And here's my advent/A-Z fic for 2nd December. Switched up the pairing for this one as well, since I don't think any of them are going to be linear.
B: Black Coffee – All Saints
Anyway, I own nothing to do with Marvel, and I very much hope you enjoy reading this. And I love Steve/Bucky more than words can say.
Black Coffee
"Bucky…Buck…"
The voice sounded like it came from very far away.
"That's it. Listen to my voice. I'm here, Buck. It's me. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to take care of you."
It was a pleasant voice – low, soothing – and it spoke of comfort, of long nights and warm arms. He wanted to wrap that voice around himself like a blanket and sink into it, but there was something wrong.
Something… He had to remember something, but it was so difficult.
"Buck?"
The voice, that was it. It was so familiar…
"Buck? Are you with me?"
Stevie.
That was it. The voice belonged to Stevie. He was here with him, wherever here was.
"Bucky."
Warmth, against his face, against his wrist.
He blinked and it was like he had just recovered from sensory deprivation. There was noise, so much noise, rushing through his head and roaring in his ears. There were people walking up and down the halls outside the apartment, Barton was lurking two floors up in the air vents, shuffling around one of his 'nests', and on the east side of the tower, Howard's boy had just set fire to something metallic.
…and his left hand was wrapped around Steve's neck.
He flinched, blinking incomprehensibly at his oldest friend. His heart pounded. He wanted to move, but it was like he couldn't, he was frozen in place. It was as if one part of him was completely numb and unable to process what was going on, while the other half was screaming at him to let go.
His metal fingers contracted unwillingly and Steve winced before visibly relaxing.
"It was just a dream, Buck. It's not real."
"It was real," he found himself replying.
Steve nodded as best he could. "It was, but not anymore. You're not there anymore. You're safe."
"Safe?"
Stevie said that he was safe, here in this tower. Safe from what? From Hydra? He knew he was safe from Hydra. The minute the conditioning had broken, he had carved a destructive path through all and any things that reminded him of the Winter Soldier.
It was too bad that he couldn't carve that part of himself out of his own brain as well.
His hand loosened. Steve inhaled quietly and deeply and for a split second, Bucky could appreciate just how much effort his friend must have gone to in order to speak with him and sound relatively normal when his windpipe and voice box were slowly being crushed.
One of Steve's hands was cupping his cheek, while the other was gripping his wrist, not enough to remove his hand, but enough to stop him from killing the man against the wall.
Stevie.
He had said his name, called him Bucky and drew him back from the abyss. This was his friend, his captain, his lover…
Realisation of what must have happened struck him all at once and he immediately dropped his hand and staggered backwards, a frown creasing his face as he struggled to make sense of it all.
"Stevie…I don't… I don't know what…" he trailed off helplessly.
He was lost. Lost in his mind and the horror of what he had done. He barely knew what he was doing now and he certainly didn't know how he had up choking the life out of his best friend at three o'clock in the morning.
Bucky took another step back and the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed, blocking his retreat. Steve didn't let him go far anyway, moving forward the instance he retreated. He avoided eye contact at all costs, which was why he was surprised when Steve's hand came up to clasp around his neck, putting gentle pressure on him to move forward and then gradually reeling him into a tight embrace.
"It's okay, Buck. It's all okay. It was just a dream; nothing else. Just a dream. You're safe here now. I won't leave you again. I'll keep you safe."
He didn't remember the dream, but the lingering unease in the back of his mind remembered the pain in it. He always remembered the pain. His body started shivering in reaction, and Steve's arms clung to him just that little bit tighter.
Steve was still talking to him, low and steady, muttering a combination of platitudes and pet names. Bucky liked the sound of his voice.
It was the one thing that hadn't changed over the years. Steve had grown bigger, the world had become scarier and his body had been twisted and reformed until it was no longer his own, but Steve's voice remained the same.
He relied on it, he realised, to pull him out of his fits and blank rages, to help guide him through this crazy new age they were living in, to remind him that he was still human…that he was still loved.
Steve always reminded him that he was still loved.
He only wished that he could give words back to his friend. He wasn't exactly robbed of speech anymore, as he had been with Hydra, but it had been a very long time since he had spoken for any reason other than a mission report and he tripped over his words more often than not, struggling to get his meaning across adequately.
"You're safe now, Buck," Steve repeated.
The sound of his name spoken by that voice pulled him in and he wrapped his own arms around Stevie's back. He tried to loosen his jaw enough to answer to tell his lover something… anything. The words wouldn't come. He couldn't focus on them enough to make them happen, enough to have them make sense and convey his feelings.
So instead he tightened his grasp around Steve's waist, hugging him as tightly as he could without hurting the taller man.
As he held on to Steve, he felt himself being manoeuvred back over to the bed and he was pressed down, moving reluctantly, so he was sitting on the edge of the mattress.
"Come on, Bucky." Steve pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Let's get back to bed."
He slid in next to Bucky and then dragged him half on top of him so Bucky could hear his heartbeat under the skin beneath his ear.
They lay there for what felt like hours, Bucky fighting with himself for the use of his voice, his mind, while Steve kept up a steady litany of words to help calm him.
"I'm sorry," Bucky finally forced out.
His lover's reply was immediately. "You don't have to be…"
He cut Steve – Stevie – off with his flesh hand over his mouth. "I do. Even if I'm not… I'm sorry."
It didn't say everything – didn't say thank you for everything Steve had done, or let his friend know when it was all too much, or tell Steve that he loved him, had done for years, before the war and all the Captain America crap, and that he had carried on loving him even 'til this moment, even if he couldn't remember everything else right – but hopefully it would say enough.
Just like it was enough when Steve said his name out loud.
He knew what the other man meant, understood the feelings behind it. He could only hope that Stevie understood him too.
A rumble of laughter echoed through Steve's chest underneath Bucky.
"Yeah, I love you too, jerk."