#exsergeantbarnes

Tony was hurting. His armor was broken and torn to shreds, and his body wasn’t doing much better. But he was near someone familiar- Or at least as familiar as trying to kill someone and then fighting against a God together can be. He dragged himself to where he had been told the other was staying, wincing with every step. God, did he hurt. He was tired, his body getting weaker with each step.

Tony made his way to the ex soldiers door, pounding on it with the hand still covered by the suit. Tony sat himself on the floor, a bit of blood dripping from his mouth. “James- Bucky, it’s Tony. Please- Please open up. I’m hurt- It... I need help.”

A low grunt ripped past James’ lips, the sound quickly devolving into an irked snarl. Cerulean eyes flashed, incredulous, distrustful of the captain’s intent. Cybernetics hummed and clicked, metal fist clenching at his side, prepping for a fight. “..What are you doing?”

“Quiet, be quiet,” Steve hissed out between almost clenched teeth, praying that Bucky wasn’t going to struggle. His hand curled around the shoulder he had pushed against the wall - the flesh shoulder, Steve couldn’t help but notice right in that moment - and his heart was hammering, but he had acted entirely on instinct. There hadn’t been time to do anything else.

My Steve muse has been in overdrive lately and apparently, I can art now. Well, he’s been in overdrive in everything but replies, unfortunately. So here, have a sketch of Bucky that Steve apparently drew in 1936. I plan on drawing others. 

Continued from here.

“I know you like struttin’ your strength all over camp Rogers, but this is just ridiculous.” James flexed his wrists beneath Steve’s grasp, lightly testing his strength, figuring out exactly how much power it would take to break free. Ya’ know, should the need arise. James flashed a half-cocked smile. Bastards grip was ironclad. Never ceased to amaze him.

“No, yes? Actually...I heard your voice and it didn’t sound good to me. So I have to check if you’re okay,” Steve answered, still sitting beside Bucky. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch him when his friend was in panic state, hence the smaller man just kept still and calling his name as gentle as possible. Reassuring that he was safe, wherever he was right now, it wasn’t real. It was just a dream. He was safe in here.