Hello!
So here is the first chapter of what will be a series of short stories completely focusing on SHAMELESS CUDDLING. I am not embarrassed to say that plot will be thin here. If you are not interested in shameless cuddling, and are annoyed by stories that have no zero to no plot, you might want to skip this. I am writing it solely because I want to make Bucky and Steve hug and cry and be cute.
As usual there is ******NO SLASH******* and there never will be. This is just a super bromance. That's all.
There's no set number of chapters so I'm not sure how long it will go on. As of right now, I have an idea for a second chapter, and nothing beyond that. But I'm 99% sure it will keep going after that, because I always have new ideas for being mean to these boys. Hahaha! :)
The time frame is any time after Bucky comes back to Steve. I might reference things from my other story "First Hint of Spring" but you will not need to read that one for this one to make sense.
WARNINGS: Language, and complete and total fluffy shameless cuddling, crying, the works.
I hope it's enjoyable.
x
Bucky always has nightmares. He has them almost every single night without fail. There are exceptions every now and then, if he's especially tired or if he's especially relaxed, or if he and Steve stay up super late talking. But most of the time, a nightmare – at least one - can be guaranteed every night.
Steve knows they might not ever stop, and he's prepared to get up every single night and comfort Bucky until the end of his days if he has to.
He has his fair share of bruises to show for the times he startles Bucky, the times Bucky wakes up terrified and lashes out, and of course the times Bucky wakes up angry instead of scared. But they're getting a lot less frequent - the times that he startles Bucky, not the nightmares.
Bucky looks for him now when he wakes up, if Steve isn't already there. Sometimes Steve will wake up abruptly, sensing that someone is near, and Bucky will be on his bed - usually sitting with his knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them, eyes glinting in the darkness.
He never tries to wake Steve up, he just sits there and waits for Steve to notice him. He's usually shaking, sometimes crying, and almost always freezing when Steve finally gets up and wraps him in a hug or coaxes him to lay down close by so Steve can rub his back and talk him back into sleep. It's kind of a routine, and they've fallen into it completely.
Steve has nightmares too though. He hasn't told Bucky about them, he's not sure why. Maybe it's because Bucky's are clearly so much worse and Steve can usually deal with his own just fine. Usually.
Sometimes he dreams about Peggy, the way she was when she was young. The curve of her lips, the sparkle of her dark eyes. Those ones aren't really nightmares. They make him sad when he wakes up, but they're not nightmares.
No, the really bad nightmares come in two different forms. One he thinks of as his "plane crash" dream, and it comes in various different incarnations involving Schmidt and not being able to stop him, and the plane dropping the bombs on New York City and knowing without a doubt that he has failed and that everyone is dead.
But the worst part of that one is when he dreams – well, it's more of a memory – of the plane crashing into the ice. He sees the ice rushing up at him, he hears the sound of the metal crunching and bending and he remembers the impact. He always wakes up icy cold, shaking, staring into the dark for a long time before he can convince himself that he is not in the plane any longer, he is in his room in Stark Tower.
But even that is not the worst dream. The worst nights are when he dreams about Bucky.
Sometimes there's the predictable one – the one that he's been having ever since it happened in 1944 - Bucky falling off the train, watching his friend fall away from him a hundred times over, unable to save him every single time.
But now it is different. Now it doesn't stop with Bucky falling. Now he sees Bucky laying in the snow, all alone, and it is so quiet and there is snow slowly falling around him, landing softly on his blue jacket and not melting and he's crying and there is blood and Steve can't do anything but watch.
Sometimes he wakes up crying after that dream. It's not like when Bucky wakes up crying – those are terrified, panicked tears – no, these are just quiet tears, streaking down Steve's face while his eyes were still closed, and he wakes up and his face is wet. He always has to check on Bucky to make sure he's okay after that.
Other times he dreams of Bucky being tortured. He dreams of Bucky being frozen, being beaten, crying and cowering and alone. He has never seen this with his own eyes, but he has seen the pictures in the file, and he has heard Bucky talking in his sleep enough times to have a pretty good idea and obviously it's enough for his unconscious mind to come up with images he really would rather not see.
Those are the worst nightmares, and he usually wakes up violently, sitting bolt upright in bed, sweating and trembling with rage, but there is never anyone there to take out his fury on. He goes over to Bucky's bed sometimes and just sits on it, watches his best friend sleeping, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched and thanks God that Bucky is safe with him now.
As far as he knows, Bucky is unaware of these nightmares, and he intends to keep it that way.
On this particular night, Steve's head is pounding. It's been a fairly lazy day, but this also means that they sat around in the sun for way too long on the roof of Stark Tower.
Before the serum Steve could never take too much sun, and it seems that this is one of the few things that did not change post-serum. He can take it a bit more now, but he still burns quite easily and too much sun ends up making him feel kind of sick. So that's where he's at now.
He lays on his back and stares up at the ceiling, listening to Bucky brush his teeth in the bathroom, making just a bit more noise than necessary as he closes cupboards.
Nothing's changed there, Steve thinks, amused. Bucky wasn't ever quiet getting ready for bed. Steve sighs and runs a hand through his sun-bleached hair. Super soldier, sure. But the sun still beats me down eventually.
Bucky emerges from the bathroom, rubbing his eyes, and heads right for his bed. "'Night, Steve."
"Good night, Buck."
Steve watches him flop down onto his bed, curl up on his side, and pull the sheet up to his chin even though it's definitely too warm in the room for that.
It's not that air conditioning isn't an option, but honestly neither Steve or Bucky are fond of air conditioning and so their room remains sticky and hot while the rest of Stark Tower is like a damn freezer.
He looks at Bucky one more time, and his dark head is burrowed almost underneath his pillow. The curled up shape of him under the blankets looks far too small to be a grown man.
Steve smiles to himself and closes his eyes. He's staying on top of his own blankets, and he drifts off quickly, glad for the dark of the room finally.
He can't move, but when he looks down at himself there is nothing visible holding him back. He knows without having to try that he will not be able to break the invisible bonds.
Bucky is across the room from him, shirtless, sitting against the wall. He's shaking uncontrollably, eyes dark and wild with fear, and he's staring at the door to Steve's right.
Steve tries to speak, but no sound comes out.
"Steve..." Bucky's voice is low and sounds more like a whimper than anything else. "Steve... don't..."
There is the sound of footsteps outside the door and Bucky starts to shiver harder, backing into the corner and pulling his knees up. "Steve...!"
Steve struggles, he struggles so hard, but looking down at his body he can see his arms and legs are not moving one inch.
The door swings open and Rumlow walks in. It does not look like Rumlow, his head is Johann Schmidt's Red Skull head, but Steve knows that it is Rumlow, and he speaks with Rumlow's voice as he looks past Steve at Bucky. "It's time, kid."
"No..." Bucky whimpers. "I don't – I don't want – Steve –"
Don't touch him! Steve yells, but no sound comes out, and Rumlow starts to move towards Bucky and Bucky cowers away, and his eyes, desperate and dark, lock onto Steve's face. "Please, please, Steve, please..."
Rumlow looks back at Steve as he walks, and he's smiling. "What're you gonna do, Rogers? You can't save him." He's got one of those rods in his hand, the ones he'd used to shock him in the elevator, and he starts to reach towards Bucky, and Bucky says "Steve" again but it's quieter this time, still pleading but more like a whisper, and -
Steve jerks awake with a shout that turns into more of a roar, and there is someone touching his arm, just the dark shape of a man right next to him and he moves automatically, fueled by rage, launching himself forward and knocking the man off the bed and onto the floor. His hand is clenched around the man's throat and he squeezes, panting, his blood boiling.
I will kill you, I will kill you if you touch him.
The man's arms are pushing at him weakly, not really fighting back at all, just trying to push him away, and it's only when the moonlight suddenly glints off something and he turns his head to look that he notices.
Silver.
Metal.
A metal arm.
Bucky. I'm hurting Bucky.
Everything suddenly comes into sharp focus, and Steve jerks back and away, horrified.
As soon as he lets go, Bucky scrambles away from him faster than Steve's seen him move in ages. He moves like a ghost, almost too fast for his eyes to follow.
"Bucky –" Steve's in shock. Bucky's in the corner of the room beside his bed, pressed back as far as he can go, and in the moonlight his eyes are huge and terrified, his flesh hand at his own throat. His breathing sounds raw even from here, but Steve is more worried about the expression on his best friend's face.
"Bucky. Buck. Oh God, I'm so sorry!" Steve starts to move toward him and Bucky's chin goes up, his head jerking back as if he's afraid of being struck.
"No..." he whispers, and he's holding out his metal hand, not for Steve to take it, but to warn him away.
"Okay, okay." Steve holds up his hands, stays put. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. This is not good at all.
"Sorry, sorry Steve. Sorry..." It's barely a whimper, low and shivery, Bucky's eyes on the floor, hair hanging around his face, and Steve has to listen to it for a few moments before actually taking in what he's saying.
"Why are you apologizing?" He crouches there on all fours on the floor, trying to assess the situation properly before doing anything else.
"I – I didn't mean –" Bucky's voice trails off, he pushes himself further back against the wall, Steve sees him start to tremble – it starts in his hands and rapidly moves up his arms to the rest of the body. "Sorry. Sorry. Please -" His eyes are getting too shiny and he rubs at them abruptly with his right hand, avoiding Steve's eyes.
Steve's chest aches. I attacked him and he's the one apologizing to me. How does that make any sense?
"Bucky. Bucky. Stop. It's all right. Can I –" Steve pauses, swallows. He dreads asking the next question. "Can I come over to you?"
Bucky's gaze flicks back to him, and his eyes are so big and dark and sad and shiny Steve swears he looks exactly like a kicked puppy. He bites his lip, looking down and away, and shivers suddenly, hard, a full-body shudder, and finally nods at the floor.
Steve doesn't even want to guess how hard that must have been for him to do. After I just tried to strangle him, Jesus. And he's still letting me come over.
Steve moves up slowly, as though approaching a cornered animal, and when he gets close enough he puts his hand on Bucky's shoulder.
Bucky flinches hard, and Steve's heart sinks a bit. Good job, Rogers. Good job. After all the hard work...
Bucky lets him move up right in front of him, but he won't look at him, he's looking everywhere but at Steve. If his expression is anything to go by, it's taking everything in his power to not move away. Steve can almost smell the fear coming off his friend. He's so close to him now but Bucky is all curled up, knees up, arms against his ribs, head turned away. His body language says clearly Don't touch me, I'm afraid of you. But he isn't saying it.
Steve sits back on his heels, sighs softly. Think, Rogers, think. He feels as if he can just get Bucky to look at him he might have a chance. "Bucky. Hey. Can you look at me for a second? Please?"
Bucky clenches his jaw and closes his eyes, but when he opens them again he's looking right at Steve. There is fear in his gaze, and it breaks Steve's heart. He puts a hand on Bucky's knee, ignoring his flinch, and holds his gaze firmly.
"I am so, so sorry, Buck. I – I had a nightmare. And you surprised me. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
Bucky's eyes immediately fill up with tears, and he twists his head away, tucks his face against his own shoulder.
"I - I surprised you. I d-d-didn't mean to. I j-just heard you... dreaming. You sounded upset. It was my fault. I'm s-" He sounds shockingly young.
"Don't apologize. It was not your fault. Hey." He pats Bucky's knee, and when Bucky doesn't look at him, he very carefully reaches out and takes Bucky's chin, turns his head toward him, then smiles. "You were just trying to help me. How many times is it the opposite way around? Huh? And I don't apologize. You're always apologizing to me."
"B-but you always tell me not to," Bucky's voice is still wobbling, and Steve can feel every single tremor running through his body.
"Yeah I do." Steve laughs softly. "So maybe we should both stop apologizing. But, Bucky. Listen, okay? I really am sorry." He sits back on his heels again, his heart is still pounding like a drum. "I just had a really bad nightmare."
He can still see that room, still see Bucky cowering against the wall. Not unlike he is right now. It's Steve's turn to shiver, and he rubs his arms, goosebumps breaking out despite the heat.
Bucky tilts his head, looks at Steve through long eyelashes. "I know what that's like."
"I know you do." Steve moves up next to him, sits down with a sigh. Their shoulders are touching, and Bucky doesn't move away.
"Steve - does – do you have nightmares often?" Bucky still looks rather like a kicked puppy, and he's looking at Steve as though he sort of expects Steve to hit him but he wants Steve's attention at the same time. Steve loops an arm around his shoulders and gives him a squeeze.
"Not often. But often enough." He shakes his head, pushing away the last remnants of the dream, and instead turns to Bucky, who is still tense against his side.
"Let me see your neck."
"It's fine." Bucky immediately starts to move away, and Steve catches his arm.
"Let me take a look, okay? Just sit."
He reaches up and turns on the light, and they both squint in the sudden brightness as Steve turns back. He's struck for a second by how small Bucky looks in the lightened room, curled up against the wall.
He can make himself really small when he wants to. He doesn't want to think about how often Bucky has probably done that in the past.
He tilts up Bucky's chin and looks at the growing redness on his friend's throat, the shape of his hands clear on Bucky's pale skin, and guilt burns the back of his eyes. He touches the marks with slightly unsteady fingers, and Bucky doesn't move.
"It's okay, Steve," he says quietly. "You didn't mean to."
"Yeah, but..." Steve sighs heavily, pulling his hands back. "God. I could've hurt you really bad."
Bucky's face crumples a little, his eyes flooding again, and Steve suddenly realizes just how terrifying it must have been for Bucky to be attacked by the one person in the world who he trusts to protect him. And he didn't even try and fight back.
He could've hurt me too, if he wanted to. He could have thrown me off... I mean, one punch from that metal arm and I'd be off of him. But he didn't.
Steve turns away, lets go of Bucky's chin, shame washing over him like a flood. Oh God. Oh God. What did I do? He drops his head, rubs his forehead, squeezes his eyes shut. What might I have done if I didn't see his arm in time?
Something cool and heavy settles over his shoulders only a moment later, and he jerks his head up, surprised. Bucky is very close to him, his metal arm laying over Steve's shoulders, and he leans his forehead against Steve's shoulder and sighs shakily.
"I'm fine," he says. "Don't worry." And even though his voice is still wobbling, Steve believes him. Mostly.
He's so impressed with Bucky's courage to be this close to him, initiating comfort when he was the one who was just attacked, that his eyes burn again. "Come here." He gently shifts Bucky's arm off his shoulders and pulls him into a hug instead, unable to stop himself from glancing at the red marks on Bucky's neck again as he does.
They'll be bruises tomorrow.
Bucky is trembling in his arms and feels slightly tense, but he doesn't pull away, and seems to want to be there.
"Are you okay?" Bucky's voice is muffled slightly in his shoulder, and Steve smiles. "I'm fine."
Bucky pulls away from him, slowly and carefully. His chin is down a little, he's looking at Steve out of the tops of his eyes. "Do you..." he hesitates, eyes flicking to the floor. Steve watches his metal hand on the carpet, the way his fingers curl into a fist and then relax. "Do you want to tell me your dream? I'll listen. I – I like listening."
Steve frowns, sighs, puts his back against the side of the bed. I don't want you to hear about it, Buck. "I appreciate the offer, Buck, but... not tonight. Maybe tomorrow..." He trails off vaguely.
Bucky nods, his dark eyes sad, and Steve has a feeling that Bucky already knows exactly what he was dreaming about. "I j-just heard you... dreaming..."
"Come on." He stands up quickly, climbs back onto his bed. "Let's get some sleep." He slides over so that Bucky can join him if he wants, the way they almost always do if the nightmares get that bad, but Bucky hesitates at the side of the bed, his eyebrows furrowed, glancing towards his own bed. Steve's chest hurts. Is he afraid of me now? Did we take a step back here?
Bucky heads over to his own bed, and Steve's heart sinks. Okay, alright Rogers, you can't expect that you can almost strangle him and everything's just going to be A-okay. You'll fix this like everything else, maybe –
Bucky's pillow lands on the bed next to him, making him jump, and Bucky follows it, curling up closer to the edge of the bed than usual but he's still facing Steve and he's still here.
"My pillow's better than the ones you have," Bucky mumbles, pulling the sheets right up to his chin, and Steve huffs out a laugh, reaching over to rub his arm and then retreating to his own side.
We're okay. Breathe, Rogers. It's okay.
He stays awake for the rest of the night, because he's just too scared that the dream will come back and he'll hurt Bucky. Every time he looks over at his friend – who is trusting him enough to sleep beside him - long hair sweeping in a dark fan across his cheek, he senses Bucky's fragility, reminds himself just how easily this all might be destroyed.
But not as easily as I think, maybe, he reminds himself. He's here, isn't he?
The next morning there are definite bruises around Bucky's throat, but they are not as bad as Steve imagined they would be – whether that has to do with his fast healing or if he didn't hurt him as much as he thought, he's not sure. But Bucky stays unusually close to him all day, as though reassuring him that it's okay and he's okay, and Steve is proud and grateful.
I'll tell him one day. We're both in the same boat, kind of. But for now, I just need to focus on getting him better, and if he's better, I'll be better. That's the way it's always been and it's no different now.
x
Thoughts? Shall I continue?
Am I excessively mean for coming up with this chapter one night right before bed and grinning horribly because I knew I was going to make Steve hurt Bucky and I was excited to write it? *evil laughter*
Please please leave me a review and let me know what you thought! :)