High Times
Summary: Bucky asks about the way you deal with stress and insomnia. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (platonic) Word Count: 3035 Warnings: Fluff, language, minor angst, drug use (weed), Bucky being adorable, so much fluff A/N: Since a lot of the stigma around marijuana has vanished over the last 10 years, it really made me wonder how men out of their time, like Bucky and Steve, would react to it being legalized. Curiosity really seems like a Bucky trait, especially with how much he’s missed out on, and it’s my own personal hope that if he ever has a chance to partake, it would help him sleep or relieve any pain he has. I’m recovering from surgery myself, so I was quite high while writing some of this lol. This was beta’d by the lovely @saxxxology. Enjoy!
The unexpected knock on your door is timid, yet forceful, and you know exactly who it is before he speaks. Not unlike the way he knocks, Bucky’s always been quiet and shy around most of the other Avengers, but if something comes up that he’s passionate about, he makes sure his opinion is voiced. That being said, you know what time period he hails from, and you quickly stub out the blunt you’re smoking, exhale out of the open window before closing it, and tuck your box of goodies back under your bed.
“Come in.”
The door opens and a mop of unruly dark hair appears around the edge of the door. Bucky’s tired blue eyes meet yours and he smiles before slipping into your room, shutting the door behind him. He doesn’t say anything, but you see his nose twitch at the pungent smell that is likely still swirling around your room. The serum running through his veins heightens his sense of smell, so even though you can barely detect the odor, you know he must be able to discern it clear as day. Even though it’s legal, you’re nervous at his reaction, but you ignore your anxiety and raise one of your eyebrows, silently asking what he wants.
“Hey, umm, I wanted to know if you were going to be doing yoga tomorrow morning?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at the fidgety and shifty behavior you are failing miserably at hiding. “Are you okay?”
“M’fine, Buck,” you chirp, willing your body to fight the lethargy clawing its way up your body. “I’ll be out on the terrace at around seven. Were you wanting to join me?”