Hey guys it's me, with another fanfic (two in the same day wow) except this time I am trying to make it longer than usual (yeah good luck me). As this is my first time writing these characters so their personalities might be a bit wonky. Make sure to comment, as it really does help my writing. Anyway, on with the show.
...
Steve PoV
...
The cold shocked the air out of my lungs after the force of an impact that should have killed me.
Water filled my lungs faster than I could think about it and the last thing I felt was cold.
Numbing, freezing cold.
I woke with a start trembling and gasping inside a tangled sweaty mess of sheets and blankets. I tried to calm myself down, but it felt like someone had injected my bones with ice.
I rubbed my arms desperately trying to bring feeling back to them, trying to ward off the nonexistent goosebumps. When that did nothing, I stumbled out of bed, my knees nearly giving out from under me, as I reached for my dresser, and started piling on layers of clothes, anything that was in my dresser. Layers upon layers until there was no physical way I could put on more but it didn't work because the cold was still there and it wouldn't go away.
I let out a dry sob, letting my hysteria get the best of me. I turned and blindly made my way to the living room, tripping over everything on the floor, not even bothering to turn on the light, and felt the wall until I eventually found and turned up the thermostat but I was still goddamn cold. Silent tears ran down my face and I turned and fell in front of the fireplace.
The rational side of me was shouting that this was a bad idea, but that was drowned out by the rest of me, begging, pleading to make the cold, the numbness stop.
I didn't hesitate as I stuck my hands into the flames.
My nose was assaulted immediately with the smell of burning flesh. My flesh.
My nerves were screaming but I couldn't pull away because I could finally feel something, and even pain was better than numbness.
...
Bucky PoV
...
I stepped inside the lobby of our apartment building and tiredly stomped the snow off of my boots. It had been another late night taking out the scattered remaining hydra agents. Normally I would have stayed out longer to help clean up the scene, but by this point I had been awake for more than three days, which was a lot even for me.
I could here the crying before I even entered the apartment.
My senses were immediately on high alert, as I slowly opened the door and quietly stepped into the apartment.
"Steve?" I called out tentatively. No response.
I quickly made my way toward the source of the sound, which seemed to be the living room.
"Steve are you- STEVE WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" I shouted.
His hands were in the fire as the smell of burnt flesh filled the room. I flew to his side and yanked him out of the flames before he could hurt himself more.
"Steve what the heck were you thinking," I said, holding him an arms length away from me, still kneeling on the ground.
He started sobbing, harder than I had ever seen him cry before.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm just cold, I'm so cold and oh god Bucky make it stop," He muttered, over and over again. The firelight reflected off of the tears racing racing down his cheeks, as he held his charred hands against his chest.
I pulled him close to me and started running my hand through his hair.
"Hey it's alright baby it's okay I'm here."
"You're safe."
...
Steve's sobs eventually turned to silence, and I reluctantly made him stand up so I could clean his hands. We walked to the bathroom, and upon closer inspection under the harsh white light, I found that the burns were not as bad as I had thought. His hands could only have been in the flames for a few seconds. The serum probably had something to do with the lack of damage too.
I quickly cleaned and wrapped his hands before leading Steve back to the living room.
Now that the shock had worn of exhaustion had set in and I was able to realize some things that I hadn't notice before, like the stifling heat in the living room, and the fact that Steve was wearing about eight layers of clothing. I turned down the thermostat until it was comfortable and sat down on the opposite end of the couch from Steve. He sat looking vacantly into the fire, the light reflecting off of his eyes.
I sat there in silence as I removed all but two of his layers of clothing, the rest making a pile on the floor.
"Hey, Stevie." No answer. I sighed and leaned in closer.
"Hey baby, you gotta look at me." Steve reluctantly turned his head towards me and looked up with watery eyes, piercing blue which usually shone with life, now broken and hurting. I reached up and traced my right thumb over his cheek, and he leaned into the touch.
"Stevie, what's wrong?" He was silent.
So we sat there. For what felt like hours. Just being. I wrapped my arms around him and it was a while later when Steve finally spoke.
"I'm sorry." he mumbled into my shirt.
"Steve you have nothing to be sorry for." I whispered into his hair.
He pulled away and looked at me.
"Like hell I have nothing to be sorry for. I'm a mess, just look at me," he was trembling, "I thought I died-I thought I would get to see you again, and then I wake up years later and all I do is think about m-myself, and I let you fall off of that train, I'm the reason they got you, an-and even now a-all I do is just," he started gasping, "all I do is f-focus on my-my own nightmares and damn self pity, and God Bucky how, how can I expect to-to help save other people if I can't save myself. I-I don't even feel like myself and I'm weak and selfish and-" He broke into a fresh round of hysteria, gasping and sobbing.
"Shh, hey Stevie breathe. You gotta calm down, okay? Hey shh it's going to be ok." I held him against my chest and rubbed circles on his back, like when he had to coax Steve through asthma attacks, back when everything was simpler.
"I can't." He gasped into my shirt, tears wetting the fabric, "Make it stop please."
"C'mon just breathe baby," I pulled him close and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
"Don't leave me."
"I won't, I promise," I smiled sadly into his hair, "Never again."
...
Steve PoV
...
When I woke up the couch that morning, with a draft coming in from under the door, and Bucky's cool metal arm pressed against my chest
I was warm.
...
Well would you look at that a solid 1:38 am. I hope you appreciate what I do for you guys. Anyway I am about to pass out so make sure to leave a comment and come back soon for more quality material and make sure to check out my tumblr Raspberry-jazz and my Deviantart Jalovim5. Human trashcan signing off for now.