I really need a life

A deafening ringing took up residence in your ears at the sight. Seeing him bloodied and unmoving twisted your stomach into a knot as the cold claws of grief ripped your heart to shreds. Without thinking, you sprinted toward Bucky, the pain from your stab wound completely forgotten. Steve watched the blood spilling from your leg as you ran and threw you a nod, assuring you that Bucky was still alive. You strained your eyes to see the rising and falling of Bucky's chest before slowing from a sprint to a jog.

"He's fine- he'll be fine", Steve muttered as he continued to drag his best friend's body toward the jet. Maria pulled you up the stairs and assessed your wound as she chastised you for turning back. Steve laid Bucky down across a few seats and made sure he was stable before making his way toward the cockpit.

"No. Sit", Steve commanded. He could sense your plan to rush to Bucky's side first chance you got and shut it down with force. "You're bleeding- a lot. He's okay, just take a rest", he said firmly. Maria gave you a "he's right" look and put more pressure on your wound, drawing a hiss from your lips. Without breaking Steve's rule, you reached your hand as far as it would go in Bucky's direction. It wasn't much, but you were able to get your fingertips to rest against his-and it made you feel just slightly better.

The adrenaline from the mission subsided and left you with debilitating pain throughout your body. The coppery taste of blood filled your mouth and your head pounded like a drum. You could feel exhaustion digging its hooks into you, but didn't have the strength to fight against it. With one last glance toward Bucky, you let your head fall back against the wall of the quinjet, the whirring of the engine sending you to sleep.

Steve's voice woke you suddenly. Immediately upon waking, your head snapped in Bucky's direction- but he was nowhere to be found. "He's inside", Steve told you, "He's fine. Just getting treated. Come on, you need to get looked at, too". He helped you up and slung one arm around your waist, steadying you on the walk to the medbay.

Getting stitches in your thigh wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't the worst part of your day- Bucky getting hurt took the number one spot. The second your last stitch was administered, you were up and ready to find him. Steve blocked your way, however, standing in front of the door with his arms crossed over his broad chest. "You need to lie down for a while, the pain meds are going to kick in soon. Just rest," Dr. Cho told you. Steve was unmoving. There was no way he was letting you out of your room any time soon, no matter how badly you wanted to see Bucky.

Steve knew how you felt about his best friend and how Bucky, in turn, felt about you. He secretly called the two of you ‘idiots in love’, seeing as neither of you knew that the other loved you back. Everyone else had clocked it immediately, but the two of you remained secretly pining for the other under the guise of being “best friends”.

With a huff, you limped back to the bed and laid down, eyeing Steve the whole time. "He'll be alright, I promise," Steve murmured, "just try to relax for a while". You fought and fought against the warm, fuzzy embrace of the pain medication, but lost the battle. Steve chuckled to himself as you passed out completely and called for Maria to come take his place before speeding from your room to check on Bucky.

The world around you was blurry when you woke, making you rub your eyes to find clarity. "She lives," Maria joked, "how you feeling?" Once again, the only thing on your mind was Bucky. Clumsily, you pushed the sheets from your body and attempted to stand up. The floor rocked back and forth beneath your feet, throwing off your balance. "I'm fine, I'm- I'm good," you lied, "just gonna go find Barnes". Maria was on her feet in seconds, standing in front of you and gripping your shoulders.

"Woah, easy. Just take a second-" she ordered, "you're standing like a baby deer". Her joke wasn't that funny, but the pain meds made you cackle. She got you to sit down and handed you a water to get you reoriented. After a few minutes, she helped you stand and appraised your gait. It wasn't great, but it was better than Bambi, so she let you go. "He's in room 727," she called after you as you stumbled out of the room.

Your unsure steps had you crashing into Steve just outside Bucky's room. "Hey- what are you doing here?" he grumbled, "Hill was supposed to-" He grabbed at your arm just as you began to teeter backwards and saved you from busting your ass. The words slurred from your lips just a little, "Hill said I could leave, so I did". Steve let out an exasperated sigh. He knew just how much Bucky meant to you, but he'd hoped that you'd be out of it a little while longer, giving Bucky more time to heal before you saw him.

His hand caught yours as you tried to open Bucky's door, and you huffed in protest. "You can see him, just-" he fell quiet and searched for the words. Seeing Steve so uncertain sent a chill down your spine- he always knew what to say. Anxiety took root in your chest as you waited for Steve to continue speaking, and you could've sworn that time stopped. "He's really banged up. He'll heal fast like he always does, but..." he paused again, "I wasn't so sure this time".

The second Steve's hand left yours, you forced the door open. Bucky's blood soaked shirt sat in a pile on the floor, staining the pristine tile red. White gauze encircled almost his entire abdomen and most of his right forearm. Red splatters decorated his vibranium shoulder and a long row of stitches closed a deep gash near his clavicle. Deep indigo bruises bloomed under skin of his sharp jaw and one of his eyes, darkening by the hour. A smattering of smaller abrasions and bruises littered his body like confetti. Dried blood sat near his hair line, and you tried to wipe it from his skin with no luck. It was then you discovered the thick layer of congealed crimson that coated his hair.

Steve was right- Bucky was in rough shape. But his chest continued to rise and fall, and his fingers twitched like they always did when he slept. Over the next hour, you occupied the chair next to Bucky's bed with your hand in his. Dried blood outlined each of his nails and stained his cuticles a nauseating shade of red. He stirred a bit as you wiped his fingers clean, and finally woke as you were finishing up.

A soft "Hey, Buck..." fell from your lips as his blue eyes met yours. His busted lip stung as he smiled, but he couldn't stop himself. A smile always splashed across his face at the sound of your voice, and no amount of pain could stop that. "Hey, doll. You okay?" he murmured. Of course his first thought was about your well-being, even when he was the one laid up. His eyes begin to flutter a bit as he fought off the urge to pass out; his body begged him to rest but all he wanted was to talk to his best girl.

"I'm fine, Buck...Steve, um, Steve said you're lucky to be alive".

As Bucky surrendered to his exhaustion, two words fell from his lips: "Am I?"

Bucky always made dark jokes as an understandable side effect of his trauma, but this felt different. You sat frozen as you mulled over his words, not even noticing when Steve entered. He waved a hand in front of your face to snap you out of your trance, and repeated what he'd asked of you. "Can you go rest, please? Go shower- you're still covered in blood- and go get in bed. Please". His voice was tired and desperate and you wanted to appease him, but you couldn't leave Bucky. Your protest died on your tongue as Steve cut you off.

"He's okay. A few doctors are actually about to head in here- they have to take out his stitches or his accelerated healing will grow his skin around them. And it's...uncomfortable," he shuddered at the thought. No part of you wanted to step away from Bucky, but Steve needed you to listen for once. With one last look at Bucky, you dragged yourself from his side.

Once upstairs, you peeled your blood soaked clothes from your skin and took the longest, hottest shower in human history. A fresh pair of sweat pants and an oversized Brooklyn t-shirt helped you get cozy, but you still felt the pins and needles of anxiety. Steve's phone buzzed every five minutes with texts from you asking for updates on Bucky. When he finally answered, he told you that Bucky had headed upstairs for a shower and some rest.

As quickly as your injured leg could carry you, you made your way to Bucky's bedroom. You knocked incessantly until he opened the door, and a deep sigh of relief left your lips when you finally saw him. The color had returned to his cheeks and his eyes lit up when he saw you.

Seeing him upright and walking around felt like a blessing, and it took everything in you not to launch yourself into his arms. He must've read your mind, because he pulled you in for the tightest hug he could manage without making himself bleed. He held you for a long moment, stroking up at down the length of your spine. The sensation of your body against his always helped him relax, and knowing you'd made it out of the mission in one piece finally eased his anxiety. “So glad you’re okay…” he murmured against your hair with a deep sigh.

"I was gonna take a quick shower- but you can hang out, just give me a few minutes," he told you before heading into the bathroom. You knew the massive amount of congealed blood would make his shower a little longer, but at least it gave you some time you think. Worry had your heart in an unrelenting stranglehold, but you didn't know how to broach the subject with him.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom in gray sweats and a red Henley, you realized that you still had no idea what to say. He climbed into his bed and collapsed next to you, staring at you all the while. "What's wrong, sweets?" His question caught you off guard, and you tried to play it off.

"Oh, come on, you're doing that thing you always do," he teased.

"What thing?"

"That thing with your mouth-"

"Buck, I don't do-"

"When you're stressed out, you chew on the inside of your cheek. And you're doing it right now. So, spill your guts."

The words tumbled from your lips suddenly and clumsily, taking Bucky by surprise. "I’m worried about you, okay? I just- When you woke up, I told you what Steve said, that he said you were lucky to be alive…all you said back was 'am I?'"

Bucky stifled a laugh-something you hadn’t expected. You’d been stewing over his words for hours now, worrying relentlessly about him-and he was laughing? A small flicker of rage burned behind your eyes, making him quickly apologize.

"I'm- I'm sorry. I don't mean to laugh, But I- I honestly thought that was a dream, doll," he said with an apologetic smile. The smile slowly faded, however, leaving him with a vacant look in his eyes. He fell quiet as he thought about what he’d said back in the medbay. His filter has been completely shut off by exhaustion and pain, and he’d let his honest feelings slip. With a sigh, he sat up and took one of your hands in his. “I’m sure I scared you, I'm sorry about that. But…can you blame me? For thinking that way, I mean."

His question was a dagger to the chest, and hurt more than the 15 stitches running down your leg. "I'm just…tired. I'm so tired,” he continued, “I've been around for a long time- I've been through a lot. Sometimes, it's too much.” His eyes darkened a bit as he contemplated his next words. It was too late, however, and they fell from his lips without warning, “Sometimes, I go into a mission hoping that I won't come out".

His eyes snapped in your direction at the sound of a sniffle, and he immediately tried to apologize as he watched tears roll down your cheeks. "Shit, doll. I don’t-that was fucking dark. I'm sorry. I shouldn’t- I shouldn't have said it. I didn’t mean to upset you. It just slipped out."

You shook your head and wiped your eyes, taking a few deep breaths before your voice was steady enough to let you speak. "Buck, you don't- please don't apologize. I'll never know how you feel...I'll never understand what it's like for you. I just-I wish you didn't feel that way. That's all.” The heartbreak was evident in your voice no matter how hard you tried to hide it.

With a pained groan, Bucky swept you into his arms and pulled you into his lap. “Wait- Buck, no. You’re hurt,” you protested, but he didn’t listen. He felt instantly better with your body resting against his, regardless of the gunshot wounds and lacerations.

“Can I be honest with you about something?”, he asked after a long, quiet moment. You weren’t sure that you could handle more of his heartbreaking honesty, but you nodded anyway. If Bucky needed to get something off your chest, you’d let him, no matter how much it upset you. He cleared his throat, clearly searching for his words, until he whispered the truth against your hair.

“You keep me going, sweets. The knowledge that I get to come back here- to you- that’s what gets me home safe every time.” He brought a hand to your hair and tucked a stray curl behind your ear before continuing, “I’m desperately in love with you, doll. You’re what keeps me coming back”.

The words hit you like a truck. No part of you had been prepared for a confession of love, and you sat dumbfounded on his lap in silence. His piercing blue eyes raked over you, taking inventory of your sharp breathing and wide eyes. He tried to speak again, to quell some of the perceived awkwardness that swirled around him, but you cut him off.

“Is that-are you serious?”

He nodded, “you feel like home to me, sweetheart. When I’m at my lowest, you get me back in one piece”.

Your cheeks burned and your heart hammered against your ribs as tears blurred your vision. Clumsily, you maneuvered your body until you were facing Bucky and pressed a long overdue kiss to his lips. He hissed as your mouth added pressure to his split lip, but he didn’t let you stop. He eagerly pulled you closer, deepening the kiss he’d been hungry for for so long.

“I’m like, stupid in love with you…” you finally whispered against his lips. He pressed his forehead against yours and let his hands stroke your spine, letting out a contented sigh as he did so.