Chapter 2
Bucky’s head whirled around at the strenuous high-pitched squeak. Rocket was crouched, claws tugging at something lodged in his side. Bucky scrambled over, eyes expertly determining the extent of the wound. He squinted, the fur obscuring his analysis.
Rocket was panting, eyes sharp with pain. Bucky moved the raccoonoid’s dexterous paws aside trying to get a better look at the bullet.
“We’re gonna get this out,” he reasoned. Rocket smirked, holding his paw over the wound.
“C’mon Barnes what’s another bit of metal in my skin? Add it to the collection yah know?”
“Haha,” The man commented dryly. He scanned the area and turned once more to the raccoonoid.
“Sorry about this Rocket I know how much you hate being touched, especially carried lovingly to safety.”
“Barnes! What the flark are you...” the words were whisked out of his mouth as Bucky’s hands lifted heaved him up into the crook of his arm. Rocket cursed fluidly the whole way back, the spiked bullet pinching his insides every time he dared to claw away.
Bucky swung open the door of their apartment, Rocket’s dark blood staining his arm and running down his side.
“What happened?” Steve exclaimed his eyes flitting from Bucky to Rocket.
“I’m fine, there was a fight...I wasn’t looking...but Rocket he...”
“I’ll be fine Barnes!” Rocket growled, easing himself from the humans hold towards Groot.
“We gotta call an ambulance,” Steve suggested.
“No! A vet I think! Or animal control? I don’t know,” Bucky grabbed his cell off the table w a bloody hand. “An exotic vet? Are raccoons considered exotic pets?”
“I’m not your....” Groot grew an extra branch shoving it between the raccoonoid’s growling jaws to shut him up and give him something to bite on as he began to extract the bullet.
Bucky dialed, “Yes hello my pet raccoon’s been shot.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to have a pet raccoon in the state of New York,” Steve whispered. “They might have changed the laws since we were kids though, I’m not sure.”
“Damnit it!” Bucky hung up the phone. “I’m never going to understand this decade!”
“I ain’t your pet,” Rocket seethed through gritted teeth as Groot finished bandaging him with leaves he’d grown. “I ain’t a raccoon and I ain’t dying so pipe down!”
---
Bucky couldn’t sleep. Not that that was unusual but this time he kept hearing that animalistic shriek of shock and pain as Rocket had been hit w a bullet larger than his fist. He tossed and turned finally throwing off the covers and got himself out of bed making his way towards the tinkering sound of Rocket’s latest project.
Rocket smelled and heard the humie before he saw him. But he remained focused on the new Sakkaran cannon he was enhancing.
“You can’t be doing stuff like that Rocket,” Bucky’s eternally tired voice reasoned. “It’s one thing for guys like me or Steve or Groot to get hit with something like that but you...” Rocket turned, watching the human try to choose his words very carefully. It was kind of amusing, and he bit back a snicker as Bucky finally decided to let his voice drift off.
“Why cuz I ain’t as big as you?” He turned back to his work. His side still hurt.
“Christ Rocket I use guns that weigh more than you!” Bucky came closer, voice exasperated. “You could’ve been killed...” he finished. Rocket shrugged, testing the lever in the cannon.
“It was just one bullet,” he reasoned casually.
“Rocket,” Bucky whispered hoarsely, the raccoonoid glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Rocket listen to me,”
“No!” The raccoonoid bristled, dropping his tools as he leapt up on the back of the chair and perched on it, his face level with that of the man. He jabbed a clawed finger at Bucky’s face. “You listen to me! It was just one bullet, hell I’d take a thousand bullets before I let the em take the only dumb ass who’s gone ever gone through the same shit I have! Before I let em take the only person who's made me feel like maybe all that torture and shit was worth it!” Rocket hissed hair stuck on end, hackles up. Oh god, Bucky thought, how many painkillers did Steve give him? I knew we should’ve used the children’s Tylenol!
“I blame myself for that...for what they did to you...if I let you die for me....” he shook his head running a hand over his face.
“Will you quit it with that guilt bullshit for one second?!” Rocket snarled, teeth bared. “You remember how I told yah about how they made me? With sentience and all that philosophical crap? Choices Barnes! I can make my own dast choices! Well I made my choice and I’m gonna keep making it!”
“What choice is that?” Bucky questioned, arms folded. He couldn’t face Rocket’s red eyes.
“You said it yourself,” Rocket’s voice fell to a whisper. “I gotta watch your six. Well I’m watching your six and your third and your one hundredth.” Bucky bit back a small smile. “I said I had your back Barnes, I’m choosing to watch your back and if I get smoked to save your butt that’s my choice too.”
The humie reached out a hand of protest. Rockets lip curled, tail thrashing. “Don’t you dare,” he growled, dangerously eyes narrowing. “Don’t you dare take that away from me. You try to take away that choice then your no better then them.” Silence fell around them. Fuck, Rocket cursed inwardly. He’d gone too far. As usual he couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut and now he was going to pay for it. He waited for the blow,
“Your right,” Bucky admitted softly, leaning against the workbench. “Your right.” Rocket scratched his ear in agitation. “I respect your choice,” Bucky sucked in a breath, meeting his eyes once more. “But I don’t agree with it.” Rocket’s tail twitched, he balanced on the back of the chair.
“Ain’t no thing like me ‘ceped me,” he quipped, Bucky looked up. “...and you. Your the closest thing I got.”
“I’m not a very good option,” Bucky murmured, voice cracking. The large bandage around the raccoonoid’s toro sent and inexorable wave of nausea through him. Rocket spat at the ground.
“You listen to me and you listen good.” He scooted the chair closer and leaned towards Bucky, scrutinizing. “Fuck I wish I was drunk. But unfortunately for the both of us I’m stone cold sober so listen up.” Bucky blinked, bracing himself.
“....You got better...after what they did to yah. You were able to love Steve and save the world and...you got outta that place and you became better.” Rocket’s whiskers twitched though Bucky couldn’t quite read his face. “I didn’t get in front of that bullet cuz you needed saving. I got in front of that bullet cuz.....cuz..you made it though what they did to us. You went through hell and came out the other side....cuz...” Rocket tried to find the words. He closed his eyes for a moment then looked squarely at Bucky taking a fragile breath, “cuz we are Groot...” he forced the words through the lump in his throat, they were so heavy.
What the hell is that supposed to….? The confused skepticism died in Bucky’s mind the instant he took in Rocket’s face. Wid animal eyes brimmed with tears, face screwed up with grief and longing.
Now he’d done it, Rocket cursed himself. He’d never said those words aloud before and now he’d blurted them out like a lunatic. It made no sense! Fuck he’d just ripped the callous right off. Forget the wound in his side, this hurt way worse and you couldn’t stop emotions like blood. He looked at Bucky and sniffed. That right there was why humans gave him the creeps: they said too much with their eyes. Too many things he couldn’t understand. The man before him nodded, taking a deep breath. Silence fell around them once more. Bucky picked up a grailian screwdriver on the table and fiddled with it. He didn’t speak Groot...but he was intuitive. And those three words made him feel humble, small but it in a pleasant way and it moved him.
“I guess I just got used to Steve being the only one to give a shit.” He half joked after awhile.
“Tsch, not anymore so get used to it.”
“I’ll do my best,” Bucky grinned easing himself into the chair. Rocket turned and climbed down little claws going across his arm and back down to the ground.
“Barnes?”
“Yeah?”
“If I ever do kick the can for your sake, do something for me would yah?”
“Of course,” Bucky replied in earnest. A wicked grin laced the raccoonoid’s face.
“Just don’t turn my tail into one of those hats you homies where from the old days.”
Bucky let out a bolt of laughter,
“WHAT? Rocket! I was gonna be Davey Crocket for Halloween!”
“Who the flark is Davey Crocket?” Bucky began to explain but Rocket interrupted him.
“Whatever, where’s that old timey helmet you got?” Bucky lifted a brow, he knew that tone.
“Why?” Rocket only smiled impishly.
“Cuz I promised the lady at the pawn shop I’d bring her something good! That gross old jacket made me a fortune she loved it!” It didn’t take Bucky long to connect the dots,
“Your pawning off my stuff from the war?!” He stood up only half mad. Rocket licked his lips, leaning down to pick up a spare part to the cannon,
“Oh yeah. Humies love shit from World War II. Where’s that helmet at?”
Bucky shook his head,
“No helmet. But you can take one of the pistols. C’mon I’ll show you.” Rocket followed the man through the hall and paused, watching the humie walk w his one arm and slight limp.
Damn Barnes....you don’t know how far you’ve come do yah?
The End