Cursed Son (Snippet)

A Captain America Civil War AU

Note: Steve, Natasha & Sam battle with Hydra and the Winter Soldier and capture the Winter Soldier, who is blind, and who starts remembering he's Bucky.

"You and I share," Steve said. "Toilet and sink at two and five, shower at ten, counter at eight. Let me get some waterproof bandages on you, so you can shower."

In reply, Bucky made his way into the bathroom, found the tiny counter, and turned to face him.

"Hold on, I'm going to grab the bandages." He went to the kitchen, and pulled a tackle box-turned-first-aid-kit from the upper shelves.

He returned to the bathroom to find Bucky stark naked and taking a piss. "Uh…" he stopped in the doorway. "…door was open."

Bucky cocked an ear his way; finished. "Huh. I— Yeah. I'll… shut it next time." he said. "I was going to leave the shorts on, but—"

"You weren't wearing any."

"I wasn't wearing any," Bucky echoed, found the sink and washed his hands.

"We figured the sweats were enough. For the night." He stepped back, to give Bucky space in the small room.

Noncommittal, Bucky returned to the counter. The metal of his arm also covered his shoulder, and was edged in ragged scar tissue where it was grafted to his skin. Not counting the metal, the only things Bucky wore were the bright white gauze bandages.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Everyone can ask anything." Bucky's discarded clothes were bunched in a pile on the counter behind him. He propped his naked butt on the counter, crossed his arms, and shifted his feet, got weight off his injured leg. He seemed to seriously consider the question. "But I'll answer you." He eased wet hair from the burn on his face. "If I can."

"Yesterday, when I first touched your hand to look at your wound… are you usually that… jumpy?"

"Huh?" Bucky looked like he was biting the inside of his mouth as he thought about it. "Oh. That." He gave it more consideration once he tracked what Steve referenced. "Yeah, I guess I get kind of jumpy. I don't see it coming. Warn me."

"Good to know." He set the first aid kit on the counter near Bucky, clicked the latch, and swung the lid open. "Because I'm going to have to tou—"

Bucky chuckled. A sound that startled him into silence mid-word. He looked up. Bucky grinned. "Bandages. Got it. I'm not standing here naked for my enjoyment. You gonna fix the one on my thigh?"

"Uh…" he looked at Bucky, who tilted his head to the side, waiting. His gaze slid down to Bucky's bandaged thigh, and to see again that Bucky was just so… naked. He could feel the heat flowing into his face.

If Bucky hadn't said anything, he'd have got through this without blushing. He'd managed as much when missions went sideways and everyone scrambled to do whatever was needed; sometimes that included an extreme lack of privacy. All he could say was, "Yeah."

Bucky grinned. "This should help." He reached behind him, winced and twisted more gingerly, grabbed something from the discarded pile of clothes and held it over his junk. "I'm not usually modest—"

"You never were."

"But I think I remember that you—."

"Are," he stereo'd the last word with Bucky. "Guilty," he added, and "Thanks. I shouldn't be. Most guys got the shy knocked out of them in the Army. Guess I'm—"

"Bullheaded."

He grinned. "So you've said." Things felt right, in that moment. Comfortable familiarity. Naked Bucky notwithstanding.