Who Are You? – Bucky Barnes
For The Silver Iris
You sat beside Bucky on the couch, paying little mind to the show playing on TV. Your head was one the soldier's shoulder and his arm was secured around you, his hand playing with loose strands of your hair. You had seen enough of the show to know what it was and what the episode was about, but you weren't enthralled by it, instead much more interested in Bucky's metal fingers massaging your scalp. Your eyes fluttered closed and you exhaled a contented sigh as you rested against him.
On TV was a show about a girl who could see and talk to ghosts, and this episode's ghost was German. She didn't understand much English, so whenever she tried to communicate with the girl, all she managed was a bunch of words in German that the girl had to translate on her own. You didn't think anything of it, completely forgetting that the commands Bucky had been programmed to obey were often in German.
You didn't recall that fact until the hand in your hair stopped moving and he stilled beside you. You lifted your head and opened your eyes, looking at him in concern.
"Buck?" you asked gently.
His brows were furrowed, his eyes were dark, and his mouth was set in a firm frown. He stared at the TV, but he seemed to be looking through it with a glare that could melt ice. You scooted away from him, knowing that any kind of contact would be enough to set him back. You reached for the remote and turned off the TV, not wanting any more German phrases to trigger him.
After what felt like an eternity of watching him stare at nothing, you tried to help. "Bucky? Baby, what is it?"
He turned his glare on you and a shiver ran up your spine. You'd never been afraid of the soldier. You knew he would never hurt you. He loved you, and you loved him, no matter how much the team distrusted him.
"Who are you?" he asked monotone.
You let out a sigh. He was relapsing. At least he was calm. The last time he'd relapsed, he'd reverted back to his angry soldier state and nearly sent Tony through a wall. The billionaire had mostly deserved it, but that didn't make Bucky any less dangerous.
You knew times like this were the reason people feared and distrusted him. You knew Tony didn't want him in the Tower in case this happened again. But you and Steve couldn't turn your backs on him, especially when he suffered trauma like this.
"Who are you?" he asked again when you didn't answer, this time more forcefully. You knew if you didn't play along, he would get angry, and those metal fingers that had once been pleasant would wrap around your throat with no mercy.
"My name is (y/n)," you replied calmly, looking up at him. You met his eyes, your heart breaking at the lack of recognition in them. It wasn't his fault. Hydra had done this to him. You knew your Bucky was still in there. He just needed to be reminded.
Your willingness to look him in the eye surprised him, and he quirked a brow. His hands rested in his lap, clenching and unclenching his fists as though deciding if he needed to protect himself.
"Why are you here?" he asked, taking a moment to look around. "Where am I?"
"You're in my apartment," you replied. "I'm a friend of Steve's."
His eyes widened and something snapped. He didn't always remember you, but he always remembered Steve. You had learned that after the first couple of times he relapsed. You came after Hydra's brainwashing, so you weren't yet enough to reverse the trigger. But Steve was a soft spot that had broken through Hydra's hold many a time, so it nearly always worked to click Bucky back into place.
"Steve…" he murmured, looking down at his lap. He shook his head and blinked as though clearing his vision. When he looked back up at you, his eyes were softer. "(y/n)?"
You smiled gently. "I'm here, Buck. It's me. It's (y/n)."
He blew out a breath and his expression softened completely. He lunged forward and wrapped his arms around you, his head on your chest. You cuddled him like the giant teddy bear he was and carded your fingers through his hair, knowing it soothed him.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked worriedly, looking up at you.
You kissed his forehead. "You didn't even try."
"I don't remember my relapses," he murmured, burying his face in your neck.
"I know, love," you replied. "Maybe it's better that way. Then, on the occasion that you get angry, you're not constantly thinking about it."
He nodded softly. "What happened this time?"
"You were cautious," you explained. "You kept asking me who I was and where you were. I told you I was a friend of Steve's and that overpowered the relapse."
He nodded again. He knew that Steve was his safe guard.
"Do you know what triggered it?" you asked gently.
"German," he mumbled. You understood. The words on TV. Foreign phrases had triggered him before, be it German or Russian. You cuddled him closer and rested your head on his. From now on, you had to be extra careful what played on TV when he was around.
"I love you," you murmured gently, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over the both of you.
"I love you too," he replied before letting out a yawn. You settled against the arm of the couch, holding Bucky in your arms. His arms were secured at your sides and his head rested on your chest. Your legs tangled with his, keeping him in place. Your heartbeat combined with your fingers in his hair soothed him, and he fell asleep in your arms. You followed soon after.
