#bbwounded

“He’s withdrawing”

“From what?” Steve asks, anxiety making his voice sharp

“Everything” Tony says, taking over from Bruce, “HYDRA were pumping him full of just about every drug going— appetite suppressants, sedatives-”

“-pain relief-” Banner adds, looking through the two way glass, “and some other compounds we can’t identify”

“Yet” Tony cuts in, “We’ll crack them pretty soon”

He’s aiming for confident. Steve can tell that he earnestly wants to help, so he offers him a tight lipped smile as he nods.

“He’ll be okay” Bruce says, sounding more certain, “but for right now he’s just going to have to ride it out”

There’s an apology in his tone.

“For how long?”

Tony shrugs, flicking through some notes-

“A while” is what the Stark finally decides, “A couple of days, maybe? It depends on what half of this shit is, and how the serum-”

“Can’t you do anything to make it-”

“Steve” Bruce cautions, “We’re doing everything we can”

The ‘don’t push it’ is implied.

Tony is still unhappy about Barnes even being in the tower, let alone in his lab.

The blonde nods again. He’s about to rattle off a ‘thank you for your help’ when the door to the adjacent room opens.

Bucky is perched on the edge of the examination table. He’s shaking like he’s having a seizure, with hair hanging in sweat dampened pieces in front of his eyes.

His eyes look rabid. His pupils are blown and they’re ringed with deep-set bruises.

Y/N decides to approach him slowly, not even sparing a glance in the direction of the two way mirror that she just knows people are watching them through.

“Hi, sweetheart” she coos, coming to a stop a few feet away from him, “How’re you feeling?”

The man doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even blink.

“Not great?” She guesses, reaching out carefully to press her hand flush against his brow, “Still feel like puking?”

He’s clammy, his skin is damp and cool under her touch—

“Mhmm”

A hum is better than no response at all, so she takes it, letting her arm fall back to her side.

“Y/N, if you can convince him to give us a blood sample we might-”

Bucky flinches as the in wall speakers crackle to life above them. She shoots a harsh look at the mirror and her brothers voice vanishes as quickly as it’d come.

“Was that one test too many?”

It’s only then that his eyes roll up to hers.

God, he looks sick.

“-‘m, um, I'm sorry” he whispers, voice cracking painfully around the word,

She just shakes her head, waiting to see if he’s going to say anything else. For a moment, she thinks that he won’t. That he’s going to settle back into silence, but then, he blinks at her,

“Wh-what’s happenin’ to me?”

The waiver in his voice reminds her just how brave he’s being. It’s clear that he’s suffering, that he’s in pain, and the she knows how much he hates being anywhere as remotely clinical as the lab-room where he’s been waiting in for hours, she thinks that it’s a miracle he’s daring to ask her anything, she thinks, let alone something about himself;

“Well…” she begins, “…From what we can see HYDRA had you hooked on a bit of a cocktail…” she pauses, letting him absorb what she’s saying, “… We’re still trying to figure out the exact amounts, Buck-That book we’ve got gives us some clues, so does how you’re feeling, and the readings we’ve got from the scan”

Bucky sniffs, swallowing bile as it floods his mouth again. Everything is spinning, he screws his eyes shut, until the darkness of his eyelids becomes a blinding white, and he’s so scared by the change that he snaps them back open, reaching out to take hold of her fingers in a last ditch attempt at finding some facet of comfort—

Y/N’s heart melts at the gesture. She curls her hand around his, and lets him settle himself for a beat,

“Some blood would tell us more about what is causing what… it’d make it easier to figure out exactly what everything they gave you was for—”

“C-can” he gulps, “can you make it stop?”

There’s no point in lying to him, she decides, He’s had enough of that already—

“No” she says honestly, “Probably not, sweetheart… It looks like you’re goin’ to have to just let it pass regardless, but if we can figure out the details we might be able to take the edge off”

He’s starring at her. His expression is so hopelessly defeated that she can’t help but step closer towards him;

As she moves in, standing directly between his thighs, he crumbles, he visibly shatters, folding forwards with a terrible shudder- The way her hand lets go of his, moving so that she can wrap her arms around his back is a reflex. She’s rewarded with the feeling of him burying his face in her stomach as his lungs start to strain.

“Cou-could you st-stay here?” he asks, voice muffled by fabric and tremors, “If.. I-f I give the sample w-w-would y-you stay?”

“Sure” Y/N agrees quickly, “I can stay right here, okay? We can have Bruce slip in and grab it, you’ll only have to move your arm”

“Okay” he says bravely, “J-just Bruce, ri-right?”

“Just Bruce” she promises, nodding at the mirror, “We can get Steve too, if you want? I’m sure he’s around-”

“Please” Bucky bursts, “P-please don’t— I- I d-don’t w-want him seein’ me like this”

“Okay” she replies calmly, “No Steve”

The door opens quietly, Y/N looks over and smiles encouragingly at the doctor as he makes his way towards them, already holding everything he needs in gloved hands;

“I bet he’s busy, anyway” She’s says, looking back at the mirror, knowing that the blonde is watching behind, “SHEILD will have him up to his neck in paper work for the next month and half now he’s back in their good books.”

She understands why Bucky might want to hide this whole situation from Steve. They’re both protective over the other, and neither is very good at letting the other one fret no matter how justified it might be—

“Okay Sargent Barnes-” Bruce says, almost in introduction-

“Bucky” he corrects shakily,

“Bucky” the man agrees, ignoring the way that the man is still hiding his face against Y/N’s front, “I’m going to bring your sleeve up now, alright? Just try and keep still, I’ll be as quick as I can”

Y/N strokes Bucky’s back, as he nods in agreement, and then when she sees the tourniquet going on above his elbow, she feels him freeze completely. She can only imagine how difficult this is for him, how many horrible memories it must be triggering. Before the needle slips into his skin, she holds him a fraction tighter, and then, when the blood starts to draw, she presses a kiss against his head.

To his credit, Banner is fast.

The whole thing is done in a matter of seconds.

Still, Barnes is hyperventilating now. His ribs are straining, breathes coming in quick shallow bursts that he can’t make any effort to slow.

Bruce doesn’t notice though, or if he does, he’s too polite to comment- He takes his prize and disappears with nothing more than a curt nod in Y/N’s direction;

“All done, handsome” the woman coos after a moment of quiet, “What do you want to do now, huh?”

That question takes Bucky by surprise. It’s clear from the look on his face when he finally shifts to peer up at her that he’d been expecting her to say maybe anything other than that

“Do you have to go?”

“No” she says fairly, “We can stay here, but you’re only going to keep feeling worse, and it’s more comfortable up in the—”

“I can leave?” he asks, clearly confused, “I.. I th-thought you w-were going to- to leave me here until I-”

“No” she says again, “No, Bucky… Of course you can leave, you can go anywhere you want”

Now he only looks more muddled.

He really had been expecting to be locked inside this horribly bright room so he could ‘ride this out’ without causing any trouble.

The idea of not being left in total isolation in an empty, clinical suite genuinely hadn’t crossed his mind.

Y/N thinks that’s awfully sad.

“…Y-you said ‘we’…” Bucky murmurs next, “D-di-did you mean—”

“I’ve taken the week off work” she tells him softly, “I’m all yours, sweetheart— Someone’s got to keep an eye on ya’, and since you’ve already said ‘no’ to Steve I figured-”

“I l-love y-you” he stammers, feeling horribly unworthy, “I- I-I’m s-sor-”

Y/N cuts his apology short by tilting his head up, so that she can press a gentle kiss against his lips.

“I love you too” she swears, smoothing his hair back affectionately, “Baby, and you’ve done so well with all of this, but now I think we should get you out of here.”

Bucky just nods, barley believing his luck- He’s way too far gone to question it, though, so he doesn’t, he just waits, hoping that Y/N will take the lead,

“If he stops tolerating fluids we can arrange an IV ” Bruce’s voice announces via the speakers, “some of these compounds look similar to ketamine, which means—”

“Hallucinations are likely” Y/N inserts calmly, “Yes, Thank you, Dr Banner— I’ve read the same material as you, and I’m well aware of the implications of non-medicated withdrawal”

That information is clearly new to Bucky, who suddenly looks rabid with fear

“H-halluciations?” he parrots, trying to stop himself from crying, “Y-you mean—”

“Don’t worry” she soothes, “You’re going to be okay, It’s alright…”

It’s not, he thinks frantic, I’m dangerous, I—“Hey” Y/N says, tone a little firmer, “Hey, Bucky, look at me-”

He does. His eyes snap to hers, and the moment they do, she finds herself wishing that he was looking anywhere else.

“I promise” she murmurs, “I promise you’re going to be okay”

“I’m scared” he tells her honestly, “Doll, I— god, I— I’m so scared”

Her heart shatters in her chest.

She can feel the shards of it aching, as she reaches up to cup his cheeks.

After everything he’s been through, after all the terrible, horrible things he’s survived, it seems awfully unfair that there’s still more he has to suffer.

It’s no wonder he’s terrified. He’s clearly hurting, and his body is just starting adjust to the lack of drugs it’s been accustom to for nearly 100 years. It doesn’t help that the only facts she’s been able to give him is that it’s probably going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better.

“I know” she whispers, “I know you are”

His lower lip is quivering, his are eyes full of tears and suddenly, he doesn’t look manic, anymore, he doesn’t just look tired, or sick, he looks totally, completely, shattered.

“But, I’m not leavin’ you—” he hears her swear, “—I’m going to look after you okay? No matter how bad it gets, I’m going to make sure you’re alright, I promise”

Steve watches his oldest friend clutching Y/N’s hand and half stumbling out of the lab, and feels guilt flooding his chest like poison.

He wants to help. He wants to make it all go away, but he can’t. He knows he can’t, and even though it’s illogical, he can’t help but feel sickened by how helpless he is in the situation.

“You did the right thing, Cap” Bruce says in consolation, “You got him here, you convinced him to let us run the tests-”

“I lied to him” Steve counters, “I told him I was goin’ to the office-”

“and I told Y/N I didn’t mind my kid sister shacking up with the guy who killed our parents” Tony cuts in dryly, raising his hand to silence Steve’s budding defence of the man, “My point, is that sometimes we lie to the people we love, welcome to the twenty-first century.”

He shrugs, looking pointedly back at his notes.

“weren't they together before you found out about that?” Bruce asks, before remembering that they're supposed to be avoiding that topic all together, “not that it matters - he’s right, Steve— He’s okay, we’ve got some good data, hopefully he’ll clean up quickly enough-”

Tony barks out a laugh that he tries to disguise as a cough when he see’s the genuine look of upset that Steve is wearing.

“Sorry” he says, “But that guy’s blood is… it’s something else… he’s got a hell of a come down headin’ his way”

“But he’ll be fine?” Steve asks, terrified again, “Right?”

“Right” Bruce answers instantly, “Right, just-”

“Not for awhile.” Tony finishes,

“Y/N isn't a child” the other man cuts in helpfully, “and, she has more than enough experience handling Barnes-”

“She’s not his handler” The other Stark bristles, “She loves the guy, which is the only reason I’m-”

“I didn’t mean it like that” Bruce says, calm tone working at diffusing Tony’s budding irritation, “but, again, he’s right Steve— She dotes on him, I think we should leave them to it for a couple of days at least— FRIDAY can keep an eye out”

He doesn’t like the idea of staying away, but it’s clear that he doesn’t have a choice. Barnes had said that he didn’t want him interfering, and he can’t say he blames him. Dignity isn’t something he’s had a lot of, over the years. HYDRA clearly hadn’t been very big on it, so robbing him of the little privacy he’s trying to have would be absurdly selfish.

By the time both Bucky and Y/N have made it back to the room they share, the man is drenched in sweat. He’s shaking so much that he’s barely managing to walk, flesh arm draped around his partners shoulder for support.

“Okay, love, I know… It’s okay, we’re here, you’re alright” she soothes, locking the door behind them, “FRIDAY, lets turn the heat up— Keep it high for the next 48 hours.”

The ‘Yes, boss’ that usually follows a command is drowned up the the sound of Bucky’s retching.

It’s loud, and hollow and he’s hunched over at the waist, and then, he’s puking, stomach acid burning up his throat as he screws his eyes shut—

“Alright” Y/N murmurs, adjusting herself around him the best she can, “Alright, it’s okay”

It’s not. He’s not—

He tries to straighten himself out, but the second he tries to move, it feels like he’s being kicked in the ribs. He doubles over, and then, just as the second round of hurling stops, he drops to his knees.

Y/N can’t catch him, he’s way too heavy, but she can wait until he’s still before moving round to his side, and running her hands through his hair, holding it away from his face as he starts throwing up again.

It hurts. He hasn’t eaten in days, which is probably why it feels like knives are being twisted in his stomach as he continues to cough wetly into his own lap.

“You heard what Bruce said about fluids, right?”

He nods as much as he can with the way she’s holding his hair.

If I can’t keep them down, I get an IV.

She suspects the way that he’s processed the sentiment is a little off. She thinks that she should probably remind him that hooking him up to a saline bag won’t be a punishment he earns by not drinking enough, but now doesn’t seem like the time. Not with the way he’s starting to sob-

Hollow, gasping cries are rattling his chest, tears starting to stream down his face, mixing with whatever other bodily fluids are shining by his jaw.

“Okay, Buck...” she soothes, taking a hair tie from her wrist and using that to hold his hair in place, “It’s all going to be alright”

Exhausted, blood shot eyes roll over to her as she slips into his field of vision.

He doesn’t believe her at all.

“Don’t leave me” is all he manages to say, “Please.. I— I d-don’t w-want to die on my own—Please I- I want to die with you.”

And then, just like that, he’s not just sobbing anymore.

He’s weeping. It’s loud, and uncontrollable. He’s shaking and looking at her with a look that she knows will stick behind her eyes forever;

“You’re not going to die” she promises lamely, tugging him into her chest, wrapping her arms around his back not caring for one second about the way that he’s still covered in puke, “But I’m still not leaving you on your own…”

Bucky disagrees with her. He can’t catch his breath, he can’t breathe and that alone might kill him. Let alone the way his entire body feels like it’s being torn apart from the inside out— This, whatever this new, incredible pain is, is worse than anything he remembers having lived through before, and some of that had nearly finished him off—

He gags, into her chest, feeling her hands stroking the burning skin of his back through the material that is clinging to his body, now.

“Oh, sweetheart” she sighs, “Lets get you in the shower”

While we can still move you

She doesn’t say that out loud. She doesn’t have too.

He’s not going to fight, or tell her that he doesn’t want to move— He just keeps crying as she helps him drag himself into their bathroom, and then, into the walk in cubicle, under a stream of warm water he doesn’t remember her starting.

The noise is soothing. So is the feeling of it rushing over him, drenching his hair, washing his face; and then, he sees her.

She’s naked, and perfect and kneeling down in front of him.

He’s still dressed, he realises with a blink that he’s still wearing his t-shirt and sweatpants.

Mechanically, he moves to take his shirt off.

It’s agony. He doesn’t know why, but the second he moves his shoulder it feels like the entire seam of his scar is tearing open. His bones all feel broken. He makes a noise that sounds like a wounded animal, and then, Y/N is moving for him; she’s guiding the fabric up and over his chest, and she’s stroking his cheek as he whimpers and whines and finally kicks his legs free from his pants.

He feels like he’s just run a marathon, like he doesn’t have an ounce of energy left. So he just lets himself fall back against the towels, crying, and shivering under the spray of water.

Y/N cleans him slowly, taking her time lathering him up in sweet smelling soap. She doesn’t touch is scar, though. It’s red, and angry, and it looks awfully painful.

HYDRA had a morphine substitute going almost round the clock when he was off ice, she recalls, that’s probably why.

“Can I touch your shoulder, love?” she asks calmly, “You can say no”

The reminder that he’s free to refuse is very much needed. The terror driven ‘yes ma’am’ he’s about to blurt out dies in his throat, and he just simpers for a moment before flexing metal fingers and whispering out a “Please don’t” that Y/N thinks might be the bravest thing she’s heard him say.

“Okay” she agrees with a smile, “Okay, Buck— I know it hurts”

“E-ev-everything hurts”

She nods, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

“I know” she says, “I know it does, I’m sorry”

“W-whats happening’ to me”

“You’re withdrawing” she repeats, knowing that he already knows “All those drugs HYDRA had you hooked on, baby, all of it’s gone— there was a pump in your arm, it kept it all on automatic but there isn’t anyone left to put in a re-fill, remember? so now you’re detoxing, it’s all leaving’ your system”

That all sounds like something he’s been told before. He remembers fragments of conversations, of talks with her, and her brother, and Bruce; about his arm, and about the components inside and how they were using them to medicate him— He remembers them deciding not to take it out, to let it run it’s course, not wanting to just cut him off cold turkey—

“I, I can’t do this” he whispers, “I- I need I— p-please j-just just-”

“We can’t” Y/N says sadly, “Bucky we tried, remember? There isn’t anything we can do, the units been deactivated and we can’t just throw another one in, it doesn’t work that way.”

He’s so hopelessly, crushingly defeated that all he can do is keep crying.

The feeling of his lovers fingers drifting across his face is the only facet of comfort he has, so when they stop, it’s more than he can bare.

His flesh hand shoots up to hers, so that he can press it back against his jaw with a look so desperate that she can feel her own chest aching;

“You’re going to be alright” she promises again, “We’ve run all the tests, love… It’s going to be a rough couple of days but after, when it’s all run it’s course you’ll feel better than you did before”

He doesn’t believe there’s going to be an after. He’s honestly certain that he’s going to die in agony before anything can ‘run it’s course’ -

“I know you’re scared, I know it’s all too much” she murmurs, leaning in to kiss his brow, “But, you’ve done it before… so many times, love… and this time, I’m going to be here, you’re not going to be on your own”

A line forms between his eyes, he doesn’t remember, he—

Oh, oh god.

He remembers hell. He remembers flashes of something he’d hoped had been nightmare— stone walls, and clawing at his skin until it tears open underneath his fingers, and, and the sound of screams, of his own screams until his voice gives in, and, no, not it’s all way too much—

He’s throwing up again, even though nothing is coming up. He’s gagging and spluttering and his heart is racing.

Y/N realises what must’ve triggered this reaction, and shakes her head the second he can see—

“Don’t think about that” she whispers, “there’s a reason you don’t remember it all, okay? It’s not your fault and it’s not important— What is important, is that you hear me, okay? I’ve got you, and this, this is all going to be okay”

The nod he gives her is barely a twitch, but she catches it all the same, and then, a few minutes later when she turns the water off, and feels flesh fingers reaching out for her hand, she catches that too.

She is the only thing he cares about right now. His entire world is searing, blazing pain, but she, she is soft, and kind and he loves her, and he trusts her and even though he’s still half convinced that this is really going to kill him, if he gets to die holding her hand then maybe the pain won’t seem so bad.

Bucky doesn’t remember her helping him put boxers on, or how he got into their bed.

He remembers the way his crying had gotten more hysterical when she’d let go of his fingers so that she could put a towel on the floor beside him, and he remembers the way that when she’d gotten under the covers he’d rolled over, ignoring the way that his whole body had felt like it’d torn apart at the action, so that he could bury his face in the crook of her neck— so that he could sob into her skin and cling onto her body in an attempt to keep her close.

“My sweet, sweet boy” Y/N purrs, taking the hint and tugging him into her front, “If you want anything… anything at all, you just tell me, alright?”

“Y-you” he gulps, “I- I want y-you— I- I need you, I— I’m s-so scared— I- I j-just want you here”

“I’m here” she whispers, trying to calm him down, “I’m right here”

He forces a nod. This time, the action is more notable, so is the way his hands tighten around her waist, locking himself in position so firmly that nothing, nobody, would stand a chance at prising him away.

“Hush now” she says, stroking his hair, “You just keep breathing for me, okay? that’s your only job right now… you just need to breathe, and rest”

Breathe, and rest.

“I-I’ll t-try I— I swear”

His promise is hissed out through gritted teeth, but Y/N still smiles when she hears it. She smiles, and kisses the top of his head, feeling his sobs becoming quieter and quieter until eventually, they fade off into the kind of quiet, uneven gasps that usually means he’s asleep.

Thank god, she thinks, praying he’ll stay that way for awhile.

Bucky hears her hum.

The sound is soft and familiar and considerate.

He licks at his lips before just sitting back, and relishing in the calm after the storm.

“Will you let me clean you up?” Y/N asks quietly, “Please?”

Bucky’s eyes are on hers again. They’re the same sparkling shade of blue that they always are, but they’re glistening and ringed with red.

She knows he’s in pain, and she knows he’ll feel it soon, even if it hasn’t caught up with him yet.

“We don’t have to go anywhere” he hears her add, “I’ve got a first aid kit under the bed.”

He sucks in a breath and gives her a courageous nod.

Y/N suspects his agreement is a reflex, more than anything else, but she doesn’t want to discourage it.

Even if it’s likely that this current pliancy is stemming from the decades of conditioning he’s suffered through.

She presses a gentle kiss to his brow, and is sure she hears him whimper.

“Come on then, sweetheart” she purrs, applying the smallest amount of pressure to his shoulders in an effort to guide him backwards.

Bucky follows her lead subserviently, shifting back until he’s laying down on the mattress, heavy boots hanging over the edge, arms flat by his sides.

He feels awfully visible, now.

Crying against his partner had left him vulnerable, but now, when he sees her coming up on his flank, a green box in her hands, he finds himself shaking lamely under her consideration.

A hand comes up to his brow, he feels it stroking the skin slowly, before it presses back through the long, tangled pieces of hair.

His breath catches in his throat as he meets her eyes.

She offers him a smile as she places the kit besides his head on the pillow.

He needs her to be kind, and calm and slow.

Y/N knows he’s still scared. She knows he needs her to be gentle, more than he needs her to be thorough or quick, so, she takes her time, she trails her nails along his scalp, loving the way his muscles seem to unfurl with each line she drawers.

“I-“ Bucky shivers, “I.. I love you”

She beams. Her lips are smiling and her whole face lights up as he finishes his sentence, and suddenly his heart isn’t pulsing as violently as it was just a moment before.

Her hands don’t retract, either. She continues to pet him, in the way she knows he loves.

“I know that" Y/N promises, “I love you too, Bucky” she maintains eye contact until he breaks it, to glance nervously down at his chest, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I’m not going to hurt you.

Bucky Barnes has heard that before, he’s heard it from so many people over the years that he can’t even count, and they’ve all been liars. They’ve all said it with mock sincerity, or malice or taunting, but not Y/N. Never Y/N. Her words are ladened with such heavy compassion that he can feel a weight lift away from his gut, and then there’s the feeling of her fingers carding through his hair. God, that feels nice. He leans into it, the best he can, and suddenly he’s not just afraid, anymore. He’s not just scared and fragile and ashamed. He’s cared for, and he’s not on his own. That swell of pleasantness washes over his soul and bites back at the lingering traces of terror and pain that are still very much cemented there.

“Shall we get started, sweetheart?” Y/N murmurs, her free hand steady on his arm, “I’ll go slow”

Bucky nods, not wanting to give himself an option to back out and change his mind.

She smiles, and very slowly pulls her hands away from his body.

He feels empty. He blinks at the ceiling and tries to keep his breathing slow.

Blue eyes shoot sidewards in search of her, and she’s there, but she’s not looking at him, she’s looking down at a piece of gauze that she’s dampening, and Bucky can’t handle it at all anymore. He’s gritting his teeth and furling his fists, and as she brings the wet cloth over to his skin he shakes his head and reaches out to stop her-

“W-wait” he stammers, vision flaring with panic, “Please-P-Please wait”

Y/N freezes, letting him grasp at her free hand, whilst he works on bringing his head back to down the pillow.

“Okay” she breathes, her face patient, “It’s alright, Bucky.”

He shakes his head again, and still can’t make himself let go of her hand.

“I- I can’t, doll” The man mumbles, “‘m sorry, but, I- I can’t, not- not like this.”

She nods, and as he looks at her face, he’s realises that he’s surprised that she doesn’t look even the slightest bit annoyed.

“Shhhh” her voice hushes him fondly, “Don’t apologise, sweetheart.”

He hates himself for being this way. He knows she just want’s to help. He knows he needs her to take care of him, but right now, he just doesn’t know how to let her.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked softly, “What’s freakin’ you out?”

Bucky feels his brow furrow in consideration.

He’d been okay, still a little, rattled, and nervous, but okay, when she was still touching him, when he could still feel her skin on his, it was when she’d moved away that he’d found himself fighting against the urge to run back into her embrace.

“I- I need to feel you” he whispers, feeling a flush of embarrassment filling his cheeks, making them burn even hotter than before, “I need you close.”

Y/N nods, her lips pursing in understanding.

“How about this-” she begins calmly, “- I can sit up here-” hands pat his thighs, making his eyes shoot down before they flick back up to hers, “-and I promise, I’ll be take it real easy”

Bucky’s head is bleary now, but he can feel his side beginning to throb. Y/N looks like her offer is genuine, and he’s nodding in frantic agreement before he has time to even thank her.

She chuckles softly, bringing herself up onto the mattress, before she effortlessly straddles his hips.

He moans at the sensation. At the warmth, and weight and comfort it breeds inside his body.

Her head tilts as one hand snakes its way back up to his hair.

“Look at me, Buck”

He does. His eyes are in danger of glazing over again, now that the adrenaline spike he’d experienced is on its way back towards a crash, but he still focus’s all his energy on staring back into her familiar brown eyes.

She looks calm, and that settles him.

“Breathe”

He does that too, inhaling as softly as he can through his nose, before expelling it quietly through his lips.

“Good” Y/N praises, “I’m right here”

Bucky nods, because he can feel her, and see her and he knows he’s safe when she’s close by.

She takes a few more minutes to stroke his cheeks, to shower him with the kind of gentle touches he’d spent a century being starved of.

and then she grabs the disinfected soaked cloth, and smiles at his face,

“I’m gonna’ start, now, alright?”

He bites his tongue until he tastes blood, and tries to keep his eyes connected with hers, even as he nods and mutters out a quiet, “yes”

Y/N lets her gaze linger on his face for a moment, she can see the apprehension clinging to his features, and can’t help but give his cheek an affectionate stroke.

“If you wan’t me to stop, tell me, okay Buck?”

His exhale is juddery as he brings his flesh hand up to her leg that’s soft and constant against him.

“I- I will”

It’s watery and quiet, but it’s a promise. Y/N nods, and lets her free palm sit heavily on his chest as she leans over to inspect the slash that’s a good few inches long, just below his lowest rib.

She tuts a little as she begins to dab away the mess of dried blood that’s stuck to the surrounding skin.

The gauze is quickly stained, so she replaces it, meeting his eyes as she moves.

He relishes the flickered glance, he uses it to steady himself as he draws comforting circles against the material of her pants.

They’re soft, he thinks, and black, he can’t decide wether they’re sweats or leggings but he doesn’t care.

They’re hers and he likes them.

They feel nice against his fingers, and everything alright-

until then it stings.

Y/N is stroking a clean, piece of fabric that is dripping with sterilising liquid across the open wound and it hurts and his eyes are watering.

Bucky is frozen, eyes tightly shut, lips a tight line on his face.

He’s been hurt before. He’s been hurt worse than this, before, but back then he had no choice about how he reacted.

Usually, he was kept masked and muzzled, his jaw fixed open with taught leather straps biting into his head to keep him from screaming out, or catching his breath.

Or failing that, whichever handler happened to be around would give him instruction regarding his responses to pain or punishments.

If they told him to keep his mouth shut, or bite down on a belt, that’s exactly what he’d do, no matter the intensity of the treatment he received because disobedience wasn’t an option.

He didn’t even get to cry without permission. He’d learnt that quite early on, when he’d made the mistake of pleading for mercy before a wipe.

After that, Bucky had known that he was never going to be able to beg them to stop.

But that was back then, in a different world, a different life, where his body wasn’t his own, when he’d been an asset, in every sense of the word.

Y/N eases up, and returns her attention to his face.“I’m sorry, sweetheart”

He hates that. He doesn’t want her to be sorry. She’s doing her best, she’s helping him, but if he opens his mouth to tell her that, part of him can’t help but worry that he might end up in trouble for some kind of audible expression of discomfort that he should be more than able to control.

Self-loathing settles in his chest.

but then, her hand touches his cheek, and suddenly the bitter frustration leaves him, and he finds himself just feeling small.

“I love you” Y/N reminds him calmly, “I love you and I’m not trying to hurt you, I know it’s sore, and I’m sorry”

Bucky’s eyes are filling up as he shakes his head a fraction. He swallows against the lump in his throat and pulls her hand to his lips.

She hasn’t even tried to remove her fingers from his, and that means the world to him.

He kisses her knuckles and hopes that it shows.

Y/N smiles softly, and runs the hand that she’s been using to clean his wound back through his hair.

His eyes roll back in his head. He never wants her to stop.

“You’re doing so well” she murmurs, “do you need anythin’? we’re almost done, sweetheart, I promise”

You. He wants to scream, You, doll, I need you, please don’t leave me, please don’t stop, it’s been so long since anyones just, held me, please don’t go.

He’s silent, but Y/N can see something behind his gaze, it’s desperate and pleading and she can’t let it go.

“Talk to me, Buck, it’s okay.”

Bucky feels like a deer caught in the headlights. He has so much he wants to say, but his head is still spinning, and his side is throbbing angrily now that it’s been disturbed.

Still, he knows he has to try, he knows he won’t be able to take it if he doesn’t.

“I-” their tangled hands drop to his chest, she still has one in his hair, it’s by his ear now, her fingers are circling his temple, “- I, adore ya’ doll-”

She smiles, it’s small and flattered, but she knows there’s something wrong, and that concern shows in the crease of her brow.

“-‘m tryin’ to be brave-” Bucky gulps, “-it was easier when I.. When I wasn’t allowed to not be.”

Y/N nods softly to show she understands,

“But, I’m tired and it hurts-” his voice sounds strangely ashamed and that paired with the lost expression on his face tugs are heart strings until one almost snaps in her chest, “-but I, I know it needs to be done, and I know you’re not out to hurt me-” Bucky is squeezing her hand now, he doesn’t know why he can’t seem to stop speaking, “-god, doll, I’m scared you’re gonna leave me.”

She blinks at him, because she doesn’t know where that confession has come from, but as he just sniffs back another wave of tears, she just shakes her head, assuming all of his worries are just mixing together in some kind of unpleasant emotional fog.

“-am-” he mumbles after a small pause, “am I okay to make noise? when you get back to it?”

Y/N feels that piece of her heart shatter.

Bucky is looking at her with such hopeless trust, with such deep and unwavering faith and obedience that it frightens her just how easily he’s slipped back down into the persona he’d been forced into for the better part of a hundred years.

“Yeah” she whispers, her voice dripping with love, “Yeah, baby, you can make all the noise you want”

He nods, it’s grateful and small and Y/N’s hand drops down to his jaw.

She guides his head up a fraction as she leans down to kiss at his lips.

and just like that, Bucky’s whole world disappears again, but this time it’s brilliant.

All he can feel is mouth against his, and it’s just the best.

They’ve kissed before. More times than he can count, and every time they do, he thinks it feels like fireworks. It feels magical and special and perfect.

But now, he’s breathless, and her tongue is on his own, and his hands have slipped up to her waist and god, he doesn’t care that he’s scared or hurting or in danger of crying again, all he cares about is how lucky he is that he didn’t lose his tongue during some kind of traumatic event, how lucky he is that Y/N chose him to love, and how lucky he is that she takes such good care of him.

Y/N pulls away when they’re both flushed and Bucky’s lips are pink and swollen from the contact.

His head is hazy, but he lets it fall back to the pillows and makes himself give her a nod of agreement when she whispers her intentions of finishing her previous task.

She leans away a little more this time, knowing he can take it.

A hand tightens around hers as the balance shifts to the side, but she just strokes a circle with her thumb as she peers at the gash that’s now a little more clearly visible.

Something touches the frayed tissue and he lets out a small whine of protest.

The pressure lessens almost instantly, and he takes another breath in.

“‘m not going to stitch it” Y/N decides after a few minutes of consideration, “not worth puttin’ you through that for the good it’d do.”

Bucky exhales in relief.

He wouldn’t have stopped her, if she’d have wanted to follow through with the earlier plan of sewing the opening shut, but he can’t deny how unappealing it sounds, especially in his current state of mind.

“But you’ll have to take it easy for awhile” she murmurs, peeling the back off a heavy duty dressing, “is that a deal, sweetheart?”

His smile is just the smallest quirk of his lips, but she takes it all the same.

“you’re the doctor” he whispers shakily, feeling her press something down over the sensitive area of skin, “I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”

Y/N caresses the covered wound one last time before trailing her fingers back over to his jaw.

“I am a doctor” She agrees quietly, “but all I want you to do-” her breath is hot on his cheek, “-is relax, okay? Just stay with me until you’re feelin’ better, let me look after you.”

God, that sounds good to him right now, so Bucky nods, and exhales and tries not to whine when Y/N slips off his thighs.

He instantly feels the loss, and it’s almost unbearable.

Blue eyes snap over to watch her, to make sure that she hasn’t disappeared,

Luckily, he sees that she hasn’t gone far at all.

Her body has slipped down cradle to his uninjured side.

She stays there for a moment, nestled between his core and his flesh arm, as she watches him, stare at her, until with a small, humouring smile, she curls an arm up around his shoulder to beckon him into her embrace.

“Come on” she murmurs, “Come’ere”

Bucky moves slowly.

He tries to ignore the way that his body still feels strangely heavy as he rolls over to press his face into the crook of Y/N’s neck.

He loves being hidden against her body. He wishes he could get closer.

Y/N feels his cool metal arm curling up over her waist and can’t help but run her hands up over the folded vibranium plates.

She loves him, all of him, and it shows.

“You’re beautiful” her soft voice coos, he thinks it sounds like music, even if he doesn’t believe her words.

Bucky scoffs quietly as he feels fingers fluttering up over the deep set scar of his shoulder blade.

“You are” Y/N insists, sensing his disbelief, “you’re perfect”

God, he’s blushing again, he can feel the pink in his cheeks.

“If you say so” Bucky murmurs, unwilling to counter the woman, even in jest.

“I do”

She’s smiling, it’s plain in her voice.

Bucky’s vaguely aware that he’s shaking again, but he thinks that the sensation it feels less urgent now.

The vibrations spreading through his core feel like aftershocks, like pale imitations of the involuntary convulsions that had been clawing at his chest before, and since he doesn’t have the energy left to try and fight them back, he decides to just try his best to ignore the feeling in favour of focusing his attention on the way that Y/N is holding him so securely against her chest.

As if on cue, she begins to run her hands up and down his back. Her fingers make slow movements, occasionally flitting up, to stroke the nape of his neck before dipping back down to his spine.

Bucky’s eyes flutter shut as the soft digits circle the long healed mark that’s raised and pulsing at the back of his head.

That scar is one of the most sensitive ones on his body, it had been home to a tracker once, until he’d taken a dull flick-blade too it in a dimly lit motel room back in Budapest; his memories had been just starting to resurface then, and it’d been the first time that he’d realised how HYDRA had been able to find his locations so easily.

Bucky had made quick work of the task, he’d been driven frantic by a pure, primal kind of fear, and even though the dull knife hadn’t made easy work of the removal, once the small metal device had been plucked from his tissue with his own metal fingers, he’d felt a strange sense of freedom.

“Stop” Y/N murmurs, her muted voice swirling around his head, “I don’t know what you’re thinkin’ about, but you’re tensin’ up again, sweetheart.”

Bucky hums against her shoulder and acknowledges the way his muscles have grown tight again, in his moment of distraction.

“‘m sorry, doll” he whispers, “‘m not doin’ it on purpose’”

Y/N shakes her head, pressing a kiss to his hair.

“I know” she tells him, “I just worry about you when you drift off like that, ‘specially while you’re so tired.”

He nods then, he knows she’s right, he knows that the way his mind keeps floating back to the past isn’t totally in his control, and he knows that, that could lead to something terrible.

“How was the mission?” Y/N asks in a not-so-subtle bid to distract the man in her arms, “I haven’t caught up with Nat yet”

Bucky shrugs, before murmuring a “nothin’ special, doll” that makes Y/N chuckle softly, and press another kiss to his head.

“You get the plans?” she asks, already knowing that they had.

“‘sure we did” Bucky whispers, “Romanoff’s quick with tech, she’s good like that.”

Y/N nods considerately, feeling a cold hand playing with the hem of her t-shirt.

“I know you like working with her”

The man makes a non committal noise in the back of his throat,

“I prefer workin’ with you”

There’s a small laugh then, he can feel it melting into his hair and it helps his pulse settle a fraction.

“I bet you do” she mumbles sweetly, “but being your side-kick isn’t my only job”

Bucky actually feels himself smiling then, it feels a little out of place on his face, but it’s the furthest thing from unwelcome, so he relishes in it, relishes in the dull ache of his cheeks as his lips curl up at the corners.

“No” he hears himself say, “You’re in very high demand.”

Y/N hums, relaxing a little.

“You’re a doctor… the best doctor in this whole joint” Bucky begins to drawl, his own fingers now tracing lazy circles across the skin of her waist.

He’d been half expecting her to flinch at the feeling of harsh vibranium against her body, but she just let out a soft, content breath and shifted a millimetre closer.

“You’re a tech-genius too” he continues, “and a-”

There’s a pressure on his chin, tilting his head up, and suddenly as Y/N’s kind, loving gaze meets his, he’s silent, the words he was about to speak have been totally forgotten.

“Are you tryna’ flatter me, sweetheart?” She coos, her palm hot on his cheek, holding his head in place, “you must be sweet on me or somethin’”

He smiles again, and kisses as the warm flesh of her hand.

“‘m more than that, doll” his words melt against her skin, “it’s like you hung the damn’ moon”

God, she’s laughing again, it’s light and musical and he’s completely aware that he’s in real deep.

“Mhmm?” Y/N hums, “Is that right?”

He nods, and lets his eyes drop shut.

“Here’s me thinkin’ that I was just hear to pay the rent”

His brow creases, but only for a moment, only until she kisses at his lips.

“‘m only jokin’” she purrs as he lets her pull back a fraction, "Tony likes havin' me near by too"

Bucky smiles, his eyes still closed, her fingers still hot on his cheek.

“yeah” he breathes, “ and, you’re Natasha’s favourite, can’t forget about that.”

She snorts, it’s fond and playful as she tugs at a long strand of hair that’s looped behind his ear.

“Well now, that’s supposed to be a secret” she whispers, her voice low and swirling around his throat.

“Not a very well kept one” he counters cheekily, bravely stirring in his chest at the nature of the interaction, “you’re always talkin’ about stuff you do together, always whisperin’ about what you danced to at her wedding-”

“-In Russian.”

He beams, pressing a soft kiss to her jaw before nodding in lazy acceptance.

“You’re lucky she trusts ya’ so much” Y/N adds, nuzzling back against the man who’s still keening against her front, “Or you might have gotten more than just a tellin’ off for eaves droppin”

Theres a gentle hum against her skin, and then another kiss.

“you’d never let her hurt me, doll.”

“No.” Y/N allows, “I’d never let anyone hurt you.”

Bucky is perched on the end of the bed, hair hanging lamely in-front of his face. Both his metal and flesh hands flex on his lap, he feels his nails bare down onto his jeans, but he ignores it, not even bothering to try and pull his eyes upwards, away from the same spot on the ground that he’d been staring at blankly for the better part of fifteen minutes.

Y/N pushes the door to their room open, it doesn’t creak, but the bottom does offer up a low scraping sound as it skims the plush carpet that the youngest Stark had insisted they had installed in the suite.

“Buck?”

Her voice is soft, softer than he’d expected her greeting to be, anyway.

He tries not to flinch at the use of his name, which despite its quiet volume and the gentle intentions of the woman using it, still seems awfully foreign to his ears.

The door shuts with a dull click, and he can’t help but tense his shoulders, pulling them back until the muscles are taught enough to distract him from the way his head is aching.

“Bucky”

This time, there’s no questioning in her voice. She’s not calling to him in the hopes of a response. He thinks the word is thick with pity, and he can’t bare it.

His cold metal hand reaches up to paw at his eyes. He pushes back against it until it hurts, until he sees stars and the stinging of tears is all but depleted.

“Hey” Y/N soothes, dropping to her knees between his legs, “It’s alright”

She doesn’t touch him yet, she just settles back on her haunches and lets out a sigh.

Bucky can’t tell if its ladened with disappointment or despair, but he feels a burning need to apologise, anyway.

He opens his mouth to speak, but a sob threatens to leap from his chest, so he clenches his jaw, he locks his mouth closed and grinds his teeth together in a futile attempt to hold it back.

Y/N shakes her head softly, reaching up to cup his cheek.

The heat of her hand jars him at first. With the way his eyes had fallen shut, the contact had startled him, and the lingering feeling of contact without pain felt eerily out of place against the back drop of adrenaline that his fight or flight response was still offering up.

Bucky sucks in a harsh breath through his nose, and tries not to pull away.

She hushes him gently, letting her fingers graze his cheek in an effort to remind him that she doesn’t mean him harm.

In no time at all, he’s leaning into her touch, using the gentle pressure to centre himself.

Pleased with this reaction, her other hand comes up to brush long chocolate strands back behind his ears, and Bucky can’t help but blink his eyes back open, and focus them in on her face.

Y/N is smiling, it’s genuine, and proud and Bucky doesn’t think she pities him at all anymore.

She loves him, and it shows.

“‘m sorry”

His voice is a gruff whisper. He forces himself to swallow as she shakes her head and draws herself closer to his body.

“It’s okay,” Y/N swears, steadying herself between his parted thighs, “everything’s okay.”

Bucky doesn’t believe her.

He doesn’t remember how he got here, he doesn’t remember why he’s so upset, and that isn’t a good sign at all.

His mind races backwards in an attempt to retrace his steps.

The mission he’d been on was clear, it’d been a small, easy recon job, he’d gone with Natasha Romanoff.

He quite liked working with the spy, even if she did occasionally bark at him in russian.

Y/N watches as the man’s eyes glaze over, before eventually dropping shut.

She lets him retreat into himself, knowing that he’s using her presence to do so in a way that feels safer than the alternative option of solitude.

Bucky winces, when he finally recalls the gash in his side. He’d pushed the widow out of the way and been caught with a blade for his trouble.

It’s all terribly clear, then. He remembers her thanking him and glaring at his ribs. He remembers the wound throbbing angrily as he pressed the fabric of his vest into it, in an attempt to slow the bleeding.

Metal fingers flutter over to that spot on his bare torso, it finds a mess of thick, warm blood and open skin.

It aches as he prods along its edges, and he can feel the stickiness of the liquid clinging to his body.

And then, just like that, Bucky knows what happened.

Steve had insisted that he get it seen to properly.

He’d tried to argue, to remind the Captain how he’d had much worse over the years, and how the serum in his veins would have the frayed skin looking like new in a few hours, without the need to bother Dr. Banner or the other medical staff with something as stupid as stitching the equivalent of a paper cut.

But in the end he’d surrendered to the fatherly tone and the blatant concern in his oldest friends voice, and so he’d let the man lead him down into the lower levels of the tower, and assured him of how fine he was, even as he’d been unceremoniously stripped out of his tactical vest by a stranger dressed in white clinical gear.

He’d even been excited to see Y/N, despite the fact that he hadn’t envisioned seeing the woman he loved for the first time that day, whilst laying flat on his back on a hard metal table.

Still, he’d been just fine until, Steve had gone to fetch her from where she’d been laughing with Bruce in the adjacent room.

At that point, Bucky Barnes had found himself unable to fixate on any familiar faces, and when met with the lack of that particular distraction, the surface he was on, had suddenly felt a little too cold.

His head had started to spin, and his skin had begun to crawl with memories of the intravenous mixture that used to always accompany rooms that looked almost identical to the one that he was in.

They’d tie him down and pump him full of chemicals that he’d sworn were liquid fire, or, had they drugged him before tying him down?

He expected it’d been a bit of both, he figured that might depend on when it was, on who his owners where.

It wasn’t worth the risk of waiting to find out if it was already too late.

Bucky had bolted upright. He’d tried to catch his breath and remember where he was, but suddenly all he could hear was the beeping of machinery, and the chatter of unseen faces that was just clouded enough to seem like a plausible threat.

He’d been up and moving, though, he didn’t quite remember running.

The sound of his boots on the floors had been the most familiar thing to him at that moment, maybe that’s why he hadn’t stopped. Or maybe that was the anxiety linked muscular response that Bruce kept telling him about.

Either way, thinking back, his quick exit must’ve caused quite a stir, because there had definitely been a siren, and flashing lights that had only served to intensify Bucky’s need to escape.

Lock-downs and rewires, and clean-slates and, cryo-chambers and slack jawed handlers were all he could picture as the rooms and floors of the tower he now called home came crumbling down around him.

Some deep-routed instinct had lead him to the last place he’d felt safe.

With hands grazing the walls in a last ditch attempt to keep himself above metaphorical water, Bucky had found himself back in his room, staring at the bed where his lover had been sleeping when he’d left her early this morning.

He’d let himself head towards the soft surface that seemed to be the only stable thing in the room, and then he’d been still. Sure, his breaths had continued to rip up threw his chest in a violent and terrified rhythm, but Bucky Barnes had found himself, very suddenly, not moving at all.

He’s knows he’s panting again now, as he continues to wrack his brain for the few parts of the journey that are still missing.

Did anyone try and stop him? Did he break something important? Did he hurt someone?

“Bucky” Y/N coos, a palm sliding over his flesh hand, she knows it’s still pressing down on his thigh with enough force to leave a bruise and she feels herself frowning at it unhappily, until he relaxes it a fraction at her touch “Look at me.”

The man hadn’t realised that his eyes had stayed shut, but, he does as she asks, and drags his gaze upwards.

“It’s alright”

She says again, it’s firm but kind.

His head tilts a little as he offers her a disbelieving expression.

Y/N chuckles softly, her fingers curling against his temple.

Bucky has to bite back a pathetic whimper at how nice it feels.

He fights the urge to pull away in an act of self punishment. He doesn’t deserve to feel comforted. He doesn’t even know why he’s upset, but he knows she doesn’t like it when he does that too himself, so he tries to ignore the nagging feeling of unworthiness that’s ever-present in his mind.

“Do you know what spooked you?” She asks earnestly, “So we don’t do it again?”

His back tenses again, shame pulls his blue eyes back to the floor and he forces another dry swallow as he readies himself to speak.

“I-“ Bucky begins, “I don’t like med-bays.”

It sounds terribly childish, when he hears it out-loud, but Y/N nods slowly, an understanding look on her face.

“You’re hurt-” her calm voice murmurs, “- and you’ve been down there before, and you’ve been alright.”

She wasn’t sure if that reminder would be particularly well received, but when she notices the redness creeping up Bucky’s neck to his cheeks, she realises it wasn’t.

“I don’t mean it like that” Y/N corrects quickly, not wanting him to add, ‘I’ve done better before’ to his list of self-deprecating thoughts, “I-“

Bucky Hears her sigh again, but it definitely sounds frustrated this time.

He’s almost worried about the implication of the noise, but then he notices the way that her hands are still soft on his skin- they’re stabilising and kind, and he doesn’t think she’s angry at him, he hopes she’s not, anyway, because he’s really not sure he could take that.

“-I just wanted to know if we did somethin’ different, this time, Buck. Somethin’ that upset you.” Her voice isn’t tight or irritated, that calms him a fraction.

He shakes his head carefully, not wanting her to pull her hand away from his face.

“Just panicked” Bucky confesses, “Rodgers left to grab ya’ and I- I forgot where I was”

His voice is cracking with shame and lingering pain, and Y/N feels her heart strings tighten as she sees how hard on himself he’s being.

“That’s alright” she swears again, “You didn’t hurt anyone, you didn’t do anythin’ other than leave.”

His blue eyes are on hers again. He’s trying to steady himself, she can tell.

Bucky flips his flesh hand over to clutch at hers. He plays with her fingers for a second before inhaling long and slow.

Y/N takes that as her cue to move. She rises to her feet slowly, keeping one hand entwined with his as the other slips round to the nape of his neck.

He knows he should follow her. He knows he should stand and go wherever she wants to lead him. But he can’t, or won’t, or just, god, he realises, he just doesn’t want to move at all.

“Is it sore?” She wonders, eyeing the murky slash that’s still leaking fresh blood in a thin line down his side.

She lets him rest his brow against her stomach as she takes a small step closer towards him.

Bucky shakes his head, he feels the fabric of her t-shirt sticking to his brow and he’s suddenly acutely aware that he’s still half naked.

There’s no shame in that, not with her, but he hates how scarred he must look right now. The white lines of tissue that mare his torso pair well with the shattered remains of his sanity, he thinks grimly that it’s almost fitting that he’s so visibly damaged, it’s like a warning to others that he’s dangerous, that they should stay away-

Y/N hums considerately, the noise is light and nonjudgemental and Bucky makes his shoulders sag in a lame attempt at forced relaxation.

She’s watching him as he does so, she sees his posture droop and lets her gaze continue to sweep over him as she continues to weigh up how urgently he might require medical attention.

“I don’t feel good” he mumbles quietly, “I can’t go back there”

She knows he’s not just talking about the med-bay, she knows he’s terrified.

He doesn’t see her nod, but he does feel her knuckles grazing the deep set scar that’s usually hidden by a tangle of hair at the very base of his skull.

It’s affectionate, it’s gentle and soothing.

“I know.” Y/N replies at last, “You’re not going anywhere”

It’s a promise, Bucky can hear it in her tone, it’s the same tone she has when she tells him she loves him, when she tells him he’s safe and home for good.

Another sob claws at his throat. He tenses again, trying to force it down, but he can’t quite manage to lock his jaw in time, and with a pitiful shiver, it erupts from his lips, leaving him hidden and blushing into the thin cotton veil of Y/N’s top.

He hopes in vain that she’s missed it, but as her arms tighten around him, securing him in her embrace, Bucky Barnes knows he’s caught. He knows he can’t hide from the beautiful woman who’s keeping him safe, and then, in another horrible moment of clarity, he realises that he just can’t hold back anymore.

Y/N slips the hand he’s not holding lower, until it’s flush against the middle of his back. She rubs small circles between his shoulders and she squeezes his flesh palm supportively as he begins to accept the loss of control that she knows is inevitable.

The stinging behind his eyes is overwhelming, now. The pressure is building inside his head, and he can feel his lower lip trembling.

Her voice is telling him that it’s okay to cry, that he’s okay to let go.

Bucky doesn’t want to cry. He’s ashamed enough as it is. He feels weak enough, as it is, but when another sob shakes through him, he doesn’t even try to stop it, he just prays it’s just one more, that he’ll magically regain some self control and be able to pull himself together, but, it’s not, just one, there’s two more, and then three more, and then four, and then before he knows what’s happening he’s weeping.

It’s loud, and wet and painful.

Y/N holds him tighter, murmuring sweet words into his hair as he tries to stifle his wailing.

If Bucky hadn’t been scared before, he’s definitely afraid now; he’s choking on air and it’s making him dizzy, and his vision glazes over before his eyes drop shut, and he realises that it feels like he’s drifting in and out of his own mind as his body betrays him, again.

“Shhhh, now” Y/N purrs, her nails grazing his back, “You’re alright”

Barnes can hear her voice, he can hear her promising him that everything’s okay. But it sounds strangely far away, everything, he thinks, sounds strangely far away. He tries to focus on his own strangled cries, because surely those should seem close, and real and loud, but even they seem like they’re coming from somewhere else.

“Bucky” her voice croons, bubbling over the imagined distance and capturing his attention, “Listen to me-”

Y/N drops to her knees again, she’s cradling his face in her hands, the skin of his cheeks is hot and damp from tears, he lets his head hang low and she feels the weight of it fall into her palms.

“You’re not going anywhere.” she promises, “you’re okay, I’m here, you’re stayin’ with me”

Bucky sniffs, trying to come back to himself.

“Breathe” Y/N instructs, “I’ve got you, Bucky, just breathe for me, it’s okay.”

He obeys as much as he can, dragging a full, cold breath into his lungs, before coughing it out with a whimper.

She nods in approval as he continues to try and correct the way he’d been hyperventilating before.

“Good”

The praise breaks through everything else, and stirs something nice in his chest.

Bucky wants to be good. He want’s to be the best he can be.

He thinks he’s on the right track with that train of thought, until the voices in his head begin to shift towards condescending, and he realises that he can’t alter them to anything else. His head shakes a fraction as he’s overcome with a flash of a long dead handler looming above him, rattling off a long list of commands that he had barely been able to follow, even back then, when obeying had been his sole reason for existing.

A slap hits his cheek in the memory, and he assumes he’s done something wrong, although he has no idea what it could be.

He knows he’s trying his hardest, he was always trying his hardest.

“you want to be the best, don’t you solider?”

The voice is right in his ear. It’s all around him, and he wants to scream. He does scream, but he’s not sure if it’s real, or just in his head.

“Shhhh” Y/N exhales, looking at the man who’s now quaking with a mixture of horror and exertion with nothing but fondness and concern, “you’re with me, remember? Nobodies going to hurt you.”

Bucky knows he’s slipping. He clutches onto her waist like she’s a raft in the middle of a turbulent ocean and it’s all he can do not to get swept away.

At some point, Y/N’s fingers have found there way back up to his hair, she’s caressing the tangled strands by his ears with one hand, as the other cups his jaw to support his unsteady position.

He whines as she tugs at the lengths. It’s a desperate, needy sound, but he doesn’t care. He loves her. He loves the feeling of her skin on his. He loves the way she touches his hair.

“Good” she murmurs again, “You’re doing so good, Buck. It’s going to be okay.”

Bucky feels his chest aching. It’s like his heart is trying to break free from his body and get closer to hers.

He wonders absentmindedly if she knows how utterly devoted to her, he is.

Y/N considers his face again, she brushes his lower lip with her thumb and smiles at his attempts at deep-breathing.

She leans forwards a little, and Bucky feels her lips grazing his brow. He leans into the touch and cries a little less harshly as the heat of her mouth remains on his face.

“I love you” her voice swirls around his skin, her words vibrate against his skull and Bucky wishes that they could chisel themselves into his mind so he could hear them forever, “I love you, so much, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Bucky doesn’t think Y/N has any idea how flattered he is when she calls him that. He doesn’t think she knows how precious her terms of endearment make him feel.

She’s repeating how much she adores him when his chest finally relaxes. The air is expelled from his lungs in a huff, and all the tension from his shoulders despepates, leaving him feeling empty and drained.

Suddenly he realises that he’s not crying anymore. He’s just, shaking and whimpering as he hears her pet name, over and over and over again, looping softly inside his mind like a prayer.

Something must have shown on his face, because when he blinks unsure eyes up to hers, Y/N is gazing at him with a strange expression that seems equal parts protective and proud.

She’s still on his level, there’s adoration pouring out of her in waves.

Bucky feels like he’s made of broken glass, and she’s the only thing holding him together.

“Sweetheart?”

It’s thick with love, it’s dripping in tenderness and fondness and everything good in the world.

“You like that, huh?”

She’s not mocking him, he knows she’s not, she sounds genuinely curious, but when he just blinks slowly, letting cold tears drip from his eyelashes, she decides not to press, she can see from that, that he likes it and that’s enough of a reason for her to call him it forever.

Y/N smiles again, and Bucky can’t believe he’s hers.

He can’t believe that his century of life has lead him to something as good, and pure as her.

“I know you’re scared-” she whispers, as he swipes at his eyes with metal fingers that are still tinted with blood from his wound. “-but you’re okay, everthing’s alright.”

Bucky offers her a shaky nod to convey the faith he wants to have in her statement.

She lessens the hold she has on his face, and strokes his cheeks with tender affection.

He feels the pads of her fingers clearing away tear tracks, and sniffles a little in response to the vulnerability he’s feeling under her gaze.

God, he loves her.

Telling her that seems important, now.

She’s heard him say it before, of course.

They’ve been together a while, and he’s not shy about confessing the depth of his affections for his partner, in fact, the other inhabitants of the tower loved to tease him about the way he clings to Y/N’s side. They say he’s love-sick, and over-protective. He knows that they’re right, so he just shrugs at the comments and tells her that she’s his world.

Usually she laughs, her face lighting up with sheer elation, as she pecks a kiss on his cheek and tells him that they feelings mutual.

He wants to see her looking at him like that now. But he can’t make himself speak. He can’t make the words leave his lips, he supposes he’s holding back because he’s afraid of losing control again, but with the way that Y/N is watching him calmly, her brown eyes shining, he can’t bring himself to feel too badly about his lack of bravery. She seems to think it’s okay for him to be this weak sometimes, and if she thinks that, then maybe he should too.