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You knew that this was coming weeks ago. You felt the slight shift in your moods, and immediately started doing everything you could to stave off the pit. You had gone running with Steve and Sam, shopping with Nat and Wanda, and even sat with Bruce and Tony while they talked science. You kept your days packed tightly with socializations and working out, leaving no time for yourself to dwell.
But you knew it was creeping in. You felt it in your bones, and soon you were starting to chew at the inside of your cheeks and lips. Slowly, your cheerful nature started to dwindle. You began sleeping a little longer, waking a little later. Some days you skipped showers, and others you forgot to eat. You started becoming sensitive to noise and light. And after a couple weeks, you fell into total sensory overload. Everything felt so heavy.
You locked yourself in your room, curtains drawn, and curled into a ball under the comforter. Your arms were covered with fresh cuts and you couldn’t stop crying. You ignored everyone knocking on the door and pleading with you to unlock it so they could talk to you, and you tossed your phone after the first text. Your head hurt, your eyes hurt, and you couldn’t get comfortable no matter which position you put yourself in.
Tony was yelling at Steve, arguing with him on how to handle this, and you pulled a pillow over your head in an attempt to muffle them. There was complete silence for a split second, and then you heard your door open. Your heart began to race and you tucked into yourself tighter.
“Sweetheart…” You felt the bed dip behind you as a low, gentle voice drifted through the blanket and pillow. You felt cold metal on your shoulder, and you knew it was Bucky. He smelled of blood, sweat, and gunpowder. Oddly comforting. But why was he there? He was supposed to be on a mission… “C'mere.”
You felt him gently slide into the bed behind you, still fully suited up from battle as he pulled the comforter over himself as well. His arms slid around you and pulled you in tight against him. You started to struggle against him, panicked, and he just held you tighter, pressing his mouth to your ear.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he said huskily. “M'not going anywhere, or making you do anything. M'just gonna hold you, okay baby? Just lemme hold you.” His words did what he meant them to do, and you were sinking back against him, shaking. Tears ran down your cheeks, but you were quiet; if you spoke, your voice would betray you. James Buchanan Barnes knew this. And he knew that holding you would help, because you had some the same thing for him many times before.
Bucky held you tightly, murmuring to you in Russian. You knew what he was saying. He always said the same thing.
“ты мой самый драгоценный.” You are my most precious one. The loud roar in your ears was beginning to die down to a low hum.
“Я всегда буду защищать тебя, моя маленькая звезда.” I will always protect you, my little star. The throbbing pain in your head was beginning to fade away.
“Я люблю тебя больше, чем солнце любит луну.” I love you more than the sun loves the moon. The next thing you felt was hot water cascading down your body. You opened your eyes to meet Bucky’s soft blue gaze. He gently brushed his thumb across your cheek, “There’s my girl..”
“Bucky…” You croaked, voice hoarse from crying so long. “I-I tried.. I didn’t want to…” He shushed you softly, taking a soapy washcloth and carefully cleaning your cuts.
“I know sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let’s get clean, then we can go back to bed. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Bucky could always make you feel better.