Your friendship with Bucky was not automatic by any means. He is the way he is, so of course he was guarded, closed off, constant grump face. Slowly, you chipped away at his walls. You were yourself to a fault, and Bucky couldn’t help being sucked into your orbit.

He became looser around you—he’d crack a dry joke instead of just grunting in response, he let himself smile instead of pretending your jokes annoyed him.

Your bond grew over time—small jokes became easy banter, smiles became full laughs. You got to see his charming goofy side, and he got to see your quiet soft side. Late night talks on the balcony overlooking the lake—learning about each other’s deepest struggles, happiest memories, biggest fears.

You two became very close. Always looking out for one another, knowing when the other is feeling off. You were never bored when together, even if you’re just in the same room doing separate tasks. Sure you could annoy the crap out of each other, but you’d also be protective and caring for each other at the same moment.

On bad nights, you two would find solace in each other’s rooms. Bucky had more of those night than you. Tonight wasn’t even that bad—you just didn’t want to be alone.

You wrap your favorite blanket around your shoulders, and quietly shuffle down the hallway to his room. It’s not late, but you still knock softly just in case he could actually sleep tonight.

Bucky is propped up against his headboard reading ‘The Great Gatsby’, he’s been trying to read the modern classics he’s missed out on. His gaze lifts to the door, immediately he knew it was your knock.

“Come in,” he calls out, lowering the book with a thumb holding his place. He can tell when you open the door you aren’t feeling quite yourself.

“Can I just lay in here? I don’t need to talk, just don’t feel like being alone,” you ask. Holding your blanket securely around you.

“Come here,” his voice already becoming the gentle version, for when you’re like this. He sets his book on the nightstand, then lifts the covers for you to climb in.

“Thank you,” you say, gently nudging the door shut, then crossing the room to your designated side of his bed. You slide under the covers—nestling your head into the pillow.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, while he drapes your blanket on top of you.

“I just feel… off.” While you speak, he shifts to lie down on his side. His gaze is devoted to yours—trying to be see whatever you feel. “My period is in a couple of days. You know how I can get.” You shrug.

Bucky does know how hard it can be on you sometimes. It breaks his heart seeing you like this. He tried his best to learn what helps you during this monthly depressive episode. Usually it’s just support to get through it.

“I’m sorry, doll,” he says softly. He tugs the covers further up on you, before resting his hand on your shoulder.

“I’m okay. I just wanted to be with you,” you give him a soft smile. His eyes soften even more, and his thumb begins rubbing circles over the fabric of your shirt.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, no pressure in his tone, just care.

“Not really. You keep reading. I’m just gonna sleep, if that’s okay?”

“Whatever you need, sweetheart,” his hand gently squeezes your shoulder.

“Thank you, Buck.” You already feel relief from the dark cloud that settled over you. Bucky leans over to place a kiss on your head. You huff air from your nose, and a small teasing smile pulls your lips. “Dork,” you murmur as a term of endearment.

“Weirdo,” he replies as usual. Smiling softly, feeling a little better that you still have some teasing in you.

Bucky adjusts back to his sitting position, and resumes his book. He looks over at you snuggling deeper into the bed.

“The light not gonna bother you?” He asks, voice a juxtaposition of rough and soft.

“Doesn’t bother me at all. Plus, your big head is blocking it pretty well,” you tease softly, a small lazy smile pulls my mouth.

“You’re a punk,” he huffs in amusement, shaking his head. You chuckle softly.

Every couple of minutes Bucky notices you move just a hair closer to him—a shift of your leg or subtle move of your hand. Whether you’re conscious of it or not, he doesn’t know.

Bucky looks over—you’re curled up facing him, forehead only a few inches from his elbow. He smiles softly to himself. He scoots further down the pillows—so he’s mostly lying now. He reaches his human arm, the one closest to you, over to pull you into his side.

You crack your eyes open, when you feel his hand pressed against your back. He gives you a soft knowing smile. A sleepy smile grows on your face, then you scoot completely into his side—head on his shoulder, right arm draping over his torso.

He hears the content exhale as your body relaxes. He cranes his neck to see your eyes are already closed again, hints of your sleepy smile still remain. He feels his chest tighten with affection for you. He wants to wrap you up in a cocoon of blankets, hold you tight in the safety of his arms, and plant kisses all over your cute sleepy face.

Instead he just savors what he has been given. Relishes in the love he feels he doesn’t deserve. He lets himself love you like this, even though he knows he could love you more. He’ll just never let himself.

His fingers tickle your back lightly, while his metal hand holds his book. Finagling with the book to turn each page without having to take his hand off of you.

After a while, he feels his eyes are getting heavier, and hears your quiet snores start against his shirt. He carefully sets his book on the nightstand, and stretches to turn off his lamp but keeps his arm around you. The movement pulls you from your slumber— making you mumble sleepily.

“Bucky?” You rasp, eyes barely cracking open. As soon as he hears your voice he goes to soothe you.

“Just turning off the light, doll.” He says softly, making you mumble incoherently. After the darkness takes over the room, he turns his body to yours, pulling you into his chest.

“Go back to sleep,” Bucky whispers, as his arms settle around you. Metal arm careful but firm over your waist, hand splayed against your back. His flesh arm is under your neck, hand cradling your head that is tucked into his chest.

“You okay?” You mumble, voice showing you aren’t really awake. The care in your voice despite being asleep makes the loving ache in his chest grow.

“Always okay with you.” He whispers, fingers card through your hair soothingly. You hum something incoherent, and Bucky knows you’re not conscious.

As he falls asleep, he lets himself pretend he’s not afraid of loving you. He lets himself feel not like a monster, but a man who loves a woman.

—————————

In the very early morning, you are awoken to the feeling of a baby alien trying to rip through your uterus, aka period cramps. You lift your head off of the pillow, which you come to realize is Bucky’s bicep.

Bucky is sound asleep—he always sleeps better when he’s with you. That doesn’t change the fact he’s been trained to be a light sleeper. Your quiet whimper pulls him right awake.

His eyes fly open to see you hunched over, eyes closed like you’re still trying to milk the last ounces of sleep in you. He sits up, placing his warm hand on your back.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Bucky’s voice rough with sleep. You open your eyes, face turning to his.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” You rasp, discomfort evident in your voice.

“What’s wrong?” He asks again, ignoring your concern for waking him.

“I’m cramping,” you make a small noise of pain. “My period must be starting.”

“Stay right here. I’m going to get you something for the pain.” Bucky is on his feet, and walking out the door.

You don’t want to move, but you know you need to go to the bathroom to put something on before the blood starts. With a weak groan you slide out of Bucky’s bed.

You switch on the lamp to check the sheets, just in case, even though you can’t imagine anything has actually started yet—you freeze when you see the fresh blood on his gray sheets.

“No. No, no, no, no, no.” Tears automatically come to your eyes, panicking over what to do. You immediately start stripping the bed. Your mind is a cloudy mixture of pain, embarrassment, and sleep disrupted weepiness.

You’ve barely moved the pillows out of the way, when Bucky returns with a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. You whip your head to him, putting your hands out as if that would stop him from coming closer.

“Wait, stop!” You try to tell him, but he’s already making his way to you.

“Hey, what are you doing?” He asks in confused worry. Setting down the glass and pills on the nightstand, so he can move grab onto you. His eyes almost frantically taking in your expression, then he looks past you to the bed. It clicks in his brain when he sees the blood on the sheets.

“Oh, doll,” his voice painfully tender. You step back trying to block the bed.

“I’m so sorry. Give me a second and i’ll fix it,” your voice a sad plead. His heart breaking over the look on your face.

“What? No. Come here,” he shushes you. He steps forward, closing the distance, and pulling you into his chest.

Your mind is too cloudy with embarrassment to stop. You try to push off of him, but he holds you tighter—not in a painful way, but in a reassuring way.

“Bucky,” you cry weakly into his shirt. He shushes you, one hand stroking the back of your head.

“It’s alright, doll,” he coos. He understands why you’re upset, but this is nothing to be embarrassed over. Especially not with him.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know I was gonna start tonight,” you sob into his chest. He feels the dampness of your tears through the fabric.

“Stop it. It’s okay,” his voice is so tender it makes you cry more. He says your name like a gentle plea.

“You can go lay in my bed and i’ll change your sheets, okay?” You hiccup, lifting your head off of him. Immediately, Bucky is shaking his head.

“Absolutely not,” both of his hands come up to cradle your face, and make sure you listen. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna take care of this while you go sit in a warm bath.” Your brow furrows in disagreement. He can’t help but find it adorable. You shake your head, but before you can speak, Bucky says your name with such sure care.

“I can’t let you deal with this. It’s gross,” you try, but he just scoffs in reply.

“Nothing about this is gross, you got me?” He lowers himself so he’s eye level with you. “You’re hurting. Let me take care of you.” The sincerity in his eyes, and the stabbing pain in your uterus, makes you lose your ability to protest anymore.

“Are you sure?” You cry pitifully.

“Sweetheart,” he pulls you back into his chest, “please stop crying. I’ve got you.” He kisses your head, then rests his cheek against your hair.

You let yourself melt against him, arm finally coming up around him. Once your crying becomes a soft sniffle, he pulls back just enough to look at you. The tears made your face puffy and splotchy—it breaks his heart.

“Here,” he reaches for the glass, handing it to you. He grabs the ibuprofen, shaking some into his hand. “That enough?”

You nod, reaching out to take the pills. Rasping a quiet, “Thank you,” after swallowing them.

“Attagirl,” he praises, while taking the glass from your hands to set it down. His hands come to rest on both of your biceps. “Now, hows a bath sound?”

“Yeah…” you nod, “that sounds good.” Bucky feels a sense of relief you aren’t fighting him on this anymore.

“Yeah?” He gives you a gentle encouraging smile. “Let’s go get you a bath then.”

Bucky guides you, carefully, down the hall to your room. You turned down his offer to carry you, cause you were worried about blood somehow getting on him.

“Why don’t you grab you some fresh clothes, while I run the bath?” He suggests. You give him a small ‘okay’. You shuffle to your dresser to grab some designated period underwear, a big oversized shirt, and some gray sweatpants.

When you walk into your bathroom, you notice only some of the lights are on—casting the room in a dim warm light. Bucky is sitting on the edge of the tub ensuring the water is not too hot. He notices you when you set your clothes on the counter. He stands up moving over to you.

“There’s my girl,” he gives a supportive smile. If your stomach wasn’t in so much pain, you would’ve felt butterflies when he said that. “I’m gonna go change the sheets, then i’ll be back to check on you.”

Your eyes tear up at the embarrassing thought of him having to change his sheets. He quickly notices and goes to shut it down.

“Hey, hey, hey. None of that.” His rough yet oddly soft hand brushes away a tear from your cheek. “I just want you to feel better.”

You wrap your arms tightly around his torso. He’s taken aback at first, then tightly hugs you back. “I’m really sorry,” you apologize again.

“Stop that,” he gives you a squeeze before pulling back. “Just try to relax. I’ll be back soon,” he kisses your forehead, then leaves the bathroom.

————————

The heat of the water soothes your discomfort. Dulling the pain of your cramps. Relaxing your muscles from the tension they’ve been holding. You sink deeper into the water—your hair tied dryly atop your head. Probably not safe, but you almost fell asleep. A soft knock on the door made you come to.

“Doll, I’m back. You doing okay?” Bucky’s voice comes through the door. Hearing his voice reminds you of the embarrassment—bleeding on his bed, sobbing in his arms.

“I’m good,” you call back, cringing at yourself for simply existing.

“The pain any better?” He asks.

“Yeah, some,” you reply. You feel awkward talking through the door when you’re currently in the tub.

“Good, hopefully the meds are kicking in,” his tone indicates he’s not feeling awkward at all, he just wants to help you. “Do you need anything else?”

“I’m okay, thank you. You don’t have to worry about me. You should go back to bed,” your voice sweet in way that makes Bucky frown.

“Doll, stop that,” he sighs through the door. He knows you are embarrassed, and you don’t need to be alone stewing on it.

“What?” You say, acting like you don’t know what he’s talking about.

“You take your time, and i’ll be out here when you’re done,” he says, giving you no room to argue.

—————————

When you finally climb out of the tub, the pain is a dull whisper. Your muscles warm and relaxed, making your movements slow. You dry off, make sure whatever period product you use is secure, and get dressed in the fresh pajamas you set out.

Bucky stands from your bed when you exit the bathroom. His heart skips at your appearance—shoulders hunched, baggy clothes, hair a half fallen mess tied up on your head. To him you’re so beautiful.

“Buck, you shouldn’t have waited for me,” you say softly, wrapping your arms around yourself to shield your warm skin from the cool air.

“How many times do I have to tell you I want to be here, before it gets through that hard head of yours?” He closes the distance between you, and pulls you into his arms. You let your tired self melt into his hold.

“I feel bad,” you murmur against his chest.

“Enough of that,” his flesh hand comes up to angle your face up at his. He feels unworthy to be able to touch something so soft.

“But Buc-“ you start but he shakes his head.

“Now do you want to lay in your bed or mine?” Bucky asks simply. “Either one you pick i’ll be there,” he adds. Making you huff softly. That feels like a win to him.

“My bed,” you say quietly. He smiles softly, thumb stroking your cheek once more.

“Your bed it is,” he nods. He gently guides you to lay down. He climbs in beside you, and automatically you find yourself in his arms. You’re curl into him, hands tucking against his chest.

“I’m really sorry about everything,” you mumble quietly against him, you still feel embarrassed despite how tired you are.

“Please stop apologizing,” Bucky’s voice just above a whisper. His metal hand cradling the back of your head, while his warm flesh hand rubs up and down your back.

“It’s so embarrassing,” you mumble sadly.

“Hey, look at me,” he pulls back enough to angle your head upwards. His eyes lock onto yours, trying to get the point across. “It’s not embarrassing, especially not with me.”

“How are you not upset?” You asks, tired lip pouting.

“How could I be upset?,” he exhales, shaking his head in disbelief that you could even think he was upset. “I just hated it for you, so stop apologizing. Okay?”

“…Okay,” you exhale softly. Your eyes have a shine of love as you look up at him. “I hope you know how grateful I am for you.”

Bucky presses a soft kiss to your forehead, your eyes flutter closed. He reaches up to gently brush a stray strand from your head. He notices the slight furrow in your brow. “Headache?” He whispers.

“Not too bad,” you open your eyes.

“Let’s get your hair down,” he hums softly. You rest your forehead against his chest, while his hands carefully unwind your hairtie. His hands so large and rough, yet so delicate with you.

Once your hair is free, Bucky slides the hairtie onto his wrist, then runs his fingers over your scalp. You felt like you could’ve purred from the touch. It released any left of tension in your body.

“That better?” He whispers. Your hum is all the response he needed to hear. It makes a small smile grow on his lips.

He rolls onto his back, pulling you with him. You settle on top of him, as he pulls the covers higher over you.

“You okay?” He hums.

“Mhmm,” you nod against him.

Bucky keeps his flesh hand on your back and the metal one gently rubs your scalp. He knows the coolness helps with your headaches. It’s very obvious by the way you go limp against him and start drooling on his shirt. He smiles to himself, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Sleep good, pretty girl.”

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i hope you guys enjoyed my first fic ! let me know what you think !