It's the middle of the night and Bucky suddenly awakes, startled from his dream - or was it a nightmare - by the sound of the storm raging outside the windows. He shivers from an imaginary draft, a reminiscence of his dream, or maybe his mind is playing tricks on him, making him think he can actually feel the air from the storm. His hair, the very same hair he refuses to cut as a way of reminding himself that he is still every bit the Winter Soldier, sticks to his forehead and neck with sweat, and his back feels clammy as if from a fever. But there is no fever, only the ghosts of a past he still cannot make peace with.
The wind is howling just as his mind is, screaming with thousands of voices, all of them telling him the same thing, over and over again. He doesn't want to hear those voices. He doesn't want to hear those words. Sometimes it feels as if there is some monster in his head, desperate to be set free from the leash, from the corner of his mind where it is confined.
Bucky knows there is only one place where he can be safe from his demons, from the memories clawing at his brain, begging him to let them drown his soul and go back to what he was before, the Winter Soldier, the asset, whatever Hydra used to call him. So, he gets up, not even bothering to get some clothes on, and makes his way in the dark to Steve's bedroom.
The door is half open, as usual, but Bucky stops in his tracks at the sight of Steve fast asleep, clutching the spare pillow he keeps just in case. His face is so peaceful, so quiet even, that for a moment Bucky is tempted to turn back, lest he disturbs the beauty of the scene. It's funny how fierce he has become, how unforgiving - dark, even - but the simple view of Steve sleeping peacefully can bring him to tears and move him like nothing else.
The wind howls again on the window panes, rain lashing mercilessly with a sputtering sound. The vibrations send tiny impulses to his brain. Mission. Target. Eliminate. He winces in pain and grabs his head, trying to make the thoughts, the conditioning, go away. He shakes his head as if to erase those memories forever. As if it could help.
Bucky knows there is one thing that always helps, so he slips under Steve's sheets as quietly as he can. He doesn't want to wake him up but he needs to touch him, to feel him, to feel safe. He is only safe when Steve holds him. Which is pretty ironic, considering he was the one who used to protect Steve. But that was back then, and this is now, and the need is too strong to be ignored. He puts his arm around Steve's waist, searching for the comforting warmth of his skin.
Steve moans in his sleep and turns.
"Bucky" he groans sleepily.
His hands leave the pillow and clutch at Bucky, sending shivers all over his spine. But those are nice shivers and Bucky lets them ripple on his skin and soothe him. Steve's legs entwine with his and their chests smoothly find each other. Every part of their bodies fit right where they should be, like the parts of a Lego game, so different but yet unbalanced if the other one is not there.
Steve heaves a sigh of contentment, his forehead touching Bucky's before opening his eyes slightly, maybe to ascertain that the presence of his lover is real. He smiles as his hands reach Bucky's back, holding him tight.
Bucky eases into Steve's arms and the voices in his head start to dissolve like clouds when the sun suddenly shines after a storm. Steve's lips find his and the last remnants of his past die with the kiss. There only remains Steve's warmth and gentle touch. Free from his wandering mind, Bucky closes his eyes with the feeling of having finally come home.