating what's left of the pizza from tonight; I couldn't look at the mac and cheese, and I don't know why. I just couldn't.

They patiently waited for an answer, and I avoided their eyes.

"Because-..." I hesitated, but shook my head, as if I could shake the penetrating, mean thoughts away from my mind.

"Because, if I say I miss him, then that means he's really gone."

They both nodded, and we sat in silence for a while.

And then the first one fell, hot, salty and wet; it hit my hand when I tried to take another bite.

So much for not missing him, huh?

Dammit.