Bucky
Bucky curled around himself in his nest. He hated long nights like this one.
Nightmares and memories warred inside of him.
Nights like this, he fought tooth and nail against the longing inside of him. The more he remembered, the more he wanted to go back to Steve. He knew that somehow Steve would know exactly what to do. He felt phantom embraces and stolen kisses— But he couldn’t go back!
It was safer this way.
But he still wanted Steve. He didn't think he'd ever not want Steve.
Everything hurt in the morning. His arm was stiff. His head throbbed. His stomach was queasy. He groaned; he'd rather stay in bed, but he wouldn't be getting any more sleep. Instead of going downstairs and starting breakfast, he found himself drawn to the room.
He'd stocked it with his softest blankets. He'd painted the walls a pastel orange. He'd even found a stuffed Captain America Bear. He knew it was too early, but he'd had to repress everything under Hydra. He had to even convince himself that it didn't exist.
Now, he couldn't deny it.
The evidence was overwhelming.
He didn't know how it was possible, but somehow, it was.
Somehow Hydra hadn't been able to take it from him.
***
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