5. Steve
Sometimes, Steve stays the night. Everytime he can spend more than one day in Romania without having and/or causing trouble, actually. If Bucky's even in the country, of course. And if he's feeling good enough to be able to stay in the same room as Steve without feeling uncomfortable - or trying to kill him. It's not like it's anything new, really. They shared an apartment after Steve's parents died and it definitely wasn't a big one. They were both in the army and God knows you can't exactly complain about sleeping arrangments there. So the first time Steve did stay the night, they didn't even have to say anything about it, they simply curled up in Bucky's bed, their backs against each other, and it didn't even feel weird.
But they never actually do sleep through the entire night. Sleep was avoiding Steve, even more so since what happened in Sokovia, and he knew it was avoiding Bucky as well. Steve had spent so many hours staring at the not quite dark room in front of him that he now knew every single angle of Bucky's furniture, every spot of scratched paint on the walls, every broken floorboard.
He knew Bucky wasn't sleeping so much either. Most of the time, he could hear the slightly rushed rhythm of his breathing that proved he wasn't relaxed enough to be resting. So they just stayed there for hours and the silence was only broken by their respective breathings or occasional whispers of memories or questions or Thank you for being here. It wasn't much but it was already better than staying awake on their own.
Then again, even when Bucky was actually sleeping, he wasn't exactly resting. Sometimes, Steve could hear that Bucky was falling asleep, and for a little less than an hour the apartment was really, completely silent. After that, it was just Bucky kicking the sheets - and usually Steve's legs on the process - and muttering partial sentences in Russian or German or languages Steve didn't understand. Sometimes it wasn't too bad, so Steve didn't try to wake him up - demons of the present days could actually be worse than some memories he dreamed of. When Bucky was sweating and crying and let me go! and пожалуйста* - that Steve recognized now, and the despair in Bucky's voice was too much for him to bear, he didn't wait and just woke him up.
It was no different that night. Somewhere around 2pm Bucky told him that he remembered the day Steve broke into that German facility in 1943. « If I hadn't paid attention to your voice I probably would've thought you were a Nazi yourself. » Bucky said, and he felt Steve's back shaking againt his own as Steve chuckled. « You were so different. »
Steve wanted to say that in the end, he wasn't so different. At least on the inside, he absolutely didn't feel any different. But Bucky cut him off and kept speaking. « And that helmet of yours was one of the most ridiculous things you've ever worn, pal. »
Steve laughed for real this time. « That's cause you never saw what they made me wear in New York three years ago. » Steve fell asleep soon after that. He rarely felt so lighthearted, knowing that Bucky was within hands reach, remembering Steve and feeling good enough to actually make fun of him.
Of course it couldn't last. Steve wakes up a few hours later - the sunlight is barely visible through the curtains, but it's close to morning - when cold feet repeatedly meet his calves under the covers. Steve grunts into his pillow and rolls carefully - it's a small bed and they are both quite large men - so he can face Bucky's back. His shoulders are trembling and his voice sounds broken as he's lost in a mantra of I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...
Steve pushes himself up on his elbow and bends a little over him. Bucky's metal fingers are clutching the fabric of his pillow so hard it's close to ripping it off and his face is contorted in what seems to be pain and fear and sadness and panic and disgust all at once. Steve couldn't tell if he's still crying or not but his cheeks are definitely stained with tears.
Steve lies on his back for a moment and puts an arm over his eyes. Everyone seems to believe he's so righteous and all. But if he could go back in time and find the ones who did this to his best friend to make sure they suffer endlessly before they die, he would. He wouldn't mind torturing them himself right now. Too bad they're already dead.
He takes a deep breath and swallows back the tears that are already forming in the corner of his eyes, and turns back to Bucky. He doesn't understand half of what he's whispering in his sleep, but in the middle of another thousand sorry he can pick up some words that sound like home and not anymore and 32557038 and Stark and tired. His own name, too.
« Buck. » He tries, a hand on Bucky's shoulder. « Bucky... Come on man, wake up. »
Bucky shifts under the covers, and not him, not him, no, and Steve would give up on everything so his friend can find something that's even remotely close to peace. Except there's nothing he can do.
« Bucky. » He tries a little bit louder, pressing his fingers further into Bucky's collarbone. Bucky's eyes seem almost black as they snap open and he's gasping for air. Steve backs off a little as Bucky sits up to catch his breath, flesh hand wiping the sweat off his forehead.
« You okay? » is what Steve asks without thinking, out of habit, but obviously Bucky's not okay and he immediately blames himself for asking. Bucky takes a few more shallow breaths before bringing his legs closer to his chest and letting his head rest on one knee. His voice is definitely broken and barely audible when he whispers. « Sorry I woke you up again. »
« "Sorry you"... Buck, I don't care, you don't have to be sorry for anything. »
Steve tries to put a hand on Bucky's arm but he shrugs it away. « I... Don't. » Yeah, sure, Bucky doesn't want Steve nowhere near his metal arm right after a nightmare, when he trusts himself even less than usual.
The blonde frowns and sits up as well so he's half next to, half facing Bucky. « Wanna talk about it? » Bucky dares to take a look at Steve and his eyes are weary and red with tears. Tears that keep running down his cheeks and it breaks Steve's heart even more.
Steve puts an arm around Bucky's shoulder and he couldn't care less when Bucky tries to escape his hold. He gives up soon - he doesn't want to fight anymore - and lets his head fall in the crook of Steve's neck.
They stay like this for a moment, before Steve starts talking again. « You talked about Stark in your sleep? Did they use him against you as well? » He knows it's not pleasant. It's not pleasant for him, and it's definitely not pleasant for Bucky. But he also knows that the best way for Bucky to get better is for him to talk about all those things that keep haunting him in his sleep. The notebooks are one thing, talking to Steve face to face is another.
Bucky's voice vibrates against his own throat and he feels him shaking again. « I'm the one who killed him. » is what Steve hears at first. But it's muffled with sobs and hesitation, so Steve puts his other arm around Bucky and holds him closer. « What? » His own voice sounds husky. Bucky is shaking his head relentlessly against his neck as if saying no. Steve brings a hand under Bucky's chin and lifts it up ever so slightly, only so their eyes can meet.
« Bucky, what is it? »
More tears, more unspoken don't make me say it and Bucky's furious eyes are looking everywhere but at Steve's again.
« It-... It was me, I... »
« You what? » Steve tries to keep his voice calm and low, to not sound like he's pushing him, but he's tired and confused and he doesn't know what to do.
« Howard, it was me, and he saw me, I remember him looking at me as if he... No, he did recognize me, it was-... »
« Bucky, slow down, I don't understand anything, Howard? What happened with Howard? »
And then Bucky finally meets his eye, but there's nothing in them that Steve ever wished to see. « I'm the one who killed him. »
Steve is silent after that. He stares at his best friend trying to figure out a way to process this information but there's no way to process that, right? Bucky's watching out for his reactions, all clenched jaw and blurry eyes, but Steve's blank face is too much and he drops his head down again, his throat so tight he can barely breathe.
Steve doesn't know what to say. So he doesn't say anything, he simply clings more desperately to Bucky and hides in his messy chocolate hair that's even more knotted after him relentlessly moving under the covers.
« I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Steve, I'm sorry... » Bucky whispers, and Steve can feel him breathing shakily against his chest. He tries to rub a hand up and down Bucky's back but he's trembling as well, and they probably look like a mess of quivering, tangled limbs, Bucky curled up in Steve's arms and clutching to his shirt. It takes a while for both of them to calm down - for Steve to be a little less shocked and unresponsive, and for Bucky to stop crying and apologizing.
« He recognized me. » Bucky's voice is nothing more than a tired whisper and he feels completely limp by now. « Before I killed him, he said "Sergeant Barnes". He looked at me and I didn't even look at him. I just... » The details he can't even voice out loud. « His wife too. I didn't look at them and then they were dead. »
« Buck. » Steve puts a little more space between the two of them - as small as he can - and presses their foreheads together, hands coming up behind Bucky's neck. His eyes are dry by now, much more grey than blue. « You didn't... »
« Don't go "you didn't do it" on me, I know I did. I know I can't change that. I know the last thing he saw before he died was that the man who came to take him down was someone supposedly dead for a long time. Someone who was supposed to be a friend, Steve, how do you think that made him feel? »
Steve shakes his head, closes his eyes. He doesn't want to know. He absolutely doesn't want to know what Howard felt at this very moment. He just wants Bucky to be okay, but Bucky's not okay, and neither is he, and everything is messed up, and all of this is making him sick, and he doesn't know if the human race is worth all those fights sometimes.
« We can't change that. » is the only answer Steve can come up with. Because in the end, it's the only truth. Well, not the only// truth. « I promise you I'll do everything I can so it never happens again. »
Steve lifts his head up a little so he can press a light kiss to Bucky's forehead, before he drags Bucky with him as he lays back down on the mattress. « You're not hurting anyone and no one's hurting you on my watch. »
The more they speak and the more their whispers fade away ; Bucky doesn't answer anything after that, he only nods so imperceptibly that Steve doesn't know if he actually heard him.
Exhaustion takes over them and they fall asleep like that, with Bucky's unsteady frame hiding against Steve so much he actually seems small, and Steve has one hand lost in his hair, the other drawing small circles between his shoulderblades. Well, Steve doesn't fall asleep immediately. He waits for Bucky to do so, and only then can he let go of all the tears he'd been holding back. It's over now, he keeps repeating himself. It's over now and you're not letting him go, not now, not ever. Someone tries to get control of his mind again, they'll have to deal with you first.
(Steve wished every night wouldn't be like this one. They aren't, actually. Hearing about Howard was the worst. But when it's not Howard it's someone else, a politician, a scientist who knows too much, a child that's seen too much. And when it's not someone that Bucky's murdered, it's just more memories of unethical experiments and pain and the feeling of his mind sleeping through his fingers. Steve can only be there and wait for him to get better - assuming that's possible - and hold his hand while they hope for better days, the good days when they can just remember Brooklyn and the reckless kids they were, when Steve was a skinny punk who got sick all the time and it was war and they had no money and everything was perfect.)