Chapter Text
3 months later
Sometimes Bucky follows Steve around without the Captain even knowing it. Today is one of those days. Steve would be furious if he ever found out, considering he expects his friend to be safe and sound at home. Bucky’s not doing it to be creepy or anything. He’s not a damn stalker. He does it to make sure that Steve is safe and because he doesn’t trust anyone else to have Steve’s back. Especially that Stark asshole. Some days Bucky has a hard time remembering that Tony isn’t Howard; they are almost identical in appearance and personality and he has a vague memory of Steve telling him once that he and Howard had had a brief ‘thing’.
‘Thing.’ Bucky’s blood boils at the thought and he doesn’t know if it’s him or the Winter Soldier that’s making him feel sick and jealous the way he does. Fuck. He is so fucked. Regardless of the fact that Steve had told him they’d had a relationship of some sort back in the 40’s, Bucky is not who he once was and he doesn’t have any expectations that they can ever have what they used to.
Bucky banishes the thought as he flits across another roof top, eyes zeroing in on Steve down on the sidewalk as he walks into a coffee shop to meet Sam. Bucky stops where he is and hunkers down so he is partially hidden by a brick pillar that may have once been a chimney, he thinks. It’s the 21st century and most people don’t have chimneys or fireplaces anymore. It’s all central heating and fake electric fireplaces now.
Bucky has to close his eyes before his thoughts go too far. He gets awful bitter these days and Steve tells him the best thing to do is just breathe and not think about it. Don’t think, don’t think. Bucky breathes heavily and glares until Steve emerges out of the coffee shop again with Sam and sits down at a small table outside. Bucky’s chest eases a little bit. He doesn’t feel right if he can’t see Steve.
It looks like two intend on staying awhile so Bucky props himself up against the dusty red brick and settles in. He’s not comfortable but the he knows the Winter Soldier has many memories of being very uncomfortable, so this is nothing. He’ll take uncomfortable over pain.
He flexes his new metal arm as he watches the two below him to test the response of his fingers. Stark replaced his old one (bastard, hate him, hate him) and while he still doesn’t have feeling in it, this one is much smoother and no longer has a red star painted on the bicep. Now it has a red and white shield and it always warms Bucky a little when he sees it. Reminds him of who is. Not just a ghost or an asset. He has friends now and a place to call home. And he has Steve.
Bucky is starting to lose focus when suddenly something in his pocket buzzes and he startles. His phone. He frowns and pulls it out of his jeans; the display shows Natasha’s name and a blurry photo of her above it. He doesn’t remember adding her into his contacts. It goes without saying, but he’s only ever had one contact in there and it sure as hell wasn’t hers.
He hits the answer button reluctantly.
“What?” He barks, glaring at nothing and everything.
“You better have a good explanation for being late, Barnes.” Natasha’s voice is just as harsh.
Shit. He has sessions with Natasha for an hour twice a week and only now does he remember he has one with her today. She helps him regain memories sometimes. He knows that she was also a Russian spy once and it reassures him that she was able to make it back from such a dark place.
Maybe he can make it back okay, too.
Bucky looks at the time on his phone; 2:05. He’s surprised she even waited even 5 minutes; he’s never been late before. How did he forget? Bucky cringes and glances down to the street below. Steve is still there, sipping at his coffee and smiling. Damnit, Steve.
“I’m,” Bucky clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m with Steve. Must have slipped my mind.”
Doesn’t that just say everything? His mind is in shambles, he can’t be expected to remember every damn thing.
“Put him on the phone.” Natasha demands, sounding suspicious.
“Uh,” Bucky struggles to find words. When he was the Winter Soldier, he never struggled to find words and somehow that pisses him off. “Can’t. He’s…in the…bathroom.”
Fuck, he is so bad at lying. How has he gotten so bad at lying?
“Fuck, are you following him again, Barnes? We’ve already talked about this!” Bucky hears the sound of a car door closing and he knows he’s in shit now.
“Nat, no, no, please, I’m beggin’ ya, don’t tell Steve.” Inwardly, the Winter Soldier in Bucky is fighting with him now. Why is he begging? He doesn’t beg. He makes others beg.
Bucky starts hyper ventilating and he drops the phone.
“You can’t, you can’t…” Bucky is gripping his real arm with the metal one and he hears a bone snap but he doesn’t feel it.
He starts hitting his head against the brick pillar, hard, trying to push the Winter Soldier back down. There’s red flowing into his eyes but he doesn’t care. The assassin in him is crawling his way up and up and he can’t stop it, can’t stop…
“Bucky! Bucky! Jesus Christ,” a voice pulls him back up and he can breathe again. Doesn’t know how long he’s been gone but he knows that voice. The Winter Soldier grumbles and fades and within seconds, it’s as if he was never there.
“Steve,” Bucky gasps clutching at Steve’s leather jacket with his metal hand. His real one isn’t working and he doesn’t know why but Steve is back and he’s big and warm but his eyes are bloodshot and he looks worried. Bucky hates when he looks like this.
“Oh my god, Buck, your arm.” Steve looks sick. Bucky’s forearm is bent at an odd angle and it looks wrong, so wrong.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Bucky is sobbing and he can’t stop, doesn’t know if he can ever stop. He doesn’t know where he is or how he got there or why his arm is throbbing but he knows he did this to himself and it’s so wrong.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, really, it’s all good,” Steve is rambling as he struggles out of his coat and rips his shirt off, pressing it to the gash on the back of Bucky’s head. “I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere, you hear me? Bucky?”
Bucky’s tears don’t stop and Steve’s face is blurring around the edges but he nods. Steve’s here, he’s safe. It’s all okay. Safe. Steve… Bucky lists sideways and everything goes black.
~*~
When he wakes up, he knows he’s in a hospital before he even opens his eyes. He can smell the antiseptic and metal. He can hear the beeping of a heart monitor. It’s probably his. He hears soft breathing next to him and he opens his eyes slowly to dull light. It’s night time. He rolls his head sideways to find the source of the breathing and his chest fills with warmth. Steve.
He tries to say something but it comes out all garbled. Drugged. His eyes drift lazily to the IV drip attached to his real arm, the one wrapped in plaster around the middle to set broken bone. Must be morphine. God, he feels slow.
Nevertheless, Steve twitches in his plastic chair at the sound and his eyes flutter open. His eyes are so blue that Bucky gets lost in them for what feels like a very long time. Steve smiles softly when he sees Bucky is awake; he leans forward and presses a hand to his friend’s shoulder.
Bucky feels nothing.
“Don’t…” Bucky slurs. “Not that arm.”
He doesn’t know if his words make any sense but Steve seems to understand and he presses his hand to the middle of Bucky’s chest instead. The heat sears through his bones, straight to his heart. Yes, he can feel that, alright. His lungs feel like they can pull in air again and he breathes a little easier.
“How you feeling, buddy?” Steve asks gently, rubbing gentle circles on Bucky’s chest through the thin hospital gown.
Bucky sighs, maybe a little too blissfully.
“Better now.” He says. He doesn’t know if it’s coming out English or Russian, or if it’s even coming out words at all. He doesn’t care. Steve will always understand. They’ve never really needed words anyway.
“Gave me a real good scare, Buck,” Steve doesn’t stop the rhythmic circular motions of his hand. He continues hesitantly, “Natasha told me that you were… are… having some separation anxiety,” now the kindness in Steve’s eyes hurts. Bucky knows he’s an asshole but he hates having it spelled out for him. “Why didn’t you just tell me, Buck? You know I wouldn’t have ever left.”
Bucky can tell Steve is angry at himself for not seeing it. Steve’s always got this thing where he takes on other people’s pain and damn if that hasn’t stayed the same since they were kids.
“When you’re gone,” Bucky forces out between his teeth, looking up at the ceiling and feeling ashamed. “He comes back. I tried to keep him away, I…I tried, Steve.”
Steve is making that pinched face like he does when he’s going to cry and Bucky flounders for a moment.
“Please don’t,” he begs, his voice rough. “It’s my fault, I should’ve… shoulda told ya.”
“Yeah, Buck, you should’ve,” Steve looks pained and the soothing circles on Bucky’s chest stop. Bucky’s throat closes up quickly, and he looks at his friend frantically. The heart rate monitor starts beeping out of control.
“Just don’t…” Bucky’s struggling for words again; they come out mumbled and muddled together. Why can’t he ever find the words? “Please, just…don’t leave me.”
Without Steve, he’s nothing. Steve is everything. If he loses him, he may as well be dead. Dimly he knows he’s using Steve as a crutch but he can’t stop himself. He craves the man like a drug; when he can’t have it, he feels like he’s dying. That man is the only thing that makes sense anymore.
“God, Buck, of course I won’t leave you,” the circles start again and Bucky can breathe. “Why would I ever leave you? I only just got you back.”
“I’m fucked up, Steve,” his eyes are watering again and he hates himself for being weak. The Winter Soldier growls in the black bottomless pit that hides within him, feeling opportunity in Bucky’s weakness. “I’m real fucked up this time.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Steve says fiercely, pushing his chair away and hovering over his friend. “Look at me, Buck. No really, look at me right now.”
Bucky reluctantly pulls his eyes away from the wall and looks up at his friends determined face. It makes him feel warm and guilty all at once.
“You think I’m not gonna fight for you?” Steve says urgently, resting his hands on Bucky’s face, careful of the bandage around his head. The stubble under his hands is soft. “You think I’m just gonna sit back and watch you tear yourself apart? I’m with you till the end of the line, pal, whether you want me here or not.”
Bucky doesn’t know what to say so he just nods. Steve sighs heavily and pulls his hands away, sitting back down. Bucky feels uncomfortably full with too many emotions and he closes eyes, suddenly feeling tired.
“Get some more sleep, Buck.” Steve's voice sounds far away and out of focus. Bucky drifts and darkness takes him again.