The Kid's Aren't Alright
Despite having forgiven Steve for his idiocy, Bucky remained quiet and withdrawn for the rest of the evening.
He sat quietly and didn’t protest when Becca berated and coddled him in equal measures for his busted knuckles. The way he stared off into the distance when she began wrapping them was downright frightening. Maybe Steve would have been as concerned as Becca and Tim obviously were if he hadn’t seen Bucky like this once before.
With startling clarity, Steve recalled their trip back from the Alps. They’d had Zola with them, having captured the scientist despite the fact the train was all one big trap. Only the grace of God, - and Steve insistence that Bucky be trained in using the shield -, prevented Bucky from being blasted right off the train to a grisly death below. At the time, Steve had thought his friend’s quiet withdrawn behaviour on the trip back was a result of another barely missed appointment with the reaper.
Now he knew better.
The serum had given him a near perfect memory. Steve could recall even the tiniest of details of a moment if he thought back hard enough.
He didn’t need to think back that hard to remember the way Zola had smiled every time he caught sight of Bucky. How those beady eyes had tracked the Sergeant’s every move; calculating and oh so pleased. It was only with informed hindsight that Steve was able to understand what that gaze had been about. And why it had bothered Bucky so much.
It made Steve wish that he would’ve wrung Zola’s neck instead of delivering him into the hands of the SSR. Or, at the very least, punched him in the mouth over and over until he had no teeth left to smile with. But he hadn’t. And seventy years in the future? Zola would be long dead. Steve could do nothing to avenge the suffering of his best friend. All he could do now was be there for him.
So Steve did what he’d done the entire trip back from the Alps. What he’d done every night and day until Bucky had started to be himself again. He sat silently beside Bucky, shoulder’s and thighs brushing. A warm comfort that Bucky wasn’t alone. When Becca and Tim hovered uncertainly; looking like they wanted to make a comment every time Bucky pulled forth a smile that was thinner than paper; Steve would shake his head, warning them off.
Bucky remained quiet when Becca led them upstairs to take advantage of a spare room with two comfy looking beds; beds that they had been in no fit state to utilise the last time they’d stayed. Bucky hadn’t even waited for his sister to leave before stripping his boots and hoodie off and climbing into the bed, front facing the wall; back muscles tight and tense under the duvet.
“Well, goodnight then.” Becca issued quietly, troubled gaze on Bucky’s back. “If there’s anything you need-,”
“We’ll be fine now, Becca. Thank you.” Steve interrupted, smiling kindly to her. “Goodnight.”
Becca cast one last glance at her brother before nodding and taking the dismissal as it was.
Steve pulled off his own boots but didn’t bother to remove his hoodie. He didn’t get under the cover of his own bed, just sat on top with his shoulders against the headboard and waited.
Hours later, long after the house had gone silent; and Steve’s own eyelids had betrayed him by going heavy and falling shut; Bucky began letting out panicked moans in his sleep. Moans that were all too quick to turn to screams as he thrashed desperately in his sleep, tangled up in his blankets.
Steve was up and moving on the first scream. He scrambled across the room to wake his best friend.
Hands on his friend’s bare shoulders, Steve shook him and called his name. He took the hit to the face when Bucky came up swinging, just so he could yank his friend into a tight hug. Bucky was as tense as a wooden board in his grip for all of a minute before he fisted hands tight in the back of Steve’s hoodie and fell shaking into the embrace.
They sat like that for a long time. The only sound to be heard was their own too loud breathing and the settling of the house. If they’d managed to wake Tim or Becca, neither came to investigate.
Steve didn’t dare let go until Bucky pulled back. In the shadow of darkness, he examined his friend’s drawn face.
“You think you could get some more sleep?”
“Yeah,” Bucky slumped back down onto his bed. He scooted himself sideways and didn’t look over when Steve flopped down onto the newly created space. A huffed laugh did escape him when Steve spent the next three minutes shuffling about. The bed was just the wrong side of too small to fit them both comfortably.
“Comfy?” He asked once Steve had gone still.
“Shuddup and go to sleep,” Steve grumbled good naturedly.
Bucky let out another huffed laugh at the teasing before going silent.
Early morning light was seeping in from a crack in the curtain the next time Bucky woke them up. He didn’t need Steve to wake him this time. Bucky sat bolt upright, scream lodged in his throat as his chest heaved up and down.
Steve’s hand landed on his elbow; a gentle hold intended only to help ground him. Bucky held onto the feel of it as he tried to bite back his panic and slow his breathing.
“Alright?” Steve asked only once Bucky’s breathing started to level out a bit.
Bucky grunted. Steve’s hand fell off when Bucky brought his own two hands up to scrub at his face. He was tired still but the idea of sleep was the very last thing he wanted.
“I need a smoke,” He declared. Steve was blocking him in against the wall but the two of them had been sharing beds on and off for years. There was a comfortableness that came only from being best friends since childhood. Bucky wasted no time throwing himself over Steve. He didn’t even care when he accidentally planted his hand on Steve’s face to leverage himself up – though he did enjoy the squawk it gained him. Bucky threw a grin at his friend as he climbed to his feet.
“You want some company?”
Bucky shook his head, nabbing his discarded hoodie from the floor. His boots were in a discarded pile at the end of the bed and that’s exactly where he left them as he plodded barefoot to the door.
“Nah. You should get some more sleep,” Bucky said, pulling his hoodie over his head and reaching blindly for the door handle.
“You sure?”
Bucky rolled his eyes, the motion no doubt wasted on his friend with the darkness of the room. “‘m fine, Stevie, Christ. Just go back to sleep.” He closed the door behind him, quiet but for the small snick the latch gave.
Creeping through the house was made infinitely easier without his heavy tactical boots. Bucky made it almost entirely down the stairs without a single sound. The third step from the bottom creaked with his weight but it was a small enough noise that hopefully it wouldn’t wake his sister and her husband.
The smokes were sat snugly in the front pocket of his hoodie, where he’d stuffed them the night before. He snatched the packet out as he made his way to the front door. Settling into a sitting position on the front stoop, Bucky pulled out a cigarette and lit up in the cool grey morning light.