Bucky tapped his foot on the old, stained floor in agitation, watching the doctor stare him down in that typical way of hers. Thing is, he knows he hasn't done the best he could. He forgets his meds and he falls into the habit of ignoring his friends for weeks on end but sometimes it takes so much to not pick up the gun stashed in the back of his wardrobe that all he can do is curl up for days on end.
He doesn't even deserve to be breathing air, considering what he's done. So many people got the breath stolen from them because of him and he's already lived decades than the average life.
There was nothing special about him that gave him the right to live a long life that others don't get, apart from the fact he has the serum coursing through his veins, pumping into his muscles. Even in the past, during the war, he didn't save anyone. He wasn't selfless and he wasn't brave, he was terrified and threw up after he shot one person.
He learnt to deal with it later on, when he was the Winter Soldier. He didn't really have a choice. His brain was so blended he didn't really think anything; the ice was so cold it numbed out all the nerves in his brain and he stopped thinking for a good 40 years of his life. Which is terrifying, to say the least.
"James? Are you even listening?" The doctor raised her over-outlined eyebrows.
"Hm? Yeah, yeah." He snapped his head back to her. " 'course."
"What did I just say, James?" Bucky flinched. He hadn't noticed the first time but he hated being called James. He didn't mind before all the brainwashing, but being called something he was called during years of torture is bound to leave some kind of psychological wound.
"My name is Bucky, Doc."
"Well, on the official documents it says James. James is your legal name, and this is a legal business. You're here mandatorily and I'm not gonna call you a nickname like I'm your friend. Now, what did I just say?"
Bucky's heart jumped anxiously in his ribcage.
"I don't know."
"So you weren't listening?"
"Not really." Bucky shrugged and smirked, enjoying annoying her. She puffed out a sigh, blowing a strand of hair. She rolled her eyes.
"James, you realise you can't just sit there and ignore me?"
"I'm notJames." He gritted out, anger bubbling in his chest.
"Please, James, just stop being difficult." She sighed. Bucky felt his stomach twist like she'd plunged a knife into it, and it quickly spiralled into nausea, saliva pooling in his mouth.
"Doc, can I use the bathroom?" He grinds out in frustration.
"You've used the bathroom twice since our visit!" She puffed.
Bucky knew this; it wasn't his fault he had bladder issues.
"I need to use it again." He grumbled, feeling the nausea build up again. He stifled a burp behind his closed fist.
"Fine. Two minutes. Don't even think about leaving." She responded and Bucky didn't have to be told twice. He raced out of the room as fast as humanely possible (bonus points for being a super soldier) and darted into the bathroom.
He leaned his head against the wooden door with a thump, trying to even his breathing out. A hand snaked around his stomach with a groan; he could feel all of his food churning disgustingly. He took some deep breaths to try and let the nausea subside but the saliva was building too quickly for him to swallow, so with a quick curse of, "Fuck!" under his breath he flipped up the lid of the toilet and knelt down in front of it.
He let his mouth hang open, drool dripping out in long, acidy strands. He spat again, feeling the churning getting worse. His heart rate fluttered and a warm, feverish chill flashes up his body, running down his arm and up his torso.
"Uhhh." He groaned quietly, feeling the swirling in his stomach reach a peak. He took a breath in to centre himself but it ended up getting caught on a gag and he pushed his head further forwards frantically, squeezing his eyes shut as his flesh and metal arm clutched the rim of the toilet seat hard, making his flesh arm turn white at the knuckles.
A torrent of acidic stomach contents spurted out of his mouth and splashed into the toilet water. Bucky whimpered, but didn't get time to breath in before the next retch caught him off guard, more vomit joining the rest. His stomach muscles contracted uncomfortably as various moans and gags tumbled out of his mouth.
"Jesus." He whispered when the bouts had stopped and he had chance to wipe his frothy mouth with his flesh hand before he was lurching forwards again. He felt tears prickling in the corners of his eyes as he gagged, moaning in pain. Soon he was openly sobbing, eyes squeezed shut as he hovered over the toilet shakily.
After a few more gross spits and scared sobs, he felt stable enough to pull the flush. He watched the clean water pull his vomit away and he moaned slowly, feeling relieved but awful as he was drenched in sweat, and anxious, and alone, and crying on the bathroom floor in the therapists office... He needs Steve.
His fingers trembled as he rummaged in his pocket and pulled out his phone. He still struggled with using these contraptions but he knew one thing; how to click onto Steve's contact. It had taken Peter about twelve times to teach him it accurately, Peter giggling and Bucky getting frustrated with the small, devilish device. "Piece of SHIT." Bucky would grumble.
"Come on, Mr White Wolf. Just press that."
When Bucky realised clicking buttons is easier with flesh fingers than with metal fingers, 3 broken phones later and a very angry Tony Stark, he'd called Steve.
And now, on the bathroom floor, he called Steve. He picked up on the 3rd ring and Bucky lifted his phone to his ear.
"Hey, Buck. Things goin' okay?" Bucky couldn't help but feel guilty at Steve's optimistic tone. He wants Steve to think he's trying his best.
"No..." Bucky mumbled, sobbing still. Steve's tone changed from hopeful to concerned. "What's up, baby?" He asked.
"I... I threw up." Bucky whispered, feeling embarrassed suddenly. He called Steve from his mandatory therapy because he was a little sick? Pathetic. He's 106 years old, for God's sake! But Steve's tone just softened impossibly kinder.
"Oh, darlin'." He whispered and Bucky let out another sob at the compassion in his voice.
"I'm sorry, Steve. I tried to do it... I..."
I tried to be normal, I swear. I tried to make you proud.
"Hey, what you apologising for? Shh. I'll come and pick you up right now." Bucky can here distant chatter in the background and the unmistakable shriek of a certain spider kiddo. He's at the compound, then. He heard Steve jingling his keys.
"Buck, stay on the phone with me, okay? Did you manage to make it to the bathroom okay? Were you feelin' sick earlier?"
Bucky felt himself smile at Steve's overprotectiveness, even through his tears. He liked feeling cared for.
"i- I made it. I. jus' started feeling off now. She was - she -" Bucky gagged harshly again.
"Fucks sake." He whispered softly, manoeuvring himself in front of the toilet again. He let out a groan.
"Buck? Darling? You okay-?" Steve's voice reverberated through the phone before Bucky retched, the sound echoing around the porcelain bowl.
"Oh, baby." Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth sympathetically. Bucky heard the car starting up over the sounds of himself gagging. Nothing came up but some bile and he whimpered softly.
"Hurts, Stevie."
"I know, babe. I'm nearly there. Try and take some deep breaths for me." He instructed and Bucky tried.
"Steve, I need you." Bucky cried out.
"Shhh, shh. I know. I'm on my way, baby boy." Steve tried soothing.
"O-Okay." Bucky tried calming himself down. Steve was coming. He's going to be here soon.
Bucky felt his eyes begin to droop and he lay down on the cold tiles of the floor, feeling too weak and sick to do anything else. Then he heard footsteps.
"Buck?" Steve!
"Can you open the door for me, babe?"
Bucky begrudgingly lifted his aching body up to reach for the door lock and twist it anticlockwise. His Steve walked in, panting and soaking with rain. Bucky hadn't even realised it was raining.
"Hi." Bucky whispered softly, his heart feeling more relaxed already at the sight of the bedraggled blonde man in the doorway.
"Hey, Buck." Steve walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He walked over to Bucky and smoothed his fingers through his hair, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead.
"Can I clean you up a bit, sweetheart?" Steve asked gently and Bucky nodded feebly.
Steve set to using baby wipes he'd brought to wipe off Bucky's drooly chin and neck, kissing him gently on the lips as he did.
"Steve she - She called me..."
Bucky couldn't even get the words out but Steve's eyes widened. He understood.
"She did?? That... that cow." Bucky giggled at his lack of profanities.
"Well, I'm here now baby. And I'll tell you now, you aren't seeing her again." He said firmly, determination in his eyebrows.
"How are you feeling now though?" His face softened again.
"Sick." Bucky mumbled.
"Poor baby." Steve murmured, pulling Bucky up to a standing position and pulling him into a hug. "Let's get you home, hm? Wanna watch a movie?"
"Yes, please." Bucky responded, muffled into Steve's neck.