Chapter 2
The atmosphere was light and hearty, like any regular workplace gathering, aside from the fact that everyone was either armed or extremely dangerous anyway. Steve stuck by Bucky for most of it, until the man managed to give him the slip and sat near the edge of the roof, legs dangling from the edge like a child in a chair. He hadn't wanted to ruin the mood. Despite all of Steve's insistence on his innocence, Bucky knew how people felt about him. The averting gazes, the slight shift in their bodies, the way they treated him. As if he were a sick dog waiting to be put down.
He didn't blame them for it either.
Steve did his rounds, speaking to everyone, charming and clever. Bucky liked to watch him this way; he could see the way the corner of his eyes wrinkled whenever he smiled at someone or laughed. Steve was relaxed, his body not tense or guarded like Bucky was.
He was as relaxed as he could be, granted. He liked being alone. Then all hell broke loose.
The fireworks had started. Bucky saw red, and for a second, he lost control of everything. His mind, his body, his voice. Something - no - someone, was restraining him, and he panicked more, not hearing their voices, but just the continued echoes of the explosions above.
He remembered making it to the fire escape and curling into a ball, trying to shrink himself down and covering his ears. No no no no no, he whispered to himself in Russian.
Bucky made crying, almost choked noises as his head was shoved to the ground, on his stomach, with his arms pinned to his back. His legs were free however, for a moment, until something else immobilized them. "LET ME GO LET ME GO!" He shouted, his mouth being the only thing not controlled.
A hand covered his mouth as he thrashed, until he heard Steve in his ear. "Shhhhh Buck it's okay, you're safe. You're okay. I'm so sorry Buck, I'm an idiot. We're gonna try and get you back inside, okay?"
Bucky stopped struggling, and lay limp as they dragged him, whimpering so quietly that only Steve noticed.
"It's alright. No one saw," Sam's voice said quietly, from behind as he restrained Bucky's legs. "We must hurry back so not to incite discussion however," T'Challa grunted from the other side of Bucky.
"You hear that, Buck? You're gonna be okay. No more fireworks, no more people. I'll stay with you in the apartment. They won't miss me," Steve said, shooting a look to the other two that said "Don't argue."
They made it to the apartment, where they placed his shaking form on the couch, and Sam covered him with a blanket. "S'alright. Everything's okay. Hey, I know how it feels. Might not seem like it right now, but things will get better soon. You're gonna get better soon." Bucky appreciated his words, and soon he felt his heart settle, his breathing no longer audible.
Bucky blinked twice in response, and watched as Sam left. "You don't have to stay Steve," he whispered, burying his face into the couch cushion.
"Damn right I will - ", Steve started, but he paused. "Know what?" He said, and Bucky groaned because he knew exactly what the other man was about to do.
"Steve - "
"HEY ASSHOLE, YOU WANNA FUCKING GO?! THOSE THINGS ARE ILLEGAL HERE," Steve ignored him, grabbing his shield on his way out.
This man was literally about to shout to the sky and all who might be responsible for the fireworks.
Bucky groaned and turned over. T'Challa hummed something to help him sleep, a hand on Bucky's shoulder to further calm him.
It's not your fault, he seemed to say silently.
~
"Steve." T'Challa called after him into the hallway. "I'm gonna fight it," the other man said as he barreled his way through. T'Challa touched a hand to his temple and groaned.