cuts like a knife

series masterlist

summary: called on another mission with bucky, you insist on being in charge for once. meanwhile, a… little revelation comes to light.

pairing: bucky barnes x agent!female reader

warnings: swearing, humour, fluff , mention of: knives and captivity.

length:2.8k

a/n: a continuation from murder on the dancefloor. written for my 3k celebration, the prompt is bolded. don’t hold the accuracy of the russian against me, i just used google ✌.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

Oh, how you were regretting those words now.

You reluctantly meet Bucky’s gaze from across the room, and the brief rise of his left eyebrow says more than enough.

“I’ll admit I was expecting a better outcome.” You declare, testing the rope that has your wrists bound behind the chair you sit on. However, like the rope tying your ankles to the front legs of the chair, it’s bound tight.

Bucky’s grunt tells you that he knows you were.

He clearly wasn’t.

Unlike you, Bucky’s standing. His arm - singular, because his metal arm was uh… confiscated, is stretched above his head and chainedto the ceiling, while his feet are shackled to the floor.

“Guess it’s time to initiate Plan B.”

Another rise of his eyebrow.

“Okay,Plan D.”

There’s a moment of silence as you both stare at each other, Bucky patiently waiting for you to state the obvious flaw stopping you from initiating said plan.

With a heavy sigh you concede, “Of course Plan D relied on me freeing myself.”

Something that wouldn’tbe happening.

Fuck these assholes for tying good knots.

As much as it pains you to admit it, there’s only one option left.

“So…” You drag out the word, “Any suggestions?”

Bucky’s mouth twitches upwards before he shrugs - as much as he can anyway.

“This is your mission.” He responds.

How he manages to make such a simply spoken sentence sound mocking, you have no idea.

“And I’m asking for your input, it’s called being democratic.” You retort, refusing to just relinquish your “role”to him.

Bucky finally smiles, knowing perfectly well that you won’t admit defeat.

If your lips tilt upwards in response to his smile - your mood lifting with them, it certainly doesn’t mean anything.

“Well,” Bucky begins “You wouldn’t happen to have a knife, would you?”

You scoff, answering without a second thought. “I’m not even wearing underwear.”

“What?”

“What?” You parrot. “I’m behind on my washing.” Feeling defensive, you add “Besides, are you trying to tell me that they managed to find allof your knives?”

Bucky exhales, tilting his head back with a rough mutter of “фокус.”

Not understanding him - of course, you sigh.

It’s gonna be a long day.

[APPROX. 48 HOURS BEFORE CAPTURE]

“I swear the debriefs always take longer than the actual missions.” You call out to Bucky as you’re finally ushered from the small interrogation room.

He’s standing on the opposite side of the busy corridor, arms crossed over his wide chest while his usual frown makes him look as menacing as ever.

You skip over to him.

“How come you’re always done first?” You ask once you’re in front of him, head practically tilted all the way back to meet his dark blue gaze.

A grunt is his only answer, which does more than enough explaining.

Rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, you sigh “They wouldn’t let me keep the dress.”

You don’t know why you still bother asking at this point, all it resulted in was you having to listen to the five minute “government property” speech.

Glancing around the corridor, your eyes lock on a figure striding down the crowded passageway - heading straight for you.

Looking back up at Bucky, you groan “Here comes my favourite person in the whole wide world.”

Your supervisor.

“I just got word you were back.” Ian states in his annoying tone once he’s near, side-eyeing Bucky as he comes to a stop on your right.

He doesn’t acknowledge the man, like most he’s too scared to.

Turning to face Ian, you only just manage to grab the thick folder he shoves towards you before he quickly lets go of it.

“You need to write up this report.”

Flicking the folder open, you take in its contents, unsurprised to see it’s his owndamn mission.

“Have it on my desk tomorrow morning, eight a.m.”

Before you can say anything he’s slipping away, easily lost in the sea of suits.

Not that he’d ever listen to anything I have to say.

“Fucking hell,” You mutter, looking back down at the open folder. “It’s a week long mission, this is gonna take me all night.”

Then you had to write up your ownreport.

“Your new supervisor.” Bucky surmises, drawing your gaze.

“Yep,” Popping the p, you close the folder. “He’s just the best.”

Bucky hums, eyes focused somewhere down the corridor.

“Agent Y/L/N, Sergeant Barnes.” The voice of the woman who’d been in charge of your debrief calls out from across the hallway. “You’re both free to go, reports are due tomorrow at five p.m.”

Hallelujah.

You could leave your own report for tomorrow and just focus on writing up Ian’s tonight.

“Well,” Turning back to face Bucky, you smile “See ya.”

Bucky’s arms uncross as he takes a step to his right, and he offers you a single wave of his hand before walking away.

[APPROX. 29 HOURS BEFORE CAPTURE]

“Here’s your report.” You pant, out of breath after having to run from the elevator. “I -”

“Thank you.” Ian interrupts, taking the report out of your hands.

“You’re welcome, I - excuse me?”

Did he just thankme?

“I said thank you.” Ian repeats, confirming that your sleep-deprived mind hadn’t imagined the words. “And I’m sorry for giving you such a short deadline.”

You’re so stunned, the only thing you can do is blink.

“It won’t happen again.” Ian smiles.

Does he always look so nervous when he smiles?

You realise you can’t be sure because you’ve neverseen him smile.

“I’ll be handling my own reports from now on Agent.” Ian informs you, still smiling as he steps around you and darts from the room.

Seeing how you’re standing in hisoffice, you have no idea where he’s rushing off too.

“What the hell just happened?” You mumble to yourself, walking to your desk in a daze.

[APPROX. 19 HOURS BEFORE CAPTURE]

“I think there’s something wrong with my supervisor.”

You put your phone on speaker before placing it on the kitchen bench so you can start making dinner.

“He was niceto me today, like saint-like nice, andhe told me I don’t have to do his reports anymore.”

Bucky hums - the most input he ever really offers during your phone calls.

“I’m very concerned here Bucky,” You state seriously. “What if he’s been replaced by a Russian android to learn our government’s secrets.”

There’s a sputtering sound on the other end of the line as Bucky seems to choke on something - a drink you think.

“Did you just laugh?” You realise with wide eyes, unbelieving. “Bucky, did I just make you laugh?”

Falling serious again, you ask “Have youbeen replaced by a Russian android?”

You hear it for the first time then, clear as day.

Buckylaughs.

It’s brief and quiet, but a sweet sound nonetheless. You find yourself wishing to hear it in person.

“You’re an idiot.”

His words fall on deaf ears as you stand in your kitchen with your right hand pressed over your heart, focusing on the unfamiliar warmth that’s settled in your chest.

“маленькая птица?”

“Oh,” You give a soft laugh as you snap out of your trance. “Sorry, I got a little distracted.”

[MORNING OF CAPTURE]

“We’re in high demand.”

The two of you haven’t worked two missions so close together since you were first paired up nearly a year ago.

You got the call only an hour after hanging up with Bucky. Thankfully the rendezvous wasn’t until seven this morning, letting you get somesleep.

On the downside your apartment wasn’t doing too great.

It hadn’t been in the best condition when you left for the last mission due to your long work hours - courtesy of Ian, and you hadn’t had a chance to tackle the task since returning because you had reports to write up - alsocourtesy of Ian.

Bucky’s currently looking over the information packet you’d been given before boarding the cargo plane.

“Looks like this one will actually require some strategy.” You say, glancing at the documents you had read first.

Humming, Bucky answers “I’ve got a plan.”

You frown at him, but he’s too busy reading to notice.

“How come we always have to do what you say?”

Slowly, Bucky’s gaze shifts over to you, his silence telling you to go on.

“You always come up with the plans,” You elaborate.

What am I doing?

Bucky raises an eyebrow, no doubt asking himself the same question.

“Iwant to come up with the plan for once.”

[PRESENT]

Dropping his head to meet your gaze again, Bucky states “Of course they didn’t, but I can’t hand one to you.”

Good point.

“Hang on,” You mumble, shuffling in your seat.

Pulling against your ropes, you use all of your strength to throw yourself up and forwards, manoeuvring the chair towards Bucky by an inch.

You look up at him with an ‘a-ha!’expression.

“Right leg.” Is all he says.

It takes more time and energy than you had predicted, but eventuallyyou end up beside Bucky’s right leg, staring at the numerous pockets on his tactical pants.

“Near my knee.” He helpfully supplies.

“This one?” You ask, leaning forward to bump the pocket with your nose.

“Yes, the knife is in the lining.”

“Okay.” You look up at him, he looks down at you. “This is gonna be weird.”

Bucky hums as if to say it already is.

Shuffling your chair once more, until the back of it is pressed against Bucky’s leg, you use what little slack you have to grab at his leg, below his knee.

“Directions please.”

“трахни меня,” Bucky mutters. “Higher, to your left.”

Wincing as the rope digs into your wrists, you find the pocket and pull the zipper open. Sticking your fingers inside, you feel along the lining for a knife, smiling when you find it.

If you thought moving your chair took a while, this takes an eternity. 

Sweat beads along your hairline as you fumble to push out the knife, the task putting you at your wits end. 

You’re about to scream in frustration when the knife finally falls into your palm.

Sighing loudly in relief, your head falls back while your shoulders sag, releasing some of the tension you’ve built up over the hour. Your arms have never ached so bad.

“Good girl,” Bucky encourages. “Now cut your ropes.”

You almost drop the knife.

Flicking the blade out, you place it against the rope tying your wrists and start slicing. 

It’s an awkward angle but you force your hands to hold the position, fighting through the burn as you slowly cut through your binds.

When you feel the rope start to loosen you’re given renewed strength.

You gasp happily when your hands fall apart. Turning your head to look up at Bucky, you hold up your freed hands with a wide grin.

He gives a small smile in return, shaking his head before gesturing to the ropes around your ankles.

Bending eagerly, you cut through the rope.

Only your left ankle is free when the steel door slams open.

You straighten, raising the knife in defence, only to lower it with a frown.

Steve Rogers strolls into the room, followed by Natasha Romanoff and Sam Wilson.

“Nice to see you again Y/N,” Steve greets, nodding at you with a smile.

Instead of responding, you turn to Bucky for an explanation.

“I told them where to find us if I missed a check-in.” He reveals openly.

You glare at him, but can’t even find it within yourself to be mad - maybe just a little miffed.

“We got your stuff.” Steve adds cheerfully, drawing your attention back to the trio.

Nat holds up her hands which are full of knives - notyours, while Sam lifts up Bucky’s metal arm in one hand and in the other -

Oh boy.

“By the way, we love your lockscreen Y/N.” Sam grins, raising your phone and turning the screen on for Bucky and you to see.

“Orange looks great on you Buck.” Nat smirks.

A picture of Bucky in his orange suit that you sneakily took on your last mission illuminates the dark room.

Biting your bottom lip, you’re thankful that you’re not facing Bucky.

It doesn’t stop you from feeling his eyes as they bore into you.

“маленькая птица,” Bucky mutters when you start cutting through the rope around your right ankle, trying to get you to look at him.

Steve steps up to Bucky and begins removing his chains.

“маленькая птица?” Nat repeats, gaining your attention. “как милый.” She smirks.

“You speak Russian,” You realise excitedly. “What did he say?”

“не смей.” Bucky says roughly, his chains hitting the floor loudly as Steve frees him.

“почему ты так ее называешь?” Nat responds, tilting her chin up slightly - like she’s challenging him.

“не ваше дело.”

It’s like watching a tennis match, your head - along with Steve and Sam’s, bouncing between Nat and Bucky as they… argue?

“хорошо, тогда я скажу ей.” Nat grins, looking at you.

“ждать,” Bucky utters sharply before sighing. “потому что она никогда не перестает говорить.”

Nat raises an eyebrow, clearly waiting for something else.

Bucky sighs again “и она маленькая.”

Another eyebrow raise.

Another sigh.

“и…милый.”

Nat hums, nodding slowly. “Я не думаю, что милый - это точное слово, которое вы имели в виду, но оно подойдет.”

When it becomes clear that you won’t be learning any Russian today, you finish cutting through your last rope.

“I’ve never heard him talk so much at once.” You declare to Steve who offers you a hand as you stand.

Sam scoffs, walking over. “Those two are always jabbering on in Russian, it’s the only time he does sufficient speaking.”

“You don’t speak Russian?” You ask Steve.

He shakes his head. “I know a little, but they talk too fast anyway, I keep meaning to learn.”

Yeah, you and me both.

“I thought you were retired.” You say instead, looking at Sam in his Captain America outfit - who of course gives you a wink when he catches your eye.

“I am,” Steve grins. “But it’s good to get out of the house every once in a while.”

[THE NEXT AFTERNOON]

Unlocking your apartment door, you push it open with your hip, mindful of the bags in your hands that you deposit on the kitchen bench before returning to the front door to shut and lock it.

Walking back into the kitchen, you look around with a smile. You’d spent all morning deep cleaning your apartment, completing every possible chore - your washing being one of them.

You’re happily wearing underwear again.

Before you can begin unpacking your groceries there’s a knock on your front door.

Frowning, you step back over to the door and peer through the peephole to see a woman in a green apron on the other side.

Opening the door, you offer a curious “Hello?”

“Hi!” The woman enthusiastically greets. “Are you Y/N?”

You nod, “That’s me.”

She bends down and that’s when you notice what she’s brought with her - what she’s delivering.

“These are for you.” She smiles.

You grab the handle of the large willow basket that’s overflowingwith flowers of various colours and sizes. It’s seriously the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, let alone been given.

“Wow,” You can’t help but breathe the word out.

“Right?” The woman eagerly agrees. “I had so much fun putting it together, I’ve never had an order like it.”

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.” You smile.

“Oh please,” She waves her hand with a bashful expression “Thank the lovely person who ordered it for you.”

With that she bids you a good afternoon which you return, closing the front door.

Still admiring the flowers, you float into your small lounge room and take a seat, setting the basket on your lap.

You pull out the envelope placed amongst the flowers and open it, revealing a folded up piece of paper inside.

Unfolding it, you find handwritten instructions on how to take care of the flowers - where you should place them in the apartment, what you should put in their water, and when to refresh it. There’s a whole list of tips and tricks, all written in beautiful cursive handwriting. Then, at the bottom of the note -

They might not last as long as your plants did, but certainly longer than a fish would’ve. Just make sure to follow MY plan.

You can’t help but giggle, hand falling to your heart as you re-read the note before looking at the flowers once again.

Warmth bursts throughout your chest - burning almost, in the most pleasant way, just like when you were on the phone with Bucky and he laughed.

That’s when it hits you.

You’re in love.