I'm Not Scared of You

POV Bucky Barnes

I open my eyes in a cold, dark room.
My hair falls onto my face, sticking to the fine layer of sweat along my forehead.
I lift my hand to move it away, only to find my wrists restrained tightly to the chair beneath me.

“Soldier.” A man says in Russian as he steps into the room.

No.
I pull against the metal restrains with my vibranium arm, working to pry myself free, but it’s no use.

“Longing.” The man says in the same, even voice.
Vivid memories of the 40’s flash before my eyes.
Memories of my home, my family, my friends.
Memories of Steve.

I groan loudly, trying to drown out his voice with my own.

“Rusted.” He continues.
My left arm automatically clenches into a fist, the memories of severing it at the shoulder burn through my nerves with the memories of the heavy, metal arm being shoved into its place.
I scream, still pulling against the chair, fighting to get free to no avail.

“Furnace.” He says as he steps closer.
The intense fire that burns through my body every time I’m defrosted for a mission courses through my veins, sending new beads of sweat dripping down my face.
My scream wavers as the familiar fog starts to cloud my mind.

“Daybreak.” He continues, his voice still calm and even.
The Hydra codeword for the new team of assassins, the team I’ve led to kill hundreds of people.
I try to scream louder, knowing I have to fight his control.

“Seventeen.” He says, unphased by my screams.
My temporary identity, test subject number seventeen.
The only successful test subject thus far.
My heart hammers against my ribs as the sounds of metal scraping metal fills the room, but the restraints don’t give.

“Benign.” The man says, more than halfway through the list now.
The warning that any moment I can be wiped and frozen again, the reminder that I am no more than a piece of Hydra’s property.
The fog in my head swirls wildly, sedating me as I give up on slamming my arm against the chair.

“Nine.” He continues, stepping behind me now.
The nine heads of the Greek myth of the Hydra, the symbol that decorated every spare inch of the test room at the first camp.
The world narrows as the only sound in the room seems to be this man and his voice.

“Homecoming.” He says, his voice filling the space between us.
The reminder that once the mission is over, I will always return home to Hydra.
My pulse slows drastically as I collapse against the chair.

“One.” The man says as he steps back in front to face me.
I am alone.
The Winter Soldier.
His eyes meet mine with a wicked grin.

“Freight car.” He says finally, and my head drops automatically.
Falling from the train.
Steve’s face as I plummeted into the icy river below, shattering every bone on my left side.
Complete darkness.

Everything inside of me tells me to scream, to fight this.
But the fog is too heavy, too powerful to overcome as it presses down on me, forcing me to succumb.

“Ready to comply.” I mutter, the Russian voice spilling from my lips sounding entirely foreign to the deepest parts of me, but the fog making it impossible to care.

“You have a mission, Winter Soldier.” The man states, closing his book with a clap and tucking it away.
I say nothing, clenching my jaw as tightly as I can.

“Today you will kill Steve Rogers, more commonly known as Captain America.” He says in a lower voice.

Kill Steve Rogers.
Kill Captain America.

Steve Rogers.

No.

I know Steve.
The fog fights me, pushing back.

“Soldier.” The man says in a stern voice, waiting for a reply.
Every ounce of my being fights against the fog, but it’s too strong.

“You will kill Steve Rogers.” The man says again. “Is that clear?”
I scream, ripping apart everything inside of me, but the icy exterior of the Solider stays silent.

“Yes.” The Soldier says in a detached voice.
I fight again as the fog thickens, trying desperately to stop the horrors before me from happening.

But it’s no use.
I open my mouth again to scream, and the fog takes me under—

___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

“Bucky.” Someone says, shaking me. “Bucky! Wake up.”
I open my eyes, staring into the wide, brown eyes of Sam Wilson.

He’s on the side of the bed, kneeling in front of me as I lay tangled in the sheets, breathing erratically.
My grey t-shirt and the sheets surrounding me are damp with sweat, my hair sticks to my forehead.

“Hey man.” He says in a low voice. “You okay?”

He’s shirtless, his eyes still tired from sleep.
I must’ve woken him up.
I knew this was a bad idea.

“Yeah I’m good.” I breathe, my voice raspy and unsure as I sit up, pushing my hair back with a shaky hand. “I’m sorry.”
He glares at me.

“So you just scream in the night when you’re good?” He asks. “I’d hate to see what would happen if you weren’t.”
He smiles softly.
I take a deep breath.

“Just nightmares.” I answer. “About—you know. Him.”
Sam nods.

“The Winter Soldier?” He asks.
The name sends my heart sputtering again.

“Right.” I answer, shifting uncomfortably. “Look, I warned you that living with me was going to be a bad idea. I’m going to keep you up every night.”
He laughs as he stands up.

“Look Buck.” He says, stretching. “We’re friends. And friends don’t let slightly unstable, ex-assassin friends go through shit like this alone.”
I force a tight-lipped smile up at him.

My eyes trail down his bare, dark, smooth chest once before realizing I haven’t replied.
“Right.” I answer again, forcing my eyes to meet his again. “Thanks.”

He smiles, cocking one eyebrow at me.
“Move over weirdo.” He says, leaning onto the bed.

My heart accelerates again as he climbs gracefully onto my bed.
“Look Sam you don’t have to—”

“Chill out, Bucky.” He says, his voice lower now, nervous almost. “I want to.”
I nod.

We sit in silence for a moment, neither of us moving, our skin hardly touching under the blanket.
“Do you want to… come closer..?” He asks hesitantly, opening one arm out for me to duck under.

I take a shaky breath before moving closer, moving under his arm and resting my body against his.
My breath catches as my skin comes into contact with his.
It’s softer than I would’ve thought, but definitely stretched over hard muscle.
He hesitantly puts his arm back down, circling it around my shoulders and resting his fingertips along the metal bicep of my left arm.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks softly, his other arm reaching across his body and resting gently on my hip.

“I uh—it was about Steve.” I stammer, unable to talk casually with him being this close to me, mentally kicking myself for bringing this up when he’s in my bed.
He nods.

“What about Steve?” He asks.

“When they asked—commanded me to kill him.” I whisper.
He nods again.

“It’s over Bucky.” He whispers. “You’re safe here.”

Now I nod, feeling his breath as it dances along my skin.
I take another shaking breath as I reach my arm across my own body, running a finger along Sam’s arm.
He shudders lightly at the metallic touch, and I pull away, disgusted with myself.

But he catches my hand in his, pulling it back.
I look up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m not scared of you, Buck.” He whispers, his eyes searching mine.

He studies my face as his had releases mine, reaching up and pushing my hair behind my ear.
My breathing hitches in my throat, neither of us dares to look away.

His fingers gently slide down my jawline, tracing delicately over the contours of my skin as his face inches closer to mine.
I lean closer hesitantly, and his hand circles around my cheek, pulling my lips to his.

I gasp at the sudden heat of his lips on mine, and he kisses me deeper, his fingers sliding backwards into my hair.
My hand trails up his body, along his stomach, across his chest, my fingers tracing the planes of his skin until my hand is gently holding his waist, pulling him closer to me.
He leans back after a moment, brushing his nose along mine softly.

“You want me to stay?” He murmurs, his fingertips running along my cheek.
I smile as I lean into his touch.

“Yes.” I whisper, looking into his dark, welcoming eyes.
He smiles now, laying down in my bed and pulling me tightly against his chest.

“Go to sleep Bucky.” He murmurs. “I’ll be right here.”

His hands run soft designs along my back as I close my eyes, slipping into the first peaceful sleep I’ve had in decades.