Ignore It
He laid completely still, shoulders drawing up towards his ears and his jaw tight, teeth clenched with frustration. He had only slept less than a few hours last night, nightmares waking him up at every better part of his sleep. His eyes would close, he would drift wearily in the middle of consciousness and a light sleep. He would be waiting for a nightmare to come and take hold of him once he drifted into any kind of sleep where he wasn't aware.
It would happen eventually, when he did let himself fall into a sleep, exhaustion pushing harder than fear. His eyes would relax from scrunched shut to a gentle close. His mind would get used to being asleep and his muscles would slowly start to become loose instead of drawn tight.
Then the images would flash in his head, terrifying things that have happened to him, things that he has done. Terrible, terrible things that he has done to others as the Winter Soldier, things that he should have realized were wrong and been able to stop himself from -
When his mind wasn't constantly pushing away the nightmares and he had his eyes closed, they would come at full force. His mind did its best to terrify him to the point that it would jerk him awake, body full of sweat, eyes with tears in them and more than half the time laying in a wet spot on his bed, his pants soaked with an accident. Like he was two years old. He would use his arm to wipe his forehead, ignoring its shaking and digging his palms into his eyes to stop the tears over the nightmare, and his accident that he didn't deserve to let fall.
He knew he should get out of bed and stop torturing himself with a tease of sleep and clean himself up. He couldn't bring himself to get up, his bed had been so warm and even if he couldn't fall asleep in it, he wanted to lay in it just for the warmth and comfort it provided. He heard the little voice in his head that said he didn't deserve any of that, that the people he hurt - hurt and killed he reminded himself, his shaking only got worse - didn't get warmth and comfort, so why should he? He did his best to ignore the uncomfortable wet spot in his pants, trying not to move around too much, so he didn't have to acknowledge it. Reminding himself that it was just another consequence of everything he did.
Tonight was bad, he could remember their faces, see their eyes full of fear, begging him to not make them take their last breath, he's pretty sure that's why he had an accident too. Normally, he couldn't remember their faces, he knew what they looked like but didn't remember. It was like humming a tune but not being able to remember the words.
Listening to music sounded nice right now, like it would be able to relax his muscles and calm his mind enough for him to sleep. He almost wanted to ask FRIDAY to play something, then thought better of it. Something in his head stopped him, it wasn't that little voice that reminds him of his mistakes. He was the one stopping himself, it was his own voice telling him he shouldn't indulge in the small things. He just needed to deal with the consequences from his actions.
His eyes dropped heavily again, and now he could hear a soundless song playing in his head that he craved to hear. He opened his mouth to ask FRIDAY to play a song, just something to distract him enough to fall asleep for a little bit, even though he knew FRIDAY would force him to clean up the mess of his accident before he went to sleep, he still wanted to ask.
He knew it would work, the music. It worked all the time in the forties, soft music playing on his and Steve's cheap radio. The sound of it was usually low and occasionally interrupted by static, but it worked. On nights he or Steve were kept awake from small things, he would turn the radio on and cuddle close to Steve. He didn't do that now though, he didn't let himself be cuddled, or held, or even touched most of the time.
And now he was thinking of Steve wrapped in his arms, usually shivering from the cold and cuddling into Bucky's body heat. He wondered what it would feel like to have Steve curled around his back, holding him instead of the other way around. When Steve was small he didn't really like to cuddle behind Bucky - he had before but he said he didn't like it, felt far away from Bucky because he was too small - so when they cuddled, Steve usually just turned so they were chest to chest and hugged Bucky close. Now though, now that Steve was bigger and taller than him, he wondered what it would feel like to be held like that. Cuddled and protected, warm arms around him and -
No, he reminded himself, muscles tensing again even though he hadn't realized they relaxed, he didn't get to want that. A sob welled up in his chest, rising into his throat and almost choking him before he could get himself under some kind of control, using his metal hand to pinch the skin on his flesh wrist and digging his teeth into his lip. It wasn't really control, it was just causing just enough pain to take over the hollow feeling in his chest. He knew it wasn't good to do that to himself but he would heal before morning, before anyone could notice it. Even if it was just a bruise, if he kept having them on his arm, someone - Steve - would probably notice. It worked well enough, the tears were stopped now and the hollow feeling in his chest was pretty much gone.
He looked at the finger shaped bruise on his arm from pinching himself, he did this before too. Before the war, before Hydra, before everything went to shit. Steve used to yell at him for it, when he would have fingerprint bruises on the underside if his wrist. Then Steve would hug him, and demand Bucky tell him next time he was hurting so much he had to do that to himself. Bucky would just shrug and say it wasn't a big deal, that Steve got worse bruises going out and fighting guys twice his size. Steve never answered him, just cuddled closer.
And goddamnit, he thought, kicking the gross blankets away from where they were kind of sticking to his legs from being wet and tangled around him from his constant tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable to sleep. He wasn't supposed to be thinking of being comforted, even if it was in the past, because then he would start to crave to actually be held. He didn't deserve that... but, fuck, he wanted that so bad. He wanted to be held, he wanted Steve to -
More tears sprang to his eyes, but he easily blinked them away. He tried to reason with himself, that Steve wouldn't want to cuddle with him anymore because of his nightmares. Steve wouldn't want to deal with those... and the accidents. Wetting the bed wasn't a rare thing for him anymore, ever since Hydra he woke up with a wet bed at least once a week.
"Mr. Barnes."
"What?" He bit out, trying to hide his embarrassment with anger.
"You seem to have had another accident, I would recommend -"
"Shut up." He swung his legs over the side of the bed to start cleaning himself and his bed up, then to get rid of the evidence of his accident. No way he wanted anyone to know about this.
He knew how to clean up after an accident by now, but now he had been thinking about Steve and how well the two of them had taken care of each other before the war and he wanted -
"Fuck," he cut his thoughts off with his angry word and threading his fingers in his hair, tugging hard, trying to pull the thoughts out if his head.
"Would you like me to alert Captain Rogers, you appear to be -"
"Shut up, FRIDAY." He pulled all the blankets off his bed, his accident hadn't left the two layers of blankets dry. He stared at them in distaste, he kept asking himself why, why, why did he have to do this. He couldn't just control his own fucking bladder? Then he had to remind himself that this was just part of his punishment for all the things he did.
"FRIDAY," His voice was much softer now, after yelling at the AI. He found himself feeling bad, even though he knew FRIDAY didn't have feelings to hurt.
"Yes, Mr. Barnes?" She asked, voice unaffected from his previous yelling.
"Is Steve awake?" He needed to go put these in the washing machine, but if Steve was awake, as he was most of the time, Bucky would have to go wash his sheets in his bathroom sink. Then, put them in the dryer in the morning when Steve wasn't there to question him why.
"Yes, would you like me to call him to -"
"No," he said quickly, panic in his voice at the thought of Steve figuring out he wet himself from a nightmare. "Lock my door please."
"Of course."
He threw his wet blankets behind him, on the floor by the bathroom. He threw the pillows near his nightstand, those having stayed dry, and pulled the fitted sheet off. It joined the pile by his bathroom door, along with his soaking pajama pants, boxers and shirt, which had also gotten wet. He felt another sob well up in his chest, but he just pinched his wrist over where the other bruise had begun to form, until it went away.
He grabbed the first pair of pajamas - a white shirt, and gray sweats - in the drawer, and a clean pair of boxers, before walking off to the bathroom to clean everything.
He ignored his tears as he kicked the pile of wet sheets into the bathroom, and set his dry pajamas on the sink. He showered quickly, not giving himself the chance to enjoy the way the warm water relaxed him. He didn't even wash his hair, just scrubbed his skin red to distract himself from the relaxing water. He was telling himself he didn't deserve to relax right now, he just needed to clean himself so he didn't smell.
Barely drying himself off, leaving water drops on his back and legs, he pulled the pajamas on. He cleaned the sheets as best he could in the sink, and threw them in the shower so they would get anything else wet while they started to dry.
He balled the towel that he used to dry himself off and shoved it in the sink, turning it around and around under the stream of water until it was wet. He squeezed it over the sink and grabbed a second dry towel from the closet. He used the wet towel to clean the mattress where wetness had soaked through the sheets.
"To avoid stains, I recommend that you clean it with -"
"Shut up."
He scrubbed the mattress with the wet towel for a long time, there were already a few stains on his bed, some of them fading away already and others a bit more recent ones that he hadn't hadn't cleaned well enough. He did his best not to think about what Steve would have to say about this. He imagined Steve calling him a baby, making fun of him, laughing and telling the rest of the Avengers that the feared Winter Soldier had wet the bed.
He scrubbed the bed harder when more tears came to his eyes, he asked himself if his eyes would realize that no matter how much he tears up, he wasn't going to cry.
"Mr. Barnes, I believe the bed is clean as it can be now."
Bucky stopped, his hand shaking slightly, and his human arm felt as heavy as his metal one. He blinked a few times, his anger at himself faded into irritation. He threw the wet towel into the bathroom, making a splat sound on the floor, laid out the dry towel over the wet spot. He couldn't even put the extra sheets from his closet onto the bed because it was wet.
He left his room to go get water to drink, his throat felt dry. He walked out with heavy feet, irritated with himself and the voices battling in his head with memories of him and Steve cuddling and holding each other, and telling himself he didn't deserve that any more.
He walked fast to the kitchen, searching for a glass in the cabinet and just filled it up with tap water. He slammed the cabinet door shut, still angry with himself and turned quickly to go back to his room. He stopped as if he ran into a wall after only three steps, because Steve was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching him with concerned and sleepy eyes.
He almost dropped his water, "Did I wake you up?" No, he knew he didn't before he asked. Steve was still in his jeans and shirt he had worn that day, and he asked FRIDAY if Steve was awake and he forgot. Stupid. He still asked, instead of standing there like an idiot in silence. He should have just taken a handful of tap water from his bathroom sink to drink or something, he would have avoided seeing Steve.
"Nope, I'm still doing mission reports." He nodded his head to the living room where there were papers spread out all over the coffee table.
"Steve, you need to sleep."
Steve just shrugged, "Me? You looked like you haven't slept since the forties."
His turn to shrug, he really hadn't slept good since the forties, cuddling close to Steve, but for about the thousandth time that night he repeated to himself that he didn't deserve that anymore. It wasn't like he hadn't slept, just sometimes nightmares kept him up.
"Buck," Steve's voice was full of emotion that Bucky couldn't pinpoint, he mostly sounded sad, but there was more to it. "I know it's different then when we were in the forties, everything was... not as hard." Easy wasn't the word to describe it. "But you're different, like really different."
"I'm sorry." He took a sip of water to keep his gaze away from Steve.
"No, no, don't be. I was just wondering why things are so different... between us now, ya' know. You just never talk to me, or anyone else really. It's like you're isolating yourself, Bucky. I'm just -"
"Sorry." He said again, shrinking in on himself. "I - I - um.."
"I'm just worried, that's all, nothing for you to be sorry about."
"But... but I -" He didn't even know what to say other than he was doing it to himself, for Steve not to worry, he was fine.
"It's nightmares, right?" Steve's eyes were wide and concerned again, "The reason you aren't sleeping?"
"Yeah," Bucky's voice cracked but Steve ignored it, any other time he would have teased him about it.
"Wanna talk?"
He shook his head this time.
"Wanna sit with me or are you gonna go back to sleep."
Bucky heard the voice again, telling him not to indulge in the small comforts. He was going to say no, he honestly was, he was going to lie to Steve and tell him he was going to go back to his room and going to sleep, then lay awake in bed until the sun came up. Then, without his permission: "I'll sit with you."
"C'mon." Steve reached for his hand, rolling his eyes when Bucky just stared at Steve's open palm, confused. Steve grabbed his wrist and pulled him close, walking them over to the couch with one arm over Bucky's shoulder.
Bucky's shoulders tensed, partly because of the unexpectedness of the touch. The other part was on purpose. He didn't want to let himself enjoy this because then he'd want it again. He scolded himself for even agreeing to go to the couch instead of back to his room.
Steve clicked the TV on and handed Bucky the remote, the TV was on some news station. "Watch whatever." Steve said grabbing his pen and started to sort through the mess of papers.
Bucky didn't change it. He didn't really know how to work the remote, they didn't have a TV in the forties - those didn't even have remotes - and he didn't go to the dumb team bonding movie nights Tony insisted on having. He thinks he could figure it out if it tried, he worked his phone easily enough - even though he only used it for missions, he didn't really talk to anyone unless he had to, he knew the other Avengers didn't like him and he was perfectly fine with it being like that. If they didn't get close to him, he couldn't hurt them. He just stared blankly at the news, didn't even hear what they were talking about.
Steve laughed softly, "You're gonna watch the news?"
"I - uh -" he blushed, "yeah."
Steve looked over at him with his eyes slightly narrowed. "Oh my god," he laughed and scooted closer to Bucky, "you don't know how to use the remote."
Bucky blushed more and Steve had this smile that Bucky couldn't help but return, no matter his embarrassment. He couldn't help but appreciate that Steve didn't mention anything about why he didn't know how to use the remote, that Bucky wasn't coming to the movie nights. Steve just learned in close, his shoulder pressed against Bucky's and went over what the buttons did.
It was easy enough, the power button was on the top, the button to flip through channels literally had arrows to show if he was going up or down in channel numbers. Steve showed him to go to the recorded shows and told him not to delete any of them because all the shows on there was one that the other Avengers had recorded (mostly Clint).
He flipped through the channels a few times, not finding that many interesting shows. Steve said it was probably because it was three am when Bucky settled on the boring news station again. Steve thought for a second, staring at the paper he had been writing on, when Bucky looked over at him, he realized how close he was sitting. Their legs were touching and Steve's body was turned slightly to face his, he must not have moved after he showed Bucky how to use the remote. Bucky's shoulders tensed again when he realized he was letting himself enjoy this - don't deserve it, don't deserve it - but the rest of him stayed mostly still, muscles relaxed. Steve muttered out a channel number after a few seconds, "It's a kids movie channel. I usually watch it when I'm up late, the noise helps me stay up and the plots are easy to follow when you aren't paying attention."
Bucky looked over and smiled easily when he saw Steve blushing. "Aw, is Stevie embarrassed?" He poked at Steve's cheek, which was colored a light red.
"No," he said, smiling back and pushing Bucky's hand away.
They relaxed into an easy silence after that, Bucky eventually relaxed, and leaned into Steve. The blond just smiled and continued his paperwork.
Steve was right, the movie was pretty interesting but easy to follow, Bucky felt slightly disappointed when the movie's end credits started playing. The movie was more interesting than any of the kid movies he'd seen in the forties. The characters were all brightly drawn and colored, very animated and happy.
"Do you wanna stay out here for the next one or go to bed? I'm pretty much done with this," he threw a hand in the direction of the now neatly stacked mission reports.
Bucky smiled up at Steve shyly from where he was tucked into Steve's side with Steve's arms over his relaxed shoulder, holding him. His body was relaxed, his brain felt quiet, not constantly bothering him with rules he set for himself on what he could and couldn't do, and he felt safe for the first time since Hydra. Steve smiled back.
"We'll stay." Steve said, easily able to read the soft, content look in Bucky's eyes.
Bucky nodded, too tired and relaxed to find words to agree. He found his eyes dropping heavily and his thumb went to his mouth, only the tip of it held by his lips but it felt natural. Steve was playing with his shower damp hair and soon enough he got comfortable enough, and his thumb was fully in his mouth and his eyes were shut.
His brain took a good few moments to catch up with everything. When he realized that he was laying here with Steve, letting himself enjoy something he didn't need he jerked up out from under Steve's arm over his shoulders. His thumb fell out from his mouth, and both his hands were already pushing him up to get off the couch.
Steve easily caught his arm and pulled him back onto the couch before Bucky even knew that he was trying to get up. Bucky's eyes held panic and his face was flushed.
"Bucky, hey," he easily stopped Bucky's squirming, "what happened?"
Bucky shrugged, he still didn't feel like talking. He sniffed, tears pooling in his eyes and trying to hide from Steve by ducking his head down.
After his brain caught up, he realized he had jerked himself awake as a habit from trying to keep nightmares away. He didn't know how to explain that to Steve.
"C'mere, you want a hug?" Bucky felt himself start to shake and more tears that he couldn't let fall came.
No "Yes," I don't "I do."
Steve's arms wrapped around him, just under his ribs and he pulled him close. Bucky didn't react at first, just trying to control his breathing to stop himself from crying. One of Steve's hands came up to hold the back of Bucky's head, fingers threading into his hair lightly. Bucky lost it, a year of built up, pushed down tears come streaming from his eyes. His arms came up to hold around Steve's neck, as if that would stop his shaking and crying.
His brain was screaming at him to get a hold of himself, then run away but Steve's arms were too tight around him. He let out a choked sound when Steve gently rubbed his back with the hand that wasn't in his hair.
Steve turned fully on the couch, his entire body facing Bucky, and hauled Bucky up so he was all the way on the couch too. Steve was muttering soft words to him, he couldn't make them out, he could only hear his brain telling him he's done absolutely nothing to deserve this soft treatment and care.
Steve had moved them so he was leaning against the arm of the couch, and his legs were stretched out across the couch. He had Bucky laying in his lap, arms still stubbornly wrapped around his neck with his face hidden in Steve's shoulder, lying chest to chest with him.
"Buck, hey, Bucky," there were hands in his hair again, twirling it around and fingers running through sleep tangled hair. "I'm right here, you're fine."
Bucky tried to talk, tried to apologize, to explain himself, to tell Steve that he didn't have to do this for him, but it just came out as gibberish.
"Steve, I... my... nightmares...you don'...don't..." his voice sounded high and babyish, but when he tried to control it, he just ended up over pronouncing words. "I'm sorry," saw-ry . His face turned red and he wanted to apologize, but more tears came, and he couldn't bring himself to start talking again.
"It's okay, it's okay."
"No, it not." He struggled to pronounce his words, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth.
Steve felt like he was handling a little kid, not his stoic, closed off best friend. It was a new feeling. No matter how confused it made him, protective was a way to describe it.
"Why isn't it?"
" 'Cause you... I," Bucky shifted so he was looking at Steve now, "I don' deserve 'is"
Steve let him finish. "Everyone deserves a little bit of help."
"No, no, no."
"Why not?" Steve wiped the tears out of Bucky's eyes and off his face.
" 'Cause," he said, as if Steve should know.
"You're gonna have to tell me a bit more than just because."
"I..." his lip quivered, "hur'... hurt so man- many people. I di' so many bad things," fings
"They weren't your fault."
"I shoulda... realized they 'ere bad." More tears. "I shoulda stopped, I shoulda been able to -" Bucky cut himself off with a sob and pushed his face into Steve's chest.
Steve took a few deep breaths, trying to figure out the things that Bucky wasn't saying, and running his hand over Bucky's back. "You think... that you don't deserve to be taken care of because you hurt people when you weren't in control of yourself." He tried to place his words in simple terms, he felt like Bucky wouldn't be able to understand it otherwise in whatever mindstate he was in.
"I shoulda been able to 'op... stop myself, but I couldn'. I didn' do anything to earn 'is." Anyfing
Steve wanted to point out that he had been tortured and brainwashed, but he was sure that would make Bucky start sobbing more than he already was.
"Remember when I told you - back in the forties - that I could get by on my own when my mom died?" Bucky stayed quiet but Steve could tell that he remembered, so he finished. "You told me I didn't have to."