#reference to assault

“What can I do?” Bucky asked, the worry making its way down from his furrowed brow and out through his mouth.

After waking to find the side of the bed she’d been sleeping on for the past two nights empty, Bucky traced Y/n to the couch burrowed tight under the plush throw blanket, staring off into space.

She couldn’t find the words to respond, because she hadn’t even registered his question. She was unmoving though her expression looked worn, like a stone statue that was lost and forgotten in an overgrown garden. Beautiful yet weathered by more storms than anyone should have faced.

The anxiety of the first appointment for the reporting process that morning made her rise well before the birds. She had left the warmth and comfort of sharing Bucky's bed to avoid disturbing him. It took no time before she had fallen down a rabbit hole of what ifs.

What if she had rushed into things with Bucky? What if she wasn’t ready to start anything with him? What if she would never be ready for a relationship? What if she couldn’t get over it? What if he was just helping her because he felt sorry for her? What if this whole fucked up situation became too much for him and he left? What if—

“Y/n, sweetheart, I can see you’re waging a war with yourself in there—” Bucky gently tapped a finger on her temple, partially to demonstrate his words, partially in hopes he might pull her out of her spiral, “—and whatever it is, I wanna help you win. So why don’t you try sharing one part with me and we can take it from there, yeah?”

With his touch succeeding at helping her register his presence, Y/n looked towards Bucky, eyes red-rimmed and wide, dark circles etched beneath them. Her knees were pulled in tight to her chest, arms wrapping around her shins. Her mouth opened and closed slowly as she searched for where to begin. A jumping off point that might help navigate her way out of the dark cavern she had lost herself in.

Finally a word, “I…”

Then another, “I’m scared…”

And another, “... that…”

Until they slowly trickled out, barely above a whisper, “... that this is too much for you… for me… that I’m using you… that …”

Y/n took several deep breaths before continuing to her final destination.

“... that I won’t be able to go through with this. That I won’t be able to handle the final decision.”

Bucky sighed long and slow, his chest aching with how much Y/n was being forced to carry.

“All of those fears make sense,” he validated, pausing before continuing. “Could I tell you what I think?”

Y/n nodded, turning her head to rest an ear on her knees that were still pulled in close.

“I can’t say whether or not this is too much for you. Though I’ll say how fucking strong you are and I’m in awe of how you’ve been handling all of this—”

“I wouldn’t call this handling it,” she chuckled.

“Ok, fair enough,” he appeased. “Then let me get to what I can speak to. This is not too much for me, Y/n. You are not too much for me. If you don’t want me around anymore, I'll understand and respect that. I can call Natasha and Wanda for you and they’ll be here in a few hours. Nat already texted me this morning just in case you needed them.”

Y/n sniffed as she laughed at her friends. Gosh, how did she get so fucking lucky?

“The thing is, I mean…” he stumbled a bit before finding his footing, “We’ve built a friendship over the past few years. And a really fucking shitty situation has brought us even closer. I’m just being here for my friend in the way that I think she needs. And her trust in me is an honour and a privilege that I will accept until she decides she doesn’t want to give it to me anymore.”

The rogue tears that had seeped into Y/n’s sweatpants were now pouring off of her cheeks and streams.

“Do you trust me, Y/n?” Bucky asked softly.

“Y-yes,” she stammered out, sniffing hard, unable to unlock her arms that were still holding her legs.

“Then trust me when I tell you that you can use me as long as you want. I’m not going anywhere unless you ask. ‘K?”

“'K,” she whispered back, a few stuttered sobs shaking her form as she tried to steady her breathing.

“Can I hug you?”

As soon as Bucky saw her head nod, he turned so his bad shoulder was against the back of the couch, one leg half folded in, the other draped over the edge. Then stretching his other arm out, he pulled balled-up Y/n into his chest with a tight hold, making sure she felt the sincerity of his words in his embrace.

When he sensed her breathing even out, he started up again.

“Now, about that last part. If you want to stop this process at any time, you stop it. You’re the one who gets to decide. If you’re not comfortable with anything, you just squeeze my hand twice and I’ll have you back here or to your place with ice cream and blankets and a Miyazaki marathon so fast you’ll think it was all just a bad dream.”

Y/n laughed at Bucky’s seriousness, as if what he was proposing was simply a fact of nature.

“Y-you’re not going to be able to go in there with me though.”

“The fuck I won’t. I mean, if you don’t want me in there, that’s one thing. But you’re not doing any of this process without me, Nat, or Wanda by your side, unless you say otherwise, doll. We’ve already all decided.”

“Oh you have, have you?” she replied, leaning further into Bucky’s chest. If only she could press hard enough she might dissolve into the warmth, the she would be safe for eternity.

“That’s right, doll. Can’t push us away that easily,” he assured, voice low and warm as he rested his chin on her head.

“You’re one of the good ones, James, you know that?”

“So people have said,” he replied, pressing his lips into her hair.

Her stomach fluttered at his delicate gesture, as if it housed a caged bird. The warmth his lips kindled melted all of the what if’s into oblivion. Y/n found herself back above ground, in the arms of this person who was slowly collecting pieces of her heart—asking for permission with each piece and tucking them away for safekeeping, terrified he might have to one day give them all back, yet completely committed to holding onto them for as long as she would allow.

Bucky was unlike any man she had ever met. Maybe she wasn’t ready to map out their entire future, let alone next week. But she wasn’t ready to walk away from him either. So she gave in, letting herself be held. Allowing herself the solace of being taken care of—for once—by someone as wholly good and genuine as James Buchanan Barnes.

—–

“We don’t have to do this, hun.” Wanda offered.

“She’s right. We can just stay in and have BFF night and watch cheesy romance movies and stuff our faces with snacks,” Nat added.

“No, no. It’s fine,” Y/n said, not sounding fully convinced. “It’s just a small get-together at a bar... with the entire swim team. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The two friends gave each other a worried look, and Wanda moved to sit next to Y/n unravelling on her bed.

“I need to do this. I have to be able to do this—”

“You don’t have to do anything, Y/n. It hasn’t even been that long and if you’re not up for outings yet, then I think everyone would understand.”

Nat always had a way of touching on exactly what Y/n was thinking. She’d never been able to hide any emotion from the redhead, not even when they were little.

“It’s just… I’m so embarrassed,” she finally admitted.

“Oh, hun, why?” Wanda reached out, rubbing her friend’s shoulder as they sat on her bed.

“I mean, you two having to offer statements was one thing. But having to involve Steve and Sam? They barely know me, they don’t owe me anything. I guess, I just—”

“I get it, but I’m going to stop you right there,” Wanda said, cutting her friend off before she could spiral. “They’re Bucky’s best friends, right?”

Y/n nodded at Wanda’s question.

“And they were there that night, right?”

Another nod.

“And if tables were reversed and you had witnessed something happen to one of them, wouldn’t you want to help them?”

“Of course!”

The two friends simply offered Y/n smiles, albeit tinged with smugness.

“You two are the worst sometimes, you know that?” Y/n groaned, tossing a cushion at Natasha playfully before throwing the other one at Wanda.

“But you love us, right?” Natasha said, wiggling her eyebrows as she threw the pillow back onto the bed.

“Always. So much.”

“Awwww, group hug!” Wanda yelled, sending the two redheads into a frenzied smothering of their friend.

“Okay! Enough! I can’t breathe!” Y/n screamed between fits of laughter.

“Fine, but only because we want to keep you around,” Natasha said, releasing her embrace.

“Let’s get ready. I don’t know what y’all have planned for tonight, but I’m keen on getting to know Steve a bit more,” Natasha admitted coolly.

“Good, ‘cause I was hoping to chat more with that Sam guy,” Wanda replied with a coy grin.

“Oh my fucking god, we’re going to become swim team hoes,” Y/n moaned, rolling her head back.

“Speak for yourself! Not all of us are lucky enough to find a Bucky. Genuinely nice guys that are as sexy and smart as those two are hard to find these days,” Nat defended.

“Facts,” Wanda and Y/n replied in unison.

And with that they started to prepare for Y/n’s first night out in over a month.

—–

The bar was one of two on campus, and definitely the more lowkey of the pair. It had once been an old faculty lounge, split on two levels with a main open tabled area in front of an aged oak bar. The original wood wainscoting and cedar-green paint covered the walls, housing black and white framed photographs honouring old white men that may or may not have done important things at one time or another. Overhead stretched a mezzanine with more tables, leading to a long corridor that provided access to a set of two rooms for private events as well as washrooms.

The swim team always had the mezzanine reserved for them the last Saturday of every month, and that’s where the three friends found the guys.

“Hey! You made it!” Bucky’s face lit up when he saw Y/n arrive at the top of the burgundy carpeted stairs, as if she was the only person in the bar. A heat flooded her cheeks as she glanced down at her legs, suddenly overcome with anxiety to be meeting the team for the first time.

What if they knew about that night? They must know. They must think she's just damaged goods using Bucky for—

Bucky was out of his chair and placing a grounding touch to the small of her back before she even had time to turn to Nat or Wanda for assurance, or to run away and never come back.

“Just breathe, doll, you’re doing great,” he whispered in her ear before gently nudging them forward. “Guys, this is Y/n and her friends Natasha and Wanda. Steve and Sam you already know, these other goofballs are Tony, Peter, Scott, and Thor.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Y/n offered with a shaky smile as she managed to find her voice again, the two redheads greeting everyone with smiles and waves.

As if they had been on the same wavelengths, Steve and Sam pulled up chairs for Natasha and Wanda while Y/n found her place next to Bucky. Beers were ordered and the conversation flowed freely and easily after that. Bucky always kept his flesh hand on Y/n, whether it was on her arm, her thigh, or clasped around her fingers. An assurance that he was there. A tether in case she needed it. It worked. Y/n was laughing and chiming into stories about Bucky’s teen years growing up with Steve and Sam as if it had always been this way. The three couples and the rest of the swim team, bantering like old friends.

“You ok?” Bucky asked quietly as Y/n pulled her hand from his suddenly.

“Yup,” she nodded with a smile, “just need to use the washroom,” she assured before placing a peck on his cheek.

“Awwwwww,” the rest of the team teased, Thor and Scott pounding their beer mugs on the table for an encore.

“Guys, jeez, knock it off!” Bucky fumed, ears burning crimson. “Sorry, doll, I try so hard but they’re still animals.”

Y/n just chuckled, finding the team’s encouragement endearing. “They’re fine, Buck, don’t worry. I’ll be right back,” and with that she pushed the heavy wooden chair out and made her way down the hall.

The corridor was long, with more unmarked doors than she was expecting. The first two were locked, but the third opened into one of the private rooms, a boisterous group inside. Y/n slammed the door shut before she could register any of the faces of the people who turned towards her. Good one, Y/n. Finally, the last door at the end opened to the private washroom and she flooded with relief.

After drying her hands, she unlocked the door to step back into the corridor. It took her brain what felt like an eternity to catch up to the large arms that wrapped around her from behind. One hand covered her mouth while the other held a lighter to her face. The flint clicked and the orange light nearly blinded her in the dimness of the hallway.

“Don’t you even think about making a sound,” the hot breath came from the right side of her face. She didn’t need to smell the same stale yeast from the party to recognize the voice.

“I’m lucky you stumbled into my little soirée,” Quentin hissed into her ear. “You’re going to listen to me, and then I’ll let you go. If you don’t withdraw your complaint against me I will make sure that you, your friends, and your one-armed boyfriend never find employment anywhere. I don’t think you realize how connected my family is. You think you can take me down with one fucking complaint, you’ve got another thing coming. Do you understand?”

Y/n wanted to nod but she couldn’t seem to reconnect her brain to her body.

“I said, do you fucking understand?” he seethed, spittle landing onto her cheek.

Somehow, Y/n moved her head.

The lighter dropped as Quentin shoved Y/n to the ground before disappearing back down the corridor. Y/n didn’t see if he went back into the room or if he left the bar completely. She couldn’t see anything. Only darkness as she laid face-first on the faded carpet. Her hands were burning from catching her fall, her chest burning from unshed screams that had frozen in her throat—just as her entire body froze the second she felt Quentin’s grip around her.

As a soft moan started to form on her lips, Bucky was suddenly kneeling at her side.

“Oh my god, sweetheart! What happened? You hurt?”

Y/n wanted to tell him, to say it all, but she couldn’t get a word out. Couldn’t get her limbs to move. It was as if her brain was still stuck in fawn mode, terrified of the consequences of one wrong move.

“Y/n, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand,” Bucky pleaded, sliding his palm under hers.

She squeezed.

“That’s so fucking good, doll. ‘K squeeze once for no, two for yes. Can you do that for me?”

Two squeezes.

“You’re doing so good. Are you hurt anywhere?”

One squeeze.

Bucky emitted an audible sigh of relief, followed by an “oh, thank god,” until his stomach sank at realizing what the alternative might be. “D-did someone do this to you?” He asked, his voice becoming hushed.

Two squeezes.

“Was it—”

Two squeezes.

Bucky felt his heart rate skyrocket and the veins in his forehead begin to throb.

“D-don’t leave m-me here,” Y/n croaked out suddenly, breaking Bucky away from the buildup of rage bubbling in his chest.

“Not going anywhere, doll. ‘Gonna stay right here,” he comforted, placing his prosthesis on her back to rub calming circles between her shoulder blades. Leaving the fury to simmer.

Y/n’s ears registered the sound of Bucky’s voice shouting for Nat and Wanda. When they arrived, the worried cries of her friends were also acknowledged by her brain. She heard the quick explanation Bucky gave them, that they needed to get her out of there. But the second Bucky tried to pull his hand away from hers, it was as if Y/n had suddenly been gifted superhuman strength in that one appendage and he couldn’t unlock his fingers.

“You’re going to have to get Steve and Sam for me. She won’t let go.”

They nodded and were back with the two friends in no time. A safe-ride was called. Someone brought water, but Y/n couldn’t drink it. It was like a terrible sequel to that first night, only this time she was sober but still couldn’t move.

Eyes squeezed shut, she held onto Bucky’s hand even as the boys lifted her so that he could carry her bridal style. Even when he held her in the back of the minivan. Even as he transported her into her shared dorm. Even when he sat her down on the couch after he’d given her the option of couch or bed, and she had meekly mumbled the former.

Y/n held onto Bucky’s hand as if letting go would mean drifting off into a certain abyss, never to find her way back to land.

The six of them sat in silence, Bucky’s prosthesis wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders. Holding her close, his flesh hand remained clasped to hers, pressed into where his heart was. He hoped she could feel his heartbeat and find comfort at steady pounding in his chest. Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Wanda shared pained glances, each terrified of being the one to break the quiet.

It took Y/n nearly half an hour, but the words finally tumbled out. Slowly at first, then rapid and ragged as they began getting chopped off by sobs as the shock wore off of what had just happened.

“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart, I should have gone with you. I’m so so sorry,” Bucky repeated, kissing her forehead.

“‘S not your fault,” she sniffed.

Bucky exhaled before responding. “I need to go to the bathroom, doll. Think you can let go for just a minute?”

Y/n chuckled, nodding before finally dropping his hand, stretching her fingers out as she finally registered the ache from holding the grip for so long.

Bucky shot a look at Natasha and Wanda before detaching himself from Y/n. The two friends understood and were by her side the instant he was off the couch.

Silence settled over the common area again, the weight of Y/n’s recount hanging in the air. Eating up the oxygen, taking up too much space. Until it was broken by a muffled scream coming from the bathroom.

***

As soon as Bucky had closed the door, he turned the tap on full and grabbed a towel hanging on the rack. Bundling it into a ball, he eased himself into the bathtub and tugged the shower curtain closed to create a refuge. Knees bent, back against the cold porcelain, he pushed his mouth into the thick terry cloth cotton. Something cracked inside of him. It was slow to start, but an agonizing wail seeped out from the deepest corners of his chest, reaching a deafening pitch as it surfaced. Bucky bawled into the towel until his voice was hoarse, his throat was burning, and his eyes had dried—the only proof of his meltdown was the salt tracks on his cheeks.

A knock on the bathroom door snapped him out of his episode.

“James, can I please come in?” Y/n’s voice barely made it through.

“Y-yeah,” he croaked out, sniffing and wiping his eyes.

Bucky heard her enter, closing the door softly.

“Oh, love,” she sighed as she pulled back the nylon jungle foliage print curtain before kneeling onto the shower mat.

“God, I’m sorry,” he started before she could say anything more. “This shouldn’t be about me. I should be strong for you and I just got so fucking angry and I—”

“Shhhh. Stop, please. I’m ok now. I mean, I’m not, but I realized he can’t actually hurt me. Not when I have you all around me.”

Y/n leaned over the cold white ledge of the bathtub to wrap her arms around Bucky before continuing. “You’re allowed to feel emotions, you know. Plus it makes me feel better knowing I’m not the only one who has meltdowns,” she smiled, breaking her hug to try and meet his gaze.

Bucky’s shoulders shook with laughter as he wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve before looking at her. “God, you’re something else.”

“So you’ve said,” she kept smiling, eyes sparkling.

“And I’ll keep telling you until you believe it.” Bucky took a few, controlled breaths. “I love you, Y/n. Truly. And you don’t need to say it back, I just need you to know that I’d do anything for—”

Bucky was cut off by Y/n’s lips crashing into his, soft and sweet yet full of urgency. Their teeth clashed and tongues twirled around each other as Bucky’s hand cupped the side of Y/n’s face and her hands clasped around his neck. Breathing each other’s air, soft moans elicited from both of their mouths, they finally broke the kiss before the blaze took over entirely.

Hands still wrapped around him, Y/n rested her forehead to Bucky’s as she searched the depths of his indigo eyes, pupils blown wide.

“I love you too,” she whispered softly, slowly, certain.

“That’s… that’s really fucking great,” he chuckled, shoulders dropping in relief.

In that moment, Bucky in the bathtub and Y/n on the bathmat, it didn’t matter what the outcome of the report was. It didn’t matter what happened to Brock Rumlow and Quentin Beck. A calm filled Y/n’s heart and a peace floated into her mind. She was going to be okay.

"Are you okay? Can you hear me?" she calls out, shaking him gently. 

He doesn't say anything so instead, Penny pulls out her phone and calls an ambulance. They tell her they'll be there soon and she hangs up. She tries to wake him up again, but nothing works. She pats his pant pocket gently and finds his wallet. It's full of his cards and even some cash, so maybe not a mugging.

"Kurt?" she says, calling out the name on the wallet and looking up. "Kurt, can you hear me?"

She glances down at the wallet again and turns it. A photo falls out, onto the ground. 

It gets a little wet. Penny picks it up and shakes it. Then she looks down.

In the dim light of the alley she can see it's of this guy - minus the blood - and another guy. He's shorter. Handsome. He's in graduation robes and Kurt is leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Penny glances down. Kurt as a wedding ring. Then she notices that Kurt's hands are bruised and bloody. He fought back. 

"I hope you got a few good punches in," says Penny in a whisper. "If this is what I think it is. Sons of bitches." She carefully tucks the photo back into Kurt's wallet and returns it to his pocket. "Your husband is cute. Like, sort of looks like a young Patrick Dempsey."

Penny reaches out and smooths out Kurt's hair. He's breathing. Penny can see the way his chest rises and falls, so that's good. "I hate this. I hate that this happens. I hate that even if you're not gay, I have to have my pepper spray in my hand because of all the creeps that exist in this city. In the whole world." 

Penny sighs heavy and deflates. She would rant to an unconscious person. 

She only has to wait maybe five more minutes for the ambulance to arrive. Right before it does, she hears Kurt let out a groan.

"It's okay," she says. "I'm here. You're not alone." Penny holds his hand.

They load him on a stretcher and when they leave a police car pulls up. They take her statement and get her information and let her go.

She goes straight home and calls her cousin. He's really confused. He was asleep. She tells him how much she loves him. Then she makes him put his husband on the phone so she can tell him the same.

Two days later she goes to the nearest hospital next to where she found Kurt and takes a shot at asking the nurse if he's there. She can't tell her, but then Young Patrick Dempsey appears. He has two coffees in his hand and looks surprised. 

"Sorry, I know this is weird," says Penny. "I found him, in the alley?"

"Oh god," says the guy. "Thank you I - they told us that if Kurt had stayed out there much longer, things could have been worse. Come on - I'll show you to the room."

She gets properly introduced to Young Patrick Dempsey, who is actually Blaine and not even Kurt's husband just yet, but his fiance, and his dad, Burt. Burt is just as thankful for her finding his son, but Penny insists it's not that big a deal. But that she's sorry it happened. 

Kurt wakes up a few minutes later, out of it from pain meds, but good. He thanks her, too.

"Can I ask you something?" says Kurt, ten minutes after she gets there.

"You just did, but yes."

"I think I'm crazy, or something, but I remember something about a young Patrick Dempsey, and it's really weird," says Kurt. "I think it might be the meds talking."