Work Text:
The Avengers stood huddled together in the communal kitchen, whispering furiously among themselves when Bucky walked in. He froze mid-step, empty coffee cup in one hand and used plate in the other.
“What’s going on?”
The whispering immediately stopped. Bucky was faced with the slightly sheepish looks of his new…friends, if you could call them that. Bucky had only been staying in the tower for about two months, but it still surprised him how easily Steve’s team accepted him as one of their own. Thinking of that, where was Steve? He hadn't been anywhere to be seen when Bucky left for his morning work-out; but then again, Steve usually went running at that time anyways. He should have been bustling around the kitchen, preparing his ridiculously healthy, ridiculously large breakfast by now though.
“We have a situation.” Tony announced dramatically, looking simultaneously worried and annoyed. “Cap won’t stop.”
“Stop what?” Bucky asked, eyeing Natasha’s tight lips and Clint’s jittery hands. In response to his question the entire group turned towards their shared living room, prompting him to turn around as well. His eyes, as usually, were immediately drawn to a certain blond super soldier, currently hunched over the large table intended for making battle plans and fighting evil. It probably said something about all of them, Bucky thought, that they had a table with that specific purpose in the living room.
“What’s he doing?”
Bruce sighed. “Going over the latest assignment.”
“Didn't you finish that one yesterday?” Bucky asked with a confused frown. Steve was normally very quick with handing in his field rapports, preferring to write them as soon as he returned rather than getting some rest first. He usually had Nat and Clint to back him up in battle, and they were not even remotely as concerned as Steve when it came to paper work.
“Yes, we did.” Nat responded between clenched teeth. “But for some reason, even though he couldn't have done anything, he is obsessed with trying to look for mistakes in the planning and fight.”
She was obviously directing the last sentence to Steve, who didn't appear to hear her or notice the collected stare of his entire team. Bucky huffed. Super hearing and soldier senses, yeah right.
“What went wrong?”
“Nothing big.” Clint said. “A few civilians got caught in the crossfire, plenty got hurt and a few didn't make it. Steve has gotten it into his head that it was his fault.”
“And was it?” Bucky wondered even though he already knew the answer.
Natasha’s answer was fast and frustrated. “No! There was absolutely nothing he could do, like I've told him at least fifty times, but he just won’t listen.”
“I see,” Bucky sighed. “And how long has he been obsessing over this?”
“When I went to bed last night he was still sitting there.” Tony said with poorly concealed concern.
“I’m pretty sure he hasn't moved since then.” Bruce chipped in.
“I tried to make him go sleep it off but he won’t listen to me, the fucker.” Clint’s arms were crossed.
“I see.” Bucky repeated with a sigh. He put down his coffee cup and plate and approached Steve, with the Avengers watching his every move from their position overlooking the living room. The captain didn't appear to notice him, or his quiet greeting.
“Steve, what are you up to?” Bucky decided the straight approach would be best. His theory was reinforced when Steve turned tired, anxious eyes on him.
“Bucky! I’m just going through some stuff, can’t hang out right now. Sorry, I’m sure Nat will want to train or something. I’m just kinda busy, sorry.”
“Sure Steve, whatever you say.” Bucky answered calmly, as he laid a hand on Steve’s tense shoulder. “But you know what, I just want to listen to some music and read on the couch. Don’t you think you could do your important stuff over there, Mr. Big shot superhero?”
Steve huffed a laugh, but it was half-hearted. “Nah Bucky, thanks but I better finish this.”
Bucky pressed his hand down on Steve’s shoulder, slowly massaging the stiff muscles. Steve didn't even seem to notice, except for a tiny, unconscious loosening of his rigid posture.
“Come on Stevie, it would be a lot more comfortable than that chair. Keep me company for a little while. I can read, and you can work on your stuff.”
Steve visibly hesitated, casting a suspicious look between Bucky’s earnest expression and the couch a few meters away.
“You won’t mind me working?”
“Not at all, buddy. Why don’t you move over there and I’ll put on some music?”
Bucky retreated to Tony’s hysterically large music system and observed Steve’s slow shuffle trough the room. Jeez. The normally alert super soldier was practically too tired to walk straight. Bucky narrowed his eyes. This was the last time Steve was allowed on a mission without Bucky. He had been fine and episode-free for over four months, he could handle going out into the field again. Steve obviously needed Bucky to keep him on the right track, both during and after missions.
As Steve settled in on the couch with his papers Bucky put on a playlist he had made for himself, which a bunch of old-timey jazz that made him slightly nostalgic. It was a playlist for sleepless nights with the memory of death plaguing his mind, nights when all he could think about were the dying faces of his former targets. It was a playlist for him and his issues, but it would work nicely for what he had in mind right now.
Bucky smiled as the sound of smooth trumpets flowed through the air. He ignored the confused looks of the Avengers in the kitchen and joined Steve on the couch, settling in a lot closer than what was socially expected. His arm pressed in close to Steve’s and their thighs brushed against each other with every breath.
Steve gave him a tired smile and returned to scanning the papers on the table in front of them, bent over slightly. Bucky’s book was already at the table; he picked it up but didn't even pretend to read it. After a few seconds of watching Steve anxiously riffle through the papers he made his move. He put his hand carefully on Steve hunched back, keeping his touch light and easy. Steve stiffened and cast another one of those suspicious looks at Bucky over his shoulder.
“What are you doing, Bucky? You said you would let me work.” His attempt at scowling were interrupted by a yawn that the captain immediately reined in, biting his teeth together as if that would get rid of his fatigue. It was adorable
Bucky returned Steve’s endeavor to appear disapproving with an innocent look. “I didn't say anything! What, I can’t even touch you now? I just need to know you’re here with me, Steve.”
Steve’s face immediately softened. Bucky internally cheered, while simultaneously being careful to keep his face looking slightly upset. Bringing out the whole super-assassin-who-was-tortured-and-lonely-for-over-70-years always worked with Steve, the big softie.
“I’m sorry, Buck, I didn't mean it like that.”
“S’ fine Stevie. Don’t worry about it.”
They shared a smile and Steve turned back to the table. Bucky waited a few seconds and then started stroking his hand over Steve’s back in slow, soothing circles. Steve relaxed a little bit but didn't say anything, just continued reading to the sound of low jazz playing in the background. Bucky watched Steve closely and noticed the way his head would drop slightly every few seconds before he righted himself again. Jesus. He was obviously exhausted, otherwise he would notice what Bucky was doing and call him on it. Nobody who had their head screwed on right could accuse ever Steve Rogers of being dumb or ignorant, not without having to answer to Bucky. But this was not Steve at his full capacity, no, this was Steve without a lick of sense. He didn't have a clue what was going on.
Bucky kept up his soft stroking and started humming along with the music, nice and low. He had always had an alright voice; Steve used to tell him he could be a big star, performing with all the big shots on Broadway. They had both known it was a lie, of course, but it was nice to pretend sometimes. They didn't always have that much nice, back then.
Now, in the 21th century, Bucky watched as Steve’s eyes remained closed for several seconds at a time before he managed to wrestle them open. Bucky smirked slowly, sure of his victory. Steve had always hated going to sleep when they were younger, caught up in his painting or worried about how they were gonna make ends meet. It had been Bucky’s job to make sure his younger friend got the rest he needed, just like it was his job now, and he knew exactly how to go about doing it.
He kept up with the gentle humming and moved his hand up, slowly, to Steve’s neck. Waiting for a reaction and pleased when Steve just lost the fight against his eyelids once again, Bucky applied pressure, more and more until Steve toppled sideways, half over his lap. Steve blinked confusedly and attempted to right himself, clearly not sure what had happened and possibly believing he had fallen asleep on Bucky accidentally. He mumbled something vague and apologetic that Bucky ignored.
“Oh, buddy, looks like you should maybe lean back a little, huh? Don’t want to get anything wrong with your papers, do you?”
It didn't even make sense, but Steve wasn't in a place to know what made sense and what didn't. He mumbled some more, still striving to assume his earlier position hunched over the table but stopped by Bucky’s hand on his neck. Bucky leaned forward and picked up the pile of papers before drawing Steve back against his chest. The hand previously on Steve’s neck wrapped around his shoulder instead, keeping him leaned sideways into Bucky.
“There we go, isn't that better? Now, sweetheart, let’s take a look at these papers together. I want to know what has you so busy.”
Steve made an attempt to sit up again but Bucky simply tightened his hold and Steve went nowhere he wasn't supposed to. Fat load of good that super strength did if the super soldier couldn't even concentrate enough to use it. Bucky ignored Steve protests, looking through the reports and snapping up enough information to get the gist of it. He wasn't exactly surprised by what he found.
“Steve, I want you to listen to me closely right now. Can you do that?”
Steve gave him a glare that was quite impressive considering he was now slumped on Bucky’s shoulder, still struggling to keep his eyes open.
“Yes.”
“Good. Pay attention, because I’m only gonna say this once. It was not your fault that those people got hurt. It was not your fault that some bad people decided to put innocent people in danger. It was not your fault. Go it?”
Steve didn't really answer, but Bucky knew he had said all that he could say on that front. Either Steve would accept the truth or he wouldn't, and there wasn't much Bucky could do to change his mind. What he could do, though, was make sure that Steve got some sleep. He started stroking Steve’s upper arm with his fingers, arm still wrapped around broad shoulders.
“Time to talk about this not-sleep thing. Come on, Steve. I thought the whole point of the serum was to make you stronger. How are you gonna go fight the bad guys if you tire yourself out like this? You gotta sleep, pal.”
Steve mumbled something sounding vaguely like “don’t tell me what to do”, drawing an amused smile from Bucky. He shushed Steve indulgently, bringing his metal hand up to drag carefully through blond strands of hair.
“You’re not that tiny anymore, but you still need me to take care of you, don’t you? Completely hopeless, can’t do nothing on your own. Maybe we should give you a bedtime, huh? Wouldn't that be something to shock America with, their great big war symbol being sent to bed like a little kid. Would you like that, Steve?”
Steve hummed softly in response, clueless to what Bucky was saying. His head was lolling on Bucky’s shoulder and his eyes were closed. Bucky slowly, carefully continued his gentle patting and kept up a steady stream of nonsense ramblings. His efforts yielded results when Steve’s breathing became heavier and heavier as he finally dropped into sleep.
“There we go, sweetheart, just like that. You’re doing great, just let me take care of you for a little bit. Feels good, doesn't it? Yeah, I know it does. You just relax, Stevie, and you’ll be fine. Shhhh, there you go.”
Bucky waited for Steve to be deeply asleep before he raised his gaze to the gobsmacked Avengers still standing in the kitchen. He threw them a fast smirk, the jazz still playing softly in the background.
“And that’s how you put Steve to sleep.”