The nightmares plagued Bucky's sleep every night, and they were all different variations of the Winter Soldier's victims. The similarity in them all however was the ending; with a gunshot so loud he felt it shudder his ribcage and would shoot up with lightning speed, chest heaving with the effort to breathe.
This night was no different. Bucky gasped awake, close to hyperventilation, and Steve was jolted up from beside him. With eyes half closed and sleep infesting his voice, he cooes, "You're okay, Buck. You're fine." And dozily holds his arm out in Bucky's rough direction as an invitation for him to slide into his side, pressing himself up against Steve's soft, warm flesh.
Bucky considers the offer and even though this is their routine every time he gets a night terror that isn't violent enough to leave the bed wet or a crying Bucky, tonight feels like one of the bad nights with nausea creeping into his chest.
He shrugs it off to himself and pulls his body in around Steve's, wrapping his warm socked feet between Steve's knees and burying his head far in his shoulder, trying to even his breathing out while Steve is already gently snoring, but his thumb rubs silent circles on Bucky's forearm comfortingly.
Bucky tried closing his eyes but every time he'd get flashes of all the blood and the body parts and the flesh and the wounds and the cuts and the scars and the weapons and the medicines and the ice and the water on his face and the chemicals inserted into him and an IV drip and his throat filled with acidic tasting saliva that he swallowed down haphazardly, clamping his eyes shut with a groan.
He lay there for a while longer until his stomach was churning so uncomfortably he was having to stifle small hiccups under his palm. He feels sweat begin to pool on his forehead and realised with a panicked hollowness in his chest; he was about to be sick, and soon.
"God." He mumbled under his breath, trying to slide out of Steve's muscley body and slip out of bed. When his feet hit the ground his body lurched forwards in a gag that was seconds away from disaster if he hadn't of gulped.
Chills ran up his body in anticipation for what was going to come; it was always a horrific experience and he was going to be alone. He can't wake Steve.
He gently but hurriedly pads to the bathroom and shuts the door with a clang, falling to his knees in front of the toilet and clutching the seat with shaking hands.
Bucky groaned, feeling the churning get worse at the sight of the toilet and he let out a tiny retch, trying to bite it back. He doesn't want to make any noise and alert Steve.
"Fuck, fuck..." He curses under his breath when a heave threatens to force his food out but he holds it back, shaking with the force of it.
Maybe if he's quiet? It's not like he can control that. He can try, but...
A huge retch rippled through his body and he clamped his eyes shut, feeling the rush of liquid up his throat. Shit, shit. Sour liquid splashes into the toilet loudly, causing Bucky to wince as he retched again, a loud, spluttering noise as he struggled to catch his breath.
Vomit dripped out of his nose and he sobbed involuntarily, feeling completely terrible. He had the images flashing through his head, and when he thought he was done and about to wipe his mouth off he remembered the nightmare and burped loudly, spraying more puke into the mess he'd made with a sob.
He had a beat where the waves stopped and he could catch his breath, groaning softly.
"Ughh..." He moaned, stomach feeling unsettled. Just as he was about to pull the flush he felt the rush of heat up his body and knew he wasn't done. As he moaned and held himself over the toilet, the door opened and Steve rushed in, holding Bucky up with strong arms.
"Shhh. I got ya. Let it out." He mumbled, keeping Bucky stable over the toilet as he gagged a few more times, whining sadly.
"Shh. I know. I'm here, I'm not gonna leave you." Steve whispered, pulling Bucky's hair together in his fist to keep it out of his face. It was a bit late for that now though, and he used his other hand to rub large circles on Bucky's back to make getting his food up a little easier.
"Shh. Steady. That's it." He soothed when Bucky sucked in a breath too fast and heaved again.
"You're okay. I'm right here. Slow..."
"Steve I - I -" Bucky whined, feeling scared and trembly and sick, and sick with worry.
"You're alright, sweetheart. You're alright." Steve smiled reassuringly. When Bucky leaned further back into Steve's chest with a gasp he asked, "You think you're all done?" and Bucky nodded meekly.
"Okay bud." Steve flushed the toilet and pulled Bucky up to his feet effortlessly.
"Wanna brush your teeth again, love?" He offered and Bucky nodded again. Steve set to putting toothpaste on his brush and holding his mouth open gently by the chin, brushing his teeth for him.
"Spit." Steve had to tell him, because Bucky was so out of it from the shock.
He leaned forward and spat out his toothpaste, groaning.
"S've." He moaned.
"Yeah, I know babe." Steve mumbled, guiding Bucky to the bed gently.
"Wanna take your shirt off? You got a bit sweaty." He chucked kindly.
"Mmf." Bucky grumbled and Steve took his shirt off. Bucky moved to take his joggers off too.
"You feeling warm, Buck?" Steve asked and Bucky nodded sadly, taking his joggers off and snuffling into Steve's chest.
"M'sorry. Tried to be quiet." Bucky mumbled almost unaudibly.
"Shh. No need. You couldn't be quiet if you tried." He teased, pulling his boyfriend into bed.
"C'mon. I'll hold you." He offered and Bucky practically darted into Steve's open arms.
Steve rubbed his hand over Bucky's bare back as he snuffled softly, tears soaking into Steve's shirt until the noises died down and Bucky fell into a light sleep.
"Goodnight, baby." Steve whispered.