Accidents, Nightmares, Comfort
Bucky screams as fire rips through his head. He struggles against whatever’s keeping him trapped, twisting and rolling, trying to get away.
A hand touches his shoulder, and he flinches away from the touch, lurching to get as far away as the ropes binding him down will let him. Something gives, ripping, and he tries to scramble away.
He falls off the table that they had tied him to, scurrying away. But he trips and falls, landing hard. Unable to break his fall because the bindings are still around his arms, around his torso.
Bucky strains at the ropes, still screaming, and feels them give. A moment later, he’s done his best to shed them and runs in the direction of the door. Falls again.
They’re on him before he can right himself. Hands on his arms, pulling him back.
With a cry, he turns and punches at whoever is closest, determined to not be caught again. He won’t go back onto that table, they can’t make him.
It doesn’t do much good. The hands remain, and are more insistent now. He shouts, and gets a solid punch in. Before his enemy can recover he gets his hand around the man’s throat, shoving him into the wall. The man hits at his wrist, trying to break the hold, but it does no good. Bucky bares his teeth at the man. Once he’s unconscious, Bucky will be able to run, to leave.
But he made a mistake. Bucky’s too close to him.
The man brings his knee up into Bucky’s groin, and he falls. The man is on him in an instant, wrestling him until his metal arm is trapped between Bucky’s back and the man’s chest. Legs trap Bucky’s down. One hand grips Bucky's flesh hand around his waist, and the other, firm holding his head back, his throat exposed. That more than anything frightened him.
Bucky screams, trying to throw the man off, but it’s no use. They’re too strong. He wriggles, whimpering, knowing how this is going to end, but can’t help fighting it anyway.
But there’s no other hands on him. No one is shooting. No electricity. No needles. Just the man holding him. He slows his movements, but can’t help his frightened cries.
There’s a voice in his ear. Soft, calm, soothing. He recognizes it.
“I’m so sorry, Bucky, but it’s okay. I promise it’s going to be okay. It’s just me, you're safe. I’m not going to hurt you. We’re in our room, it was just a bad dream, you’re going to be okay..” And on and on.
He wants to believe it, doesn’t know if he can. But he’s tired, and getting nowhere. He slumps and stops resisting.
“Buck? Bucky, are you okay? Bucky,” the man says, frantic suddenly. He releases Bucky, moving around so he’s hovering over him, instead of behind him. Bucky doesn’t move. He starts shivering, probably from left over adrenaline. The hands move to his face, and Bucky flinches.
“Shhh, it’s just me, baby,” he says. Bucky looks up into the man’s face, and Steve looks back at him, worried.
Bucky, on the other hand, is horrified. Steve has a rapidly forming black eye, a swollen cheek, and Bucky’s hand print around his neck.
He breaks Steve’s hold on his face, scurrying back until he hits the wall, breathing hard still. Steve holds his hands up where Bucky can see, heartbreak written across his face.
“It’s just me, it’s Steve, Buck. You’re safe. I’m-”
“You’re not,” Bucky croaks, throat raw from screaming. Steve looks back at him sadly.
“I’m Steve, I promise-” Bucky shakes his head. He knows that. He knows he’s talking to Steve. But Steve’s not safe with Bucky. He’s hurt him. And he promised himself he would never do that again.
“Can I come over there?” Steve asks, gently. Bucky frantically shakes his head. It doesn’t matter how much Bucky wants to have Steve wrap around him, hold him together, he won’t risk hurting him again.
“Alright, okay,” Steve says, hurt in his voice. Bucky flinches at it. Better sad than dead, though. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I know,” Bucky snaps, then flinches back.
“Okay, good, that’s great,” Steve soothes, still holding his hands up slightly. “Do you know where you are?” Bucky nods. “Can you tell me?”
“Avengers Tower. Your floor,” Bucky mumbles, still shivering. He looks down.
“That’s right, sweetheart. We’re on our floor,” Steve says, putting an emphasis on our. Normally Bucky would roll his eyes, but he can’t right now. “Do you know who I am?”
“Steve.”
Bucky glances up, and Steve seems to deflate in relief.
“Yeah, yes, I’m Steve,” he starts to move closer, and Bucky presses himself further back into the wall. “Okay, okay, you’re alright Buck, I’m not going to hurt you, remember? You’re safe.”
“You’re not,” Bucky repeats. Steve frowns, lowering his hands into his lap. Bucky shivers again. Steve frowns harder, concerned.
“I’m safe too, Buck. No one’s going to hurt us. I promise. We’re safe here.”
Bucky shakes his head violently, rejecting the statement.
“I hurt you,” he says, voice quivering.
“Oh..” Steve says. He lifts a hand to his face, as if he had forgotten. “It’s alright, it was an accident.”
Bucky shakes his head again.
Steve comes closer, and Bucky scoots down the wall, away. It doesn’t deter Steve, who slowly makes his way over, telegraphing his moves. Bucky’s in a corner now, and Steve is in front of him. He gently takes Bucky’s hands and places them on his face.
Bucky looks into his eyes, seeing trust and love. His own eyes fill, and he bursts into tears.
Steve gathers him up, holding him close, rocking them back and forth.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Bucky sobs into Steve’s shoulder. He grips the front of Steve’s shirt, and Steve pets his hair.
“It was an accident, Buck. It’s alright. You were scared, it’s okay. I promise.”
Bucky wants to point out how much of an idiot Steve is, remind him that he’s almost killed him before. But he can’t get the words out around his sobbing. And Steve holds him so gently, so much more than he deserves, and he can’t stop.
He shakes and weeps, and Steve rocks them as he gently murmurs to Bucky that everything will be alright. Promising that they’re okay. That this was an accident, that Steve loves him.
It feels like forever before he’s done crying. When he is, he whispers, “I’m sorry,” one more time.
Steve just kisses the top of his head instead.
“Getting your shirt gross,” Bucky mumbles, although he doesn’t move away.
“I don’t care,” Steve murmurs. Bucky nods. “Want to talk about it?” Bucky shudders and shakes his head.
“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispers again.
“I’ll be better tomorrow,” Steve murmurs into Bucky’s hair. Bucky shudders again, but doesn’t argue. Too tired for it tonight. He’ll do it in the morning.
Some time later, Steve says, “In a minute, we’re going to get up and drink some water. Then we’re going to wash our faces and change into some different clothes. Then we’re going to go back to bed, ok?” Bucky nods.
Steve pulls back enough to kiss Bucky’s forehead, before slowly pulling them both up. He wraps a comforting arm around Bucky’s shoulders and they walk into the kitchen. They both get a glass of water, although Steve insists Bucky drink two. Bucky does as he’s told. He’s got a lot to make up for, and doing what Steve says is the least he can do. They walk into the bathroom, washing their faces and brushing their teeth again. Steve sneaks away to grab some different clothes and they change there in the bathroom. When they're done, Bucky lets Steve walk into the bedroom first, standing in the doorway.
Their sheets are ripped from where Bucky had struggled to get out of them. Their blankets are on the floor, and Bucky distantly wonders if that’s what he kept tripping on.
Steve scoops up the blankets and drops them back on the bed. He tugs what’s left of the sheets out and tosses them in the direction of the hamper. Bucky watches him tug at the blankets to make them useful for the rest of the night. He stands in the doorway, arms tight around his waist.
When Steve’s done, he turns back to Bucky with a small smile on his face. But Bucky can only see the damage he’s done. Both to Steve and to their room.
“Maybe I should sleep on the couch tonight,” Bucky mumbles, looking away. Steve crosses the room to him in a couple of steps. He carefully takes Bucky’s metal hand in both of his and raises it to his lips.
“If you don’t want to go back to sleep, that’s fine, Buck. We can stay up and watch movies, or make breakfast, or anything,” he whispers against Bucky’s fingers. Bucky shivers, although he can’t feel anything more than the vibrations of Steve’s voice. “But I want to be here with you, I want you with me, tonight. If you want to go to bed, let’s go to bed, okay?”
Bucky doesn’t trust his voice, but nods. Steve smiles and kisses his hand again.
“What do you want to do, Buck?” Bucky looks at the ground, flesh arm still wrapped around his waist, and shrugs.
Steve tangles his fingers with Bucky’s, and uses his other hand to rub gentle circles in Bucky’s neck. After a couple long minutes, he speaks up again.
“Why don’t we lay down? If you decide that’s not going to work, we’ll move to the couch, okay?”
Bucky closes his eyes and nods again. Steve leans in and kisses his temple, before gently tugging Bucky to the bed. He arranges them so that Steve is flat on his back, Bucky resting on top of him, his head over Steve’s heart. Steve still has his arms wrapped gently around him.
Bucky doesn’t tell Steve he doesn’t think he’ll sleep. Won’t let himself sleep. Not if it means hurting him again. But that sentiment is harder to hang on to as Steve gently massages his scalp, humming.
Almost against his will, his eyes slip shut, and he falls into a dreamless sleep.