7

Steve didn't change out of his pajamas, and the clothes he had offered Bucky still sat, folded nicely on the table in the bedroom, untouched. Bucky looked so exhausted, and when he spoke, he slurred, so Steve left him alone again in the bedroom and shut off the lights and said he was going to pull something together for dinner, to wait and rest and get ready to go to bed early tonight.

Steve made soup and when he came back, the clothes were gone off the table and Bucky was under the covers, completely still. Steve could see his chest rise and fall a little, slowly, and he battled with himself about whether it'd be better that he wake up for a few more minutes to eat something, especially since he'd been taking pain pills for headaches all day and eating little, or if it would be better that he take this opportunity to sleep.

Steve sat down gingerly on his side of the bed and placed the soups on the table. Instead of folding up his clothes and putting them there, like Steve had done, Bucky had tossed his crumpled black clothes on the floor in the corner messily. At least some things were still the same, Steve thought.

Steve decided that he'd try gently to see if Bucky would wake up, but if he kept sleeping, he wouldn't bother him. Most of him wanted Bucky to keep sleeping.

He considered grabbing Bucky's shoulder, but he was worried that if he did, the chance would be too great that he would wake up, so instead, he found Bucky's hand just under the sheets and-oh! Steve was surprised to find his fingers decidedly not flesh, and cold. Steve felt shocked for a second and his first instinct was to throw off the blanket, but he realized he was scared to. He didn't know if he wanted to see what was going on. He felt a chill go down his spine. He felt up Bucky's wrist and found the same cold, metal under his fingers, and what felt like a thick collection of plastic wires under a metal plate on top of his wrist. Moved up his forearm, up his elbow, to his shoulder, and then horrified, Steve finally threw the covers off of Bucky's body. He found an entire left arm made out of dark silver, with metal plates partially veiling thick wires and gears and metal parts. He couldn't tell where it started or stopped because Bucky had put on the shirt he'd given him and it hid the rest of his chest. Steve didn't know what to think.

Disturbed by the blankets, Bucky stirred a little. Steve watched his eyelids flutter open tiredly.

"What happened to your arm?" Steve said. Bucky looked at him for a second, confused, and Steve watched as the now all-too-familiar fear seized him and Steve grabbed up both his wrists, metal and flesh, to stop him from moving away. He didn't want to go through the whole "deer in the headlights scrambling" thing anymore. When Bucky twisted, he could feel wires move and that chill gave him goosebumps again. "Hey, calm down, you're here, I'm Steve, you're Bucky, remember that?"

"I remember that," Bucky mumbled, his eyes wide.

"Then calm down for five seconds, okay? Nothing's happening, you're fine," Steve said and Bucky swallowed audibly.

"Okay," he stammered.

"Now what happened to your arm?" Steve asked again and Bucky's eyes travelled down from Steve's face to the left wrist he was holding and back up again.

"You mean the left one?" He said.

"No, the right one," Steve said sarcastically. "Of course the left one!"

"I don't know," Bucky said nonchalantly. "It's always been like that."

"It has not either always been like that," Steve said. Bucky shrugged weakly and Steve slowly put his wrists down. He sighed.

"Well, either way, it doesn't matter," he said, although it did matter. He was so confused and this was like nothing he'd ever seen before. His stomach twisted.

He sometimes felt like he was dreaming. Now was not one of those times.

"I made soup for dinner. And then you have to go right back to sleep," Steve finished.

Bucky sat up and accepted a bowl of soup and Steve sat cross-legged on the bed across from him, watching how his arm moved. They ate for a few minutes in silence and Steve finally spoke up again.

"I can't believe you're really here," he said. Bucky glanced up at him and then back down at his soup. He seemed to have gained his appetite back. Steve wondered if he'd stop inhaling noodles to respond. He didn't.

"Am I dreaming?" Steve said again. Bucky hesitated, his spoon halfway to his mouth, but he didn't seem to know what to say. "You don't have to answer," Steve said and Bucky finished putting the spoon to his mouth. "I know you're just as confused as I am, if not more." Bucky finished his soup and Steve traded him bowls and let him finish his as well. He watched his left arm move. Red and blue and black wires.

Steve set his bowl on the table and scooted around to Bucky's side and for once, Bucky let him without flinching away or appearing extremely uncomfortable.

"I'm going to hug you again," Steve said and Bucky finished the second bowl of soup and set it down on the bed. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky's shoulders and squeezed him and after a moment, Bucky brought up his arms and squeezed him gently back.