Chapter 11
As Bucky shut the door on Steve, he breathed a sigh of relief. That had gone a lot better than expected, awful carpentry aside. He felt bad for getting so defensive about his arm, but after months of abuse from his old friends and ex-boyfriend, belittling him for something out of his control, he felt he had the right to be defensive. It was a dark time for him, and he wasn’t proud of it. Wasn’t proud of the way he tried so hard to remain friends with those people, thinking it was his fault for losing his arm. It took intervention from both Natasha and Clint and months of therapy to realise they were toxic and he was better off without them. That he didn’t need to change who he was to be happy.
He shook his head as he passed the trainwreck of the coffee table on the way back into the kitchen. He could definitely see the progress he’d made with his sketches, the improvements clear on the table. He was glad Steve had offered to teach him. For one thing, he always enjoyed learning new skills and drawing was no exception. For another, he really liked Steve.
Bucky gazed at the mess on his kitchen table and made the executive decision to tidy it in the morning. Steve had left fairly late, and Bucky was exhausted from cleaning all day. He filled Soldat’s water bowl and gave him a pat to say goodnight. He knew that Soldat would soon be in his bed, despite the extremely comfortable bed Bucky had bought for him. Soldat preferred his bed, and Bucky didn’t blame him. He spent enough time there.
He stripped down to his boxers and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Usually he wore fluffy pyjamas when it was this cold, but he was too exhausted to get dressed again. He collapsed face first onto the bed and pulled the duvet tightly over him, burrowing deep under the covers. He hoped his exhaustion would give him reprieve of his nightmares, but didn’t hold out much hope. He’d had a good day; the other shoe had to drop at some point.
He jolted awake a while later, wondering what had woken him up. He couldn’t remember what he was dreaming about, but he instinctively knew it wasn’t a nightmare. He laid in bed for a moment, turning to look at his clock. According to the time, he’d only been asleep for an hour. He frowned and jumped when he heard a knock on his door. It sounded frantic, and it wasn’t quiet either. He pulled himself out of bed, ignoring his half nakedness and stumbled to the door, shoving his hair out of his face as he opened it. He groaned when he saw both Clint and Natasha standing there, a bottle of vodka in Natasha’s hand. They wore matching grins that immediately put Bucky on edge.
“Hey James, how are you this evening?” Natasha looked at Bucky with a shit-eating grin on her face. He grunted in reply, standing to one side to let them in. Clint offered him a slightly apologetic look and immediately Bucky knew whatever they were doing was entirely Clint’s fault.
“You realise I was asleep right? For the first time in, oh, I don’t know, like two weeks?” at this, both of his surprise guests had the decency to look slightly guilty at his admission. They knew Bucky had difficulty sleeping and took whatever he could get. He waved his hand dismissively, letting them know he wasn’t actually angry, “what are you doing here anyway? I thought it was date night?”
“Yeah, date night for you and Steve!” Natasha grinned. Bucky groaned. So that’s why they were here. He loved his friends, owed them his life, but they were so annoying when it came to his love life. Annoying meaning really invasive and crossing every line there is to cross. Bucky’s honestly surprised they haven’t tried to watch him have sex yet. Although, he thought as he got glasses from the cupboard, that’s probably not from lack of trying.
“It wasn’t a date.” Bucky grumbled, sitting down in front of them. He was conscious of the fact that he was sitting in his underwear, and shifted around. He’d known Nat and Clint forever, and they’d seen him a lot worse than he was now. Still, he knew the scarring on his arm wasn’t something nice to look at. In fact, it was grotesque, and he was slightly proud of how well Clint and Natasha were avoiding looking at it or pulling faces. He never used to be body conscious; had no reason to be. He had nice abs, toned arms and his ass was honestly his best feature. It still was, but nobody noticed when he had his shirt off. They only noticed his scars, the angry red welts where metal was fused to skin.
“Sure it wasn’t.” Clint drawled, smirking at Bucky and handing him his vodka. Bucky downed it, knowing unquestionably he’d need all the alcohol for this conversation. He didn’t miss the amused look sent his way and scowled in the general vicinity of his supposed friends. He held out his glass and it was dutifully filled by Natasha, who was hiding her smirk behind her own glass. “You know I was there when you made the plans, right? Every excruciatingly awkward minute of it.”
“Wow, you know some big words there Clint, I’m super proud of you!” Bucky shot back, knocking back his second glass. A voice in the back of his head told him to slow down. He usually ran his mouth when he got drunk enough, and he didn’t want to give Nat or Clint any ammunition. “It wasn’t a date, Steve is way out of my league. He wouldn’t want to date some screwed up person like me.” Woah. Maybe he was drunker than he thought. Where the hell had that come from?
“Hey, none of that, thank you.” Nat said disapprovingly, swiping his glass from his hand. Bucky relented his grip easily. “I can’t believe you’ve fallen this fast.” Bucky tried to protest, he really did, but he was slightly tipsy, and he couldn’t flat out lie to Nat. He wondered, not for the first time, how she managed to read him so easily. She was eerily perceptive when it came to his emotions. Most of the time she knew what he was feeling before he realised it himself.
Clint looked at him consideringly for a moment, then scooted his chair round the table to rest his head on Bucky’s shoulder. His right one, thank god. Bucky sighed, trying to hold back his tears. Even though Clint was the definition of Human Disaster, he knew how to comfort Bucky when he needed it. He felt a warm hand rub up and down his back and he shivered slightly, once again hyper aware of his nakedness. “Don’t worry about it guys. Steve’s a friend- a good one- and I don’t want to ruin it. It’s been ages since I’ve been able to make friends. Especially friends who don’t seem to mind about my arm.”
“You showed him your arm?” Clint lifted his head and stared at Bucky in shock. Bucky knew the look was warranted. He hadn’t shown anybody the arm except his family, Nat and Clint. And the bastards he’d rather not think about right now. He shrugged in reply to Clint, not wanting to make a big deal of it. He thought he might start panicking if he did. Unfortunately, Clint decided to make a big fucking deal of it, “Buck, that’s great! I’m so glad you’ve found someone you’re that comfortable around! We were getting a bit worried, you know.” he gestured at himself and Natasha, oblivious to the waves of discomfort coming from Bucky.
Thankfully, Natasha’s secret empath powers kicked in, and she hit Clint upside the head. He yelped and glared at her. Bucky watched as they had one of their telepathic conversations. It used to unnerve him, but now he was used to it. He still didn’t have a clue what they were saying to each other though. You’d think after that many years he’d be able to understand, but it still remained a mystery to him. They used to communicate in sign language but after Bucky had taken a class they were forced to read each other’s minds.
Bucky sighed guiltily. He knew Clint was trying to help and he’d acted like an asshole. His head was buzzing from the vodka or exhaustion, he wasn’t sure which. As much as he appreciated his friends, he kind of wanted them to leave so he could go to bed. It had been a long day. He knew if he asked them to leave they would, no questions asked. But that felt horribly rude when they’d come all this way to not so subtly check up on him. Even if they’d said they were fishing for details about his ‘date’ with Steve, they were really just making sure he was alright. He truly didn’t deserve them.
He cleared his throat pointedly, causing Natasha and Clint to jump slightly and look over to him. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow and then raised his empty glass. Natasha scoffed at him but refilled his glass anyway. Bucky smiled gratefully at her and took a gulp. He was busy concentrating on the watermarks staining the glass, so intently that he almost missed the sound of his phone ringing in the living room. He jumped up, stumbling a bit from the alcohol, fearing the worst. It was late at night and his only two friends were with him. If that didn’t mean a family emergency, Bucky wasn’t sure what did. He didn’t recognise the number.
“Hello?” He sounded breathless and he was slurring. Great. An emergency and he was drunk. There was a chuckle on the other end of the line, and it sent a jolt through him. Steve.
“Hey, Bucky. Sorry if I woke you. Uh, this is super awkward, but I was wondering if you’d come across my phone at your place? I realise if you’re answering my phone then it must be there.” Steve laughed at himself and Bucky grinned. He liked Steve’s laugh. He listened to Steve’s voice for a couple more seconds before his alcohol soaked brain caught up with him. Steve had lost his phone. It might be here. He had to find it!
“Steve! I’ll have a look, just give me a sec.” Bucky navigated his way around the living room, ignoring Steve’s protests. He needed to find the phone, and apparently that took all of his concentration. He couldn’t see the phone in the living room, so he wandered into the kitchen, describing his findings in great and drunken detail to a laughing Steve. He paused when he noticed Nat and Cint were still in his kitchen, watching his antics with poorly concealed delight. “Hi guys! Steve here has lost his phone, and he thinks it might--might be here. Can you help me find it please?” He’d started hiccuping, which meant he was dangerously approaching drunk territory. A traitorous part of his mind told him he’d passed drunk a long time ago. He elected to ignore that voice.
“Sure, Buck, anything to help Steve.” Clint wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Bucky grinned in thanks, too busy (being drunk) listening to Steve’s voice to get annoyed with the obvious teasing in Clint’s voice. “What does the phone look like?”
Bucky repeated the question to Steve, who snorted. “It’s a black Stark phone. Wait really? You have a Stark phone? That’s so funny! I have a Stark arm!” Bucky cracked up, ignoring the raised eyebrows shot in his direction from his friends, “I’ll get Nat and Clint to look for it now.” Bucky made a shooing motion at his friends, who both gave him outraged looks. He handed his phone to Natasha and stumbled to his bedroom to search for Steve's phone.
“Uh huh. Yep, don't worry Steve. I've found your phone. I'll be sure to let Bucky know when he's sober. He'll be more embarrassed in the morning. Yeah.” Bucky heard Natasha’s laughter from the other room. When did he get into bed? He rolled over to check his phone, pausing when he realised Natasha was talking to Steve on his phone. Wait. His phone was plugged in where he left it. Who's phone did Nat have? Bucky could feel the blood drain from his face as he realised what had happened. God, who let him drink so much anyway?
“Nat!” Bucky was hit with the full force of his drunkenness as he lurched from his bed. He ignored the logic that it was too late to save face- he'd already made a complete twat of himself. He sprinted into the living room to see Nat seated comfortably on the sofa, Steve's phone pressed to her ear. He lunged for the phone, tripping over his own feet, and crashed straight into the remains of his coffee table, slamming his head on the corner. He was dimly aware of Nat standing up and calling for Clint, and he tried to tell her he was okay. He barely had time to open his mouth and groan with pain before everything went black.