As the credits of Shrek 2 played, you stretched. You tilted your head back in a yawn, wiping at your eyes.
“I think that’s one of the best movies of our time.”
Bucky just shook his head, laughing. “I don’t really get it, but I trust you on that.”
You glanced over at your microwave, reading the time. 11:06 PM.
“You can stay here, y’know.” You hummed, looking over at him.
“It’s fine. I don’t live too far, anyway.” He replied, but you shook your head.
You’d been dating for around a year at this point, and he’d never stayed over at your place. You understood he had some struggles with physical intimacy due to his past, and you’d never pushed. But sometimes you felt that him not wanting to stay over was really a reflection on you, rather than his own anxiousness.
“Babe, it’s 11 at night. I’m not making you walk home at night in the middle of winter. Just stay here.” You tried to reason.
“Doll—“
“Bucky.” You cut him off. “I’m obviously not going to force you to stay here. But just know that you can.”
“I know, babe. It’s just..” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck as he glanced away from you. You took a few steps closer, and he held his hands on your waist. You rested your hands against his chest, looking at him.
You waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.
“I have..nightmares. And it’s stupid as hell, I know, but I don’t…I don’t want you to see me like that.” He made eye contact now, though it was clear he didn’t want to.
“Babe..that kind of thing will never change how I see you. Ever. I love you. I love you, James Buchanan Barnes. Nothing will change that. Not nightmares, not flashbacks, not anything PTSD related. I promise you.”
“You haven’t seen what it’s like.” He huffs out a laugh, looking away.
“Maybe not. But I know that no matter what it’s like, I’ll still be with you through it.” You slowly moved your arms to wrap around his neck.
“I’m gonna believe you on that.” He hummed.
“Aw, c’mon, when have I ever lied to you?” You chuckled.
“Remember when you told me you didn’t finish my leftovers that one time?”
“Well—that’s—listen—“ you sputtered, and he just laughed.
He grew serious again after a moment. “Seriously though. I’m a grown adult, and—“
“Bucky, grown ass adults get nightmares too. Especially ones with trauma.”
He didn’t seem to believe you. “It’s not even always real memories. Sometimes it’s just made up things based on those memories. It’s so fucking annoying. But the memory ones are worse. By far.” He huffed, his eyes slightly widening to show his annoyance.
“I get them too, y’know.” You revealed. His eyes widened and his brows shot up at that. You nodded along at his surprise as he waited for you to explain.
“You know how I was a nurse before the blip?”
He nodded, aware of that fact.
“Sometimes I still get stress nightmares from working in the ER. It’s not as often, but they happen from time to time.” You confessed.
Your nightmares always played out in similar ways. You had the idea that your feet were killing you from walking around all night. Then to ere would be some emergency, and you’d be led into a patient’s room, and it would be a gory sight.
Some of these made up patients would be covered in wet, dripping blood that would just get everywhere. It would have the same consistency of water, and even if you never even touched them in your dream, you’d always see your blood soaked hands, the red drops dripping off onto the white tile below.
“They’re sometimes really stupid and nonsensical, but I still get them. And I didn’t even go through 70+ years of shit.” You finished your statement.
He leaned down to press his forehead against yours. “They’re bad, dollface.”
“I’m sorry, hon.” You murmured.
“And I never knew you had nightmares. You never said anything about it.” You could tell that this was his way of saying ‘knowing this makes me feel closer to you’.
“I thought you’d think it was dumb.” You chuckled.
“Clearly not.” He laughed a little, before pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”