Bucky woke up with a start. Drenched in sweat, heart racing. His hair was a tangled mess with strands stuck to his sweaty forehead, and he struggled to remember where he was. In his mind, he was being put back under – into cryo. He could feel the mind-numbing cold creeping into his bones and he knew that he would probably be a monster when he woke up.
Breathe in, breathe out.
James Buchanan Barnes. New York City. Steve Rogers is my friend.
James Buchanan Barnes.
Bucky Barnes.
Lying there in silence, his heart rate began to slow and he felt his mind knitting itself back together. He was in Steve's spare room he reminded himself. Avengers Tower. New York City. Breathe in, breathe out.
He didn't know if it was hours or only minutes later, but suddenly Bucky's bedroom door crept open, and very Natasha-shaped shadow appeared, leaning on the door frame. Arms crossed in front of her, dim light poured in around her silhouette, and the soldier fought the urge to assume a defensive stance. Fists clenched, he lowered himself back onto the mattress.
"Hey. I heard shouting, James."
Bucky usually looked forward to talking with Nat, but at the moment it took everything in him to simply grunt in response. Without intending to, most of the tower's residents occasionally let pity color their tone when addressing the soldier, and he appreciated Natasha's gentle but firm approach. Only Sam came close to her in this respect, and Steve, as much as he loved him, could be the worst of them all.
"Can I sit?" she asked, slowly entering his room.
"Just give me a minute. Please." Bucky pressed the heel of his flesh hand into his temple, fighting down nausea.
Breathe in, breathe out. Natasha is not a threat.
James Buchanan Barnes. New York City.
You are in a safe place.
"Okay," he said tightly.
She understood the need to keep her movements slow perhaps better than most and edged forward. Favoring dark colors on or off a mission, her black clothing melted into the darkness and he forced himself to slowly open his fists.
He felt her weight on the bed without looking up and slid over to make more room. Continuing to move with caution, she slid her back up against the wall and stretched her legs out in front of her. Feeling something unusual, she slid a knife out from under the pillow and slowly placed it on the bedside table. Old habits and all that she supposed, shaking her head as Bucky remained silent at her side.
Had it not already been beating unusually fast, he was sure his heart would be racing now - but then again, he was almost positive Natasha had that affect on everyone. With less than a foot between them, she was close enough to touch had he been in the state to do so.
After what seemed like an eternity, her calm breathing helped slow his own, and his heart entered what could almost be considered a normal range of beats per minute. In and out, her breath was a steady rhythm helping his focus on who and where he was.
"Hey, you in control?" Natasha finally whispered.
"I'm fine. That took longer than normal though. Oh God, I really don't want to go back into cryo, Nat."
"We're not going to let that happen. None of us are going to let that happen."
They sat in silence for a stretch of time, her words and the conviction with which she said them sinking in.
"James, can I try something?" she continued.
"Okay," he whisper, barely audibly. He lay on his right side, with his back to Natasha and was keenly aware of his half exposed metal prosthesis.
"Don't pull a knife on me," she said only halfway joking as she slowly placed a hand on his back.
She felt him tense at the contact, but kept her hand in place.
"Breathe, Barnes." She waited until he did so, and began to rub small circles on his spine.
Through his thin shirt, she could feel the line where flesh morphed into metal, and her heart ached at the thought of it. She very rarely let her emotions get the best of her – but this was almost too much. The Red Room had been its own special form of hell, but she was grateful that each of her limbs were at least accounted for. Pausing, she ran a hand a long the arm itself, wondering at the mechanics behind it. If his shiver was any indication, it had some measure of sensory receptors and was very capable of feeling much like a normal arm.
Her hand continued to move along his back in long, repetitive motions, and she could feel his body relaxing more and more with each movement. Moving up to the place where his neck met his shoulders, she watched more tension drain away and smiled to herself.
Through it all, Bucky remained as still as possible; focusing only on the feeling of Nat's hand on his back. Sure, he hugged Steve or even Sam from time to time and occasionally shook someone's hand – but lack of physical contact can do weird things to a person, and whatever cryo did to his body and mind, this was the opposite. Not heat exactly, but a slow, comforting kind of warmth. He wanted to thank Natasha, or at least acknowledge the fact that it felt nice, but it was too easy to get lost in the sensation and lose track of time passing entirely.
Slowly, but without hesitation, Natasha leaned down and kissed the place where metal met skin.
Bucky froze before settling back a bit against her leg and hip.
"Natalia," he sighed, as if in warning.
She leaned down again, kissing his shoulder before moving her hand to his hair. It looked nice, really, when it wasn't hanging down in front of his face, and she took her time running her fingers through it. Gathering it together at the nape of his neck, she slid down onto her back.
They both lay in silence for a moment before she wrapped one arm around his chest and pressed her cheek to the place between his shoulder blades. Their feet met in a tangle, and she enjoyed the feeling of his breath as he relaxed into her. Not one for sentimental words, she tried to put as much as she could into the semi-hug hoping he would understand everything she was feeling. Somehow, she wanted to communicate the emotions whirling in her brain. The pain it caused her to think of him being used as a weapon. The sorrow as she watched him face this new reality around him. The pride she experienced when she looked at how far he had already come. And the gratitude she felt at having someone like herself around; someone without a spotless past.
It must have worked, because within minutes he fell into the deepest sleep he'd had in months. Not cryo deep, but beautiful, peaceful, nightmare-free deep.
Natasha stayed curled around him, dozing on and off, but mostly just listening to his steady breathing until the sun began to rise.
Shifting her arm and slowly sitting up, she kissed his forehead before leaving the room. Something had changed between them in the night, and she was nervous the see what this might mean.