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A/N: if you haven't heard this song, you should really check it out. It's the basis for this imagine but you don't have to know it to understand (although I'd recommend giving it a listen-- it's really good).

ALSO I SAW RAGNAROK!!! It was soooo good you guys!! Hilarious and perfect every single second. Even my angsty sister who doesn't like anything (especially my favorite movies) liked it. 10/10 would recommend.

-SL2627

Yeah, I'd rather be a lover than a fighter

'Cause all my life, I've been fighting

Bucky Barnes' hands, the calloused and metal one both stiff and unforgiving, grip onto the steering wheel harder. The radio plays the chart toppers into the car where mostly everyone is silent. The melody as it starts up is the loudest thing: beckoning for Bucky's attention with its eerily symbolic words.

Never felt a feeling of comfort

All this time, I've been hiding

His sapphire blue eyes are locked ahead of the moving vehicle to the dreary road. Rain splatters on the windshield and runs out of the path of the slow moving wipers. Bucky takes a deep breath as he listens to the song: wondering if he's the only one in the car that's paying attention to it so carefully.

And I never had someone to call my own, oh nah

I'm so used to sharing

Bucky risks a glance at you. You're sitting next to him in the passenger seat—tongue sticking slightly out of your mouth as you finish a round of some word game on your phone that Wanda challenged you to from the back seat. Bucky watches you there until you catch his stare. You blink a few times before grinning—cheeks revealing lines that travel up to your eyes and make his heart skip a beat. Bucky clears his throat, pretending not to care, and quickly looks back to the road. His pulse is rapid as he realizes how badly he wants to look back at you.

Love only left me alone

But I'm at one with the silence

He doesn't say anything—afraid to. He stays silent, unable to start the converstation with you that he longs for, and pretends to not care when you start humming along.

I found peace in your violence

Can't tell me there's no point in trying

I'm at one, and I've been quiet for too long

You know this song: it's rather good. Sort of eerie and pretty at once. Quietly you breathe the melody to yourself between quick peeks up at Bucky as he drives. His stoic, straight lipped expression somehow soothes you into forgetting about the rainstorm or the botched publicity meeting you're driving away from. You can't help but think of Bucky as the chorus repeats.

I found peace in your violence

Can't tell me there's no point in trying

I'm at one, and I've been quiet for too long

Bucky puts a little bit of pressure on the brake as the rain comes down harder. It blurs everything in sight: leaving only red and white lights illuminating the dark highway. He takes a hard swallow.

"Everything okay, Buck?" you dotingly ask of the soldier.

In the background, the music still plays:

I'm in need of a savior, but I'm not asking for favors

"Yeah. Yeah, Y/N. I'm okay."

My whole life, I've felt like a burden

I think too much, and I hate it

He forces himself to shoot you a quick, reassuring smile. He wouldn't dare admit that he's thinking about you and how strongly he feels for you now—that's what's bringing about this odd, tight look on his usually blank face.

"Okay." You don't seem convinced, but you let him off the hook. It's not like you're super close. Sure—you'd consider yourself friends, but would he?

I'm so used to being in the wrong, I'm tired of caring

Loving never gave me a home, so I'll sit here in the silence

Bucky sighs. Stupid song giving him all these strange, introspective thoughts. He's never paid much attention to music, especially the trendy stuff. But for some reason this one is really plucking a chord within him. When the upbeat tune takes over and the words start repeating he's finally free to breathe a deep breath.

Traffic comes to a stop. A couple of groans sound from the backseat—probably Clint and Sam, Bucky thinks with an eye roll. You only sit up higher in her seat to assess the cause a few miles ahead. Your eyes narrow on the sight of the road and Bucky's open up slightly wider on the sight of you.

"There's an accident," you let out the revelation in one quick breath. You scramble to unbuckle the seatbelt.

Bucky's quick to latch his hand over yours as it attempts to open the door. "What are you doing?"

"Helping," you tell him. You shrug his hand away. "You can come or not—but I'm going to see what I can do." With that final word to everyone in the car you jump out into the storm.

Wanda tries to follow. "Nuh uh." Clint redirects the teen into her seat. "Stay here with Sam. We're gonna need someone to keep the car running. Bring it over close as soon as the chaos clears. And call 911." Then Clint's following you out onto the highway.

Bucky puts the car into park then he's out in the rain as well. Immediately he's sopping wet with curtains of soggy brown hair blocking bits of important vision. He pushes away the mop amidst a hard jog towards the wreck—seeing you in your soft blue sweater running a few yards ahead of him.

You make it to the scene only a moment before Bucky. Clint's there first with his eyes scouring the mess. A car has been flipped up on its top with another slid off the road into a muddy ditch.

Clint drops onto his knees to try and see if anyone is still alive inside the flipped Volkswagen. He shouts out, rain cascading down his face, for some of the other bystanders to help him. Two or three men lunge out of their cars to help.

You make your way to the car that smokes and steams from down in the ditch. Kicking off your heels you try to slowly slide down the muddy slope. But the steepness gets the better of you and you're slipping before you can stop yourself. Luckily, Bucky's been lingering just behind and reaches out to grab your hand with his. You latch onto his metal bicep as he drags you back up.

"Thanks," you quickly glance up at his face. He nods—rainwater soaking all of his clothes and clinging onto his muscular, firm body. "We need to get down there."

"Get on your ass and slide. You'll break your ankle if you try it your way." Bucky grabs your wrist and tugs you down towards the slope where he's in the position to sit and slide. You nod and do as he says. Successfully you end up at the bottom of the slope, but not without the consequences of mud in your skinny jeans and coldness seeping into your bones.

Bucky runs up to the driver's side seat. You check the back for any signs of life. There's nothing back there but scattered groceries bags.

"Clear back here," you call out loud enough for Bucky to hear. You start jogging around to join him in helping the driver. But as you round the front of the BMW, Bucky is standing up from his crouched position with his eyes on you. You try to come closer but he stops you with both hands on your shoulders.

"Don't look," Bucky advises you. You're taken aback by the gentleness of his voice. You blink up at him—finding that he's already expecting the worst out of a reaction from you. You're still not good at this whole "win some, lose some" mentality that the other Avengers have. Every single death hits you hard and close: Bucky knows this. His hands gripping your shoulders keep you still while his body prevents you from seeing beyond his wide frame.

You can't bring yourself to say anything. You just nod until the rain starts stinging your eyes and making your sweater droop down too low.

"Come on," Bucky leads you back towards the slope. When you try to glance back behind once, Bucky is there making sure you don't see the mangled body of the young woman in the front seat—the one with the small baby-bump bashed in by the steering wheel. Bucky doesn't want you to see that: he wants to protect you from it. It would crush your poor little heart.

Sam's up at the top of the slope. It looks like he decided to join. He sees you and reaches out a hand to help pull you up. Being too short and the slope much, much too tall Bucky has to lift you up in order for you to be reached. His hand pushes hard on your ass to propel you up enough for Sam to get a hold of your hand. Tugging you up, you roll onto the road with a grunt. Pavement scrapes your arms and knees through your sopping clothes.  The rain makes it hard to hear, but the sound of sirens nearing is still loud. They struggle to make it through the traffic but they're coming nonetheless.

Clint's talking slowly to someone still in the front seat of the car up above. He gives you a subtle nod over his shoulder, meaning everything's okay up here. You let out a sigh and thank god that at least one survived.

Eventually the first responders make it to the scene. Bucky makes a point to keep you away from the extraction of the woman below. You know it must be bad with as adamant Bucky is about diverting your attention elsewhere. You're grateful for him as he tells you to turn around. And he's grateful for the lightheaded feeling he gets when you reach out to grip onto his hand—desperate to hold him somehow.

Traffic's moving slowly so Wanda and Sam get to drive away. They offer to take you, too, but you want to stay until everyone's safe. Clint climbs into the first ambulance with the toppled man. Two of the police officers recognized you and Bucky as Avengers and offer to give you a lift back to the tower. Grateful, wet, and tired you agree.

In the back seat of the patrol car you sit in the silence. You stare up at the ceiling while Bucky slides in next to you after a minute—having been answering questions outside about what he'd seen of the crash. The officers follow and then put the rig into drive.

"She was pregnant."

Bucky's eyes widen at your soft spoken words. Quickly he glances to where you sit staring out the window at the rain.

"What?" he tries to play dumb.

You breathe deeply. "The woman," you explain the conclusion you've drawn in the past few minutes. You turn your head towards Bucky as you go on. "It was a woman who died, and she was pregnant." You pause. "Wasn't it?"

Bucky's blue eyes dart over your sad little face and how you shiver. Slowly he nods. He can't lie to you—not now, not ever.

"How'd you know?" he asks.

"I saw her purse in the backseat." You stare down at your lap. "And she'd been grocery shopping. I saw prenatal smoothie powders and diapers. She was already buying diapers..." Your eyes start to water and you curse yourself—angrily wiping away any traces of tears.

"Hey, hey," Bucky tuts. Immediately his arms reach out for you—startling even himself as he goes to embrace you. The man pulls you to his chest and lets your head rest in the crook of his sweet smelling neck. "It's okay. It's okay, Y/N."

"It's not." You sniffle and shake your head. "How am I supposed to do this job if I can't—if I can't handle this?"

Bucky's metal fingers soothingly start smoothing down your hair. He doesn't know what to say for a minute. Then, eventually, he reveals, "You have a big heart. And your heart is exactly why you have this job, Y/N. You're the best at what you do because you care. Who was the first person to race out of the car to help those people?" he doesn't wait for your answer. "You were." He pulls back enough so that he can smile softly at you. "Because you're selfless. You care a lot. So it's okay to cry."

You don't exactly know how to reply, so you choose not to. Instead, you opt to sit in the silence: letting the relaxing nothingness in Bucky's warm arms that tighten around you with each moment that passes. His cheek turns to rest atop your head and he lets out a long sigh: both loving and hating the silence. He's been quiet for so long, it should be comfortable. But now? Now all he wants to do is tell you that everything is going to be okay.... To ramble on and on about how amazing he thinks you are and how your sweet, caring nature is the thing he loves most about you.

The cops have flipped on the radio to try to give the two ride-alongs in the back seat some privacy. Bucky finds himself closing his eyes and holding you tighter when the song registers in his ears:

I'm in need of a savior, but I'm not asking for favors

My whole life, I've felt like a burden

I think too much, and I hate it

I'm so used to being in the wrong, I'm tired of caring

Loving never gave me a home, so I'll sit here in the silence.