I know I promised that the next one would be the bit where Bucky finds out he's Steve's hero. But this little idea started niggling in my mind [already had a bit ago, actually] and I had to roll with it. Not entirely sure where it's going. It might contain explicit content, fair warning, but I do believe that's it could all be canon. If the comics felt like dipping that far into things. But yes. So. This is a darker one-shot. Potentially explicit. You have been warned. And it's not going to be what you think it is at first. Probably. Give it a chance. [If the warning didn't scare you off already]. XD
Summary: Steve stumbles onto a nightmare. Or the one where Bucky picked up some bad coping mechanisms. Because nothing goes hand-in-hand quite like pain and pleasure.
Warning: Reader discretion advised. This is not fluff. And potentially explicit.
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The Howling Commandos, in between a pair of close-knit missions, found themselves 'camping' out slash 'taking a break' in a small town near the outskirts of France. Captain America would arrive a day after the rest of his men, as he had matters to conclude in regards to their previous mission. They weren't exactly on leave, and they hadn't exactly been given permission, but the implication that they could enjoy themselves in the brief interim was there. The men had taken it well, and set out for a night on the town. They were together at the start, a bawdy, loud mass of stir-crazy soldiers let loose. Then Morita and Gabe went their separate ways and shortly thereafter Bucky headed off on his own as well.
Dugan was in the middle of a rather bawdy story when a clapped on his back, and he, Farnsworth, and Dernier looked up at Captain America. Or rather, Steve Rogers as he was dressed in crisp, civilian clothing. "It figures I'd find you guys in the only bar in town." he said, in a way that was stern and a little exasperated, and belied by the smile on his lips.
"Captain! They let ya back early!" Dugan cheered, and he waved a waitress over. "Something special for our Captain!"
Steve waved a dismissive hand. "Don't waste good alcohol on me."
"Spoken like someone who doesn't appreciate the taste of a good vintage." Montgomery 'Monty' Farnsworth drawled.
Steve shrugged. "Guess I'm just not that classy." he glanced around as he took a seat. "Where're the other guys?"
Dernier smirked a little, and Dugan replied. "Well, Gabe and Morita are...doing whatever the Hell they do. Somethin' about 'pruning the roses'...anyway, I expect you mean 'where's Bucky'...he's off, uh, sowing the wild oats, I believe." And then he shot a smirk at Farnsworth. "Oh, sorry, was that a little much for your virginal ears, buddy?" They'd never let Farnsworth live down his confession during truth or dare.
Farnsworth rolled his eyes with a faint scowl. He'd gotten passed being embarassed about his fate by now. "I know where you sleep, Dum Dum."
"Keep it to yourself, Monty." Dugan drawled as though offended and scandalized, and Farnsworth just huffed and took another drink.
Nearly a year had passed since the rescue of the 107th. Bucky still had nightmares sometimes, and there were moments where Steve would catch him and his eyes just...looked distant...haunted...but otherwise, he seemed like the same old Buck and he and Steve had found a familiar rhythm with each other in their new roles. Not much had changed, really, except that Steve was usually the one pinning Bucky in a fight and he could pull Captain's rank when he had to. Much to Bucky's chagrin. [Although, truth be told, he still found it a little thrilling that he could look down at Bucky and fit Bucky at his side for a change].
The waitress had returned then, and she'd caught the bit of their conversation. "If Bucky was the fellow with the dark-hair, I don't think he's, um..." she flushed a bit. "It seemed like he was about to get in a fight. Ah, but sorry, that's not my business." she started to leave.
Dugan lifted a brow, and Steve was all ears at once. "Wait! A fight? What do you mean?"
The waitress hesitated, but the expectant looks of the men around the table stirred her. "Well...I saw him leaving with Luc, and...they didn't look too happy."
"Luc?" Farnsworth queried.
"Ah, sorry," she apologized again, "Jean-Luc, he's a native here but he tends to come and go a lot, and he's a bit of troublemaker...it just...it seemed a little strange...I didn't think I should bring it up, but...you didn't seem to know so..."
Steve was on his feet then, and Dugan held out a hand. "You that worried about someone picking a fight with Barnes? We all like a good tussle every now and again."
"It's not really Bucky I'm worried about, it's the guy that was stupid enough to pick a fight with him." Steve corrected. They couldn't afford Bucky making a scene when they were technically supposed to be incognito, and he was a little worried, truth be told. He knew Bucky could take care of himself and he still worried, which went a long way towards empathizing with Bucky's over protectiveness back when he'd been the 'little guy'. Steve addressed the waitress. Still though, if Bucky and Jean-Luc had had a fight outside of the bar, it didn't explain why no one was around when Steve arrived. Not them, or a crowd of onlookers. "Do you know where they went?"
"Well...I didn't see, but...Jean-Luc's staying at Em's-that is-Emma's Lane Inn-just about a mile down. Not sure if they would have had a reason to go there, but.."
"Thank you." he addressed his men then. "I'll go have a look. Just in case."
Dernier muttered something in French that he didn't catch, Farnsworth didn't seem to either but Dugan shot him a sharp look.
"Something wrong?" Steve looked between his men and got the sense that he was missing something.
"Look...Barnes seemed like he could use a little...letting off the steam." Dugan shrugged. "He'll be fine."
Dugan's complacent attitude struck him as a little odd. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
The men's expressions gave nothing away, although Farnsworth couldn't quite meet his gaze. "Farnsworth." he said firmly. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
Dugan and Dernier shared a glance, and in the end Farnsworth blinked and looked surprise. "Not at all?" he made it sound like a question, like he was surprised to have been addressed.
Steve looked between his men a moment, but he'd deal with that later. If Bucky was really in danger, he knew they'd tell him. "I'll be back." he inclined his head and headed out, and a few minutes later he found himself at the aforementioned inn.
The innkeeper had been reluctant to divulge information at first, but then Steve had explained about his friend, a soldier on leave, and that he was worried. The innkeeper had gotten a strange look on his face, and had a sharp discussion with his wife in French. He was beginning to realize that his rudimentary grasp of French was becoming increasingly problematic. He couldn't rely on his men to translate, especially when they were sometimes the one talking circles around him. Even Bucky knew French, the jerk.
He caught a few words. 'Forest'. 'Catch'. 'Business'. He thought he pieced together something about 'not our business', and something about a secret, perhaps?
In the end, the innkeeper regarded Steve with a frown. "Your friend...he is fine."
"I'd like to confirm that for myself, thanks." he said, and he wanted to question them, but that wouldn't get him anywhere. He could tell just from how they were acting.
The husband and wife tittered again for a moment, before she motioned him outside and spoke with a thick accent. "There ees a path to the woods, just beside thees inn. There's a leetle...shack near the river...look there."
Steve had an uneasy feeling in his gut, and he was a little dubious, but he did as she'd said. It was dark out, but the moon was nearly full as he made his way to the 'shack'. It seemed like a small cottage more than anything, and he drew closer slowly. He was careful to be quiet, and ready for anything as he crept up to the window. The curtains were drawn, but there was a slit he could see through at an angle and he peered inside. There was a dim lamp light, and a few candles scattered about. And it was more than light enough to see the view in side.
After a moment of orienting the squinty figures he saw, he realized that Bucky was shirtless with his back against a wall. There was a knife pressed against his stomach, which already had a thin trail of blood from a cut, he had a knick on his cheek and it looked a little swollen, and his face was reddening by the second. There was a hand on his throat, squeezing the life out of him, that belonged to a shirtless, light-haired man he assumed was 'Jean-Luc'. Bucky's nails were dug into his hands, a detail which Steve couldn't catch, but he saw Bucky gripping the wrist anyway. There was also a gun held loosely at Bucky's side in his other hand, and Steve had just enough time to wonder why Bucky hadn't used it as he burst in. The moment he'd seen Bucky being strangled, he'd been on his way.
He grabbed the man's shoulder and yanked him away even as he slammed a fist down on his arm so that he'd release Bucky. He hurled the man into the wall of the cottage, which rattled a little before he slunk down. Steve turned to Bucky, who seemed dazed a moment as oxygen filtered back into his brain, and then his eyes went unnaturally wide as he choked. "S-Steve!"
For some reason, Bucky suddenly looked terrified, and he kept glancing between Steve and Jean-Luc who'd started to rise in an almost panicky fashion.
They said the first things you learned in a language were the curse words. Steve thought he knew a fair few of French vulgarities, but clearly there was a wealth of them that he was missing if Jean-Luc's angry flurry of words were any indication. He held the knife out defensively and addressed Bucky, another thickly accented individual.
"What ze Hell ees theese?" Jean-Luc demanded. He was a little shorter than Bucky, but he carried himself well and had a brawny, toned body that complemented his fair face and hair. Steve noted that he sported a bruise on his eye, and a few cuts on his stomach as well. Jean-Luc began rambling in French at Bucky, who still seemed panicked as he replied back in hasty French. Steve caught the word 'paramour' from Jean-Luc, which he knew meant 'lover'. Just what were they talking about?
Steve had had enough and he made a move towards Jean-Luc as he kept in front of Bucky protectively, but Bucky stuck a hand out and grabbed Steve's shoulder. Bucky said something sharp to Luc, who seemed angry at first, and a little irked but in the end, he grabbed his shirt and high-tailed it out of the cottage while Bucky kept a hand on Steve.
When he'd left, Steve whirled around angrily. "What are you doing, Buck? He just tried to kill you and you're letting him go? What am I missing here?" And then as he thought on it. "Why didn't you shoot him? And where the Hell is your shirt, Barnes?" he snapped, angry, concerned, and confused all at once so he reverted to Captain-mode.
The look of terror had become a grim resignation of sorts, but there was still a flicker of fear in Bucky's eyes that he didn't understand. Was Bucky afraid him? That didn't make any sense.
"It was just...it was a misunderstanding." Bucky mumbled as he suddenly moved past Steve and made a beeline for his shirt on the table. Steve could see a few welts on Bucky's back, like maybe he'd been struck with a belt, and there were still red imprints from Jean's fingers on his neck. There was definitely something he was missing, and Bucky's behavior was all wrong. He couldn't tip-toe around the issue, he needed answers now.
Steve gave Bucky just long enough to put his shirt on before he tugged the other man forward and pinned his back against a wall. Bucky tried to shove him off, but a determined super-soldier was an 'immovable freaking mountain' as Bucky had once described him. Steve's voice was all Captain as he ordered. "Tell me what the Hell is going on here, Barnes." He only called Bucky 'Barnes' during missions [and sometimes not even then] and when Bucky was, in a manner of speaking, in trouble.
Bucky's jaw clenched and he bit down on his lower lip as his eyes flittered around on anything, everything but Steve.
"Look at me." Steve snapped. "What is this?"
The door opened suddenly as Jean-Luc entered. Bucky's eyes widened and Steve stared at the idiot with a blank expression. Did he have a death-wish?
"Forgot my belt." The man said by way of explanation as he grabbed it, and then scoffed at Steve. "You could 'ave waited your turn, eet was just getteeng good. But I can't blame you...he ees a nice piece of-"
"Get the f*** out of here." Bucky snarled, and Steve wasn't sure he'd heard that tone from Bucky before. It send a little chill down his spine for reasons he couldn't explain, and when he looked at Bucky, the ferocity he found in his gaze made him almost look like a stranger.
Jean-Luc shrugged and blew him a mocking kiss as he headed off, and when Steve looked back at Bucky who still refused to meet his gaze, he put things together.
'You could have waited your turn, it was just getting good' 'But I can't blame you, he is a nice piece of'...Steve knew what would have likely followed that sentence. And suddenly the scene he'd stumbled onto. The shirtless, breathless men, the unfired gun, Bucky's terror and surprise, Jean-Luc's angry reaction like he'd interrupted something normal...
Steve let go of Bucky, and he stared at him dumb-founded. Bucky finally turned to him, apparently surprised to be let go of, and whatever he saw in Steve's expression must have been revealing because Bucky's expression bordered fear and misery, and more of that grim resignation.
"It's not what you think!" Bucky said desperately, his formally snarling voice now hoarse and a little choked.
Steve couldn't reply, too taken aback by what he'd seen and the implications. It was just so unexpected, so outside of his realm of reality, that he didn't quite know how to compute it at first.
And now it was Bucky reaching for Steve, but his hand fell and clenched just before he reached Steve. Possibly due to the fact that Steve had pulled away, and the misery on Bucky's face piqued. "Steve, I-"
"It's...it's okay..." Steve finally spoke and cut him off, voice bled dry of emotion, he just felt a little numb. Shell-shocked maybe, and his voice was pretty stoic as he said. "It's fine. We should go." He couldn't deal with this, couldn't think about it. Because it made no sense and it was too much, and he wasn't sure he could handle this conversation right now.
"It's not what you think." Bucky repeated, the desperation still clear in his voice.
Steve didn't want to reply, he didn't want to think about it, about the scene that kept replaying in his head now. If he thought about it, maybe Bucky hadn't looked angry when he was being strangled, he'd looked...content. When was the last time he'd seen Bucky look like that? "Then what is it?" he found himself asking.
Bucky opened his mouth to answer and then closed it. Opened and closed it. And finally, he shuffled his feet a bit as he said quietly. "It was nothing."
"Didn't look like nothing."
Pain splattered across Bucky's expression like he'd been struck, and Steve had no idea what the Hell was going on here. He'd thought Bucky was being killed, but no, he was...he was in the middle of...what, some kind of twisted foreplay? With a man? He wasn't sure what shocked him more, that Bucky had apparently been enjoying being strangled and abused, or that it had been by a man. How long had this been going on? How long had he hidden it from Steve? And he thought about the reactions of the men at the table. Had they known? Was he the only one that didn't?
Bucky hadn't spoken, and it seemed he'd have to drag answers out of him. Did he want to? If they left without a word, could they pretend it never happened? But it would plague Steve in the back of his mind, and he would wonder when Bucky said he was going out to see a dame if he wasn't really getting tortured by some guy. The thought made him physically ill, both in as far as context, and because he was in a situation where he had to think of it at all.
"So you...you like..." Steve struggled with the words. It wasn't that he had anything against 'fairies'. Given all that Steve had gone through, he wasn't about to judge a man based on his sexual orientation, he concerned himself with a man's character. But it was Bucky, and it was this, and it had come with such baggage and it was a slap in the face. Had Bucky been keeping something like this from him for...how long? Weren't they closer than that? What else had he been hiding? Why the Hell did the Commandos know about it?
Why couldn't Bucky look him in the eyes?
"No!" Bucky cried, and his fingers rolled wildly by his sides. He was anxious and then some. "It's not-I'm not...damnit, Steve. You weren't supposed to be here!" his teeth were clenched as he put a hand to his head and rubbed at his face. Steve noticed the skin of his knuckles was scraped off a bit, and he didn't want to think about what would have been the cause of that.
"Because this was supposed to be a secret. From me. From every one but me." Steve said lowly.
Bucky's eyes widened. "They told you?" he seemed mortified, and then a bit angry.
Not as angry as Steve was, he was sure. "No, you just did." He'd confirmed that they knew...something. Maybe everything.
Bucky opened his mouth in surprise and then closed it again as he flushed, caught.
"I thought we didn't keep secrets from each other, Buck." Steve said softly, not trying to be gentle, but because he was hurt and if he let the anger in his chest out, this conversation might not end so well. Because Bucky had looked afraid of him, perhaps thinking Steve would reject him, and it made him sick. Didn't Bucky trust him more than that? Didn't their bond mean anything?
"We don't! It's not-I-" Bucky repeated the same stammer, and Steve's hand snaked out to clamp around Bucky's mouth, almost painfully tight a moment.
"I don't wanna hear another lie, or another...'it's not, I'm not'...I want to know why you've been keeping secrets, and what the Hell just happened, and if you can't give me a straight answer..." he trailed off. Then what? How far would this cause a rift between them?
But it seemed to do the trick, because Bucky apparently let his mind wander onto whatever punishment he thought Steve would inflict and it wasn't something pleasant. He grasped Steve's wrist and pulled his hand away, and the sweaty, tense grip didn't feel like Bucky at all. Steve pulled his hand away and drew himself up to his full height as he gazed stoically at Bucky.
Bucky, uncharacteristically, seemed a little slumped and withdrawn, like a kid who'd been scolded or feared the lash. He hated seeing Bucky like that, hated that he'd apparently been the cause, but he had to know. But he didn't say anything, and he just seemed a little more slumped when Steve pulled his hand away. Steve took his silence as an answer, and turned to walk away when Bucky's hand found his wrist again and turned him around. He removed his hand quickly as though burned, perhaps fearing Steve would pull it away again.
Steve turned silently and lifted a brow, and Bucky licked his lips a few times before he started to speak, the words seemingly forced from his throat.
"I need it." he whispered. And Bucky's expression twisted like he'd eaten a lemon and he clenched his hands at his sides.
Steve blinked. "Need what?"
Bucky's jaw clenched as he looked around the room again before his gaze settled on Steve. "The pain." he cursed then, and turned away from Steve as he brought his forehead against the wall and dug his fingers into the wood a moment.
Steve was a little concerned that maybe Bucky wasn't all there at the moment, but when Bucky turned around with a furrowed brow and and an angry expression, full of unfamiliar self-loathing, he felt like he'd been sucker-punched.
Bucky spoke firmly this time, the words cold and emotionless as gave the truth clinically. Some might have said Bucky was being callous, but Steve recognized it for what it was. He was trying to pretend he didn't care, trying to be cold so he didn't fall apart. Steve almost stopped him, almost gave up on the whole thing, but they had to have this out.
"I always liked it rough. And I always found a dame willing to play along. Lotta guys like that. Nothing fancy." Bucky met Steve's gaze evenly, despite his clenched jaw and tense posture. "I like girls. The idea of screwing a guy makes me want to throw up. That's not what was going on."
Steve wasn't sure exactly where this was headed, but he didn't dare speak, lest Bucky lose his resolve. And that was fine, because Bucky continued on his own.
"And it's not like it's just the sex." he said bluntly, and Steve's eyes widened slightly. Bucky had always teased him about his virginal status, but he was rarely so blunt. "We risk our lives every f***ing day, a good night out just...not dying, that's fine. Don't need a dame. Got the team, got you, that's good by me. Sex is just...a bonus." he paused then, and seemed to collect his thoughts.
"But it's not enough...and it's not what I need." Bucky mentioned need again, and Steve wasn't getting it at all. He thought maybe Bucky was just talking on random tangents, that maybe he was more injured than Steve thought. But he'd let the other finish and see if it tied together.
Bucky didn't keep talking though, and Steve said lightly. "I don't understand, Buck."
That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because Bucky's expression flared and he slammed a fist against the wall, and his already scraped knuckles bled a little as rough wood made contact.
"Bucky-" Steve started forward in concern, but Bucky held up a hand.
There was a bitter twist to his lips, and something like self-mockery as well as that clinical chill as he continued. "Yeah, 'course you don't. You're a damned choir boy. You're a freaking angel. Why would you understand what monsters do?"
Steve's eyes widened, and he decided that he had to put a stop to this. Something was clearly wrong with Bucky. "You are not a monster...I think he knocked you around a little too hard...just forget it, let's-"
"I can't!" Bucky screamed suddenly, and his hands gripped the sides of his head. Steve was aware of the smell of alcohol then, and he suspected that Bucky had been imbibing. Despite that, he didn't think the other was very drunk. So what was it? "I can't forget! Every time I close my eyes...I'm there. When someone shines a f***ing flash light in my face, when it gets too dark...when I'm in a hospital and there's all those f***ing instruments...and sometimes I look at you, and I remember him-and that blood on my hands...and I...I...Damnit!"
And then it clicked for Steve. The thing Bucky couldn't remember. And suddenly things made more sense but he was still missing something, there were a few final pieces to the puzzle.
"I thought I was going to die there, Steve. Hell, I thought I was dead...I wished I was dead...at first, I just kept thinkin' we'd get rescued...get out somehow. Kept thinkin' I couldn't die 'cause I had to get home to you...who was gonna take care of Stevie?" Steve's heart clenched at that, and the urge to embrace Bucky and wipe away all his pain was overwhelming. "But then they just...tear you up too many times. They rip your heart apart and stitch it back together too many f***ing times until there's nothin' left...and then you don't care about going home, or makin' it out, you just want it to stop...you just hope you'll close your eyes, and never open 'em again." he hissed, pained.
"Sometimes, just sometimes, I think maybe I'll open my eyes and be back there again. That you're just another dream. And I can't-I can't...I can't." he let out a ragged breath and clutched at his chest. Steve again tried to reach for him, and Bucky pulled away and shot him a look like there was something foul in his mouth.
"Buck..." Steve breathed, the sight of his frenzied, pained friend more than he could bear. He should have never come.
"But the pain...it helps. I don't know...it's backwards and twisted and...messed up...it should be the opposite. But it's not. That pain just feels real, the pain was the only thing that was ever real in there...it grounds me, helps me focus...and it...it feels good. Like I can trust it or somethin'...I can't explain it. It just makes sense. And that's why it's gotta be a guy."
'I don't understand' seemed to be a taboo phrase, so Steve settled for a mild. "Why's that?"
Bucky shot him a look like he was an idiot. "You think I'd let some girl go through that? Make her deal with me? I can't ask a dame to do this." he gestured at himself, the welts and cuts, the slightly swollen face, and his fingers brushed against the neck that had been so thoroughly crushed just a little earlier. "There's guys like me though...Hell, some of 'em don't get it and they still like it anyway. And I don't gotta feel bad, 'cause they're all pricks. They understand, or they don't care, and we don't gotta talk about it. We just give each other a fix. What we need. Don't even know their damned names. Don't care. Don't f***ing like guys, I'm not a fairy, Steve." he hissed, and all fear had left. He just seemed angry, and a little...deranged.
"I know that." Steve soothed. "I know. That was stupid of me...I'm sorry." he tried to talk calmly in the face of the revelation he'd been given. The new understanding and foreign side of Bucky. How had he missed it? He'd thought Bucky was mostly over what had happened at Hydra, but he'd...been such a fool. Because of course he wasn't. He'd just found a brutal way to cope, and hide the pain. And he actually thought Steve would reject him for it. He could see the resignation in Bucky again, and he realized that the initial fear had been of that. That Steve would turn from him, be repulsed by him.
"Don't talk to me like that, Rogers!" Bucky snapped, apparently not liking Steve's soothing tone. He supposed Bucky had taken it like being talked to like a child. And then his expression twisted, the mocking tone and self-loathing returned. "Guess you don't want me on the team anymore, huh?"
Steve had no idea how to handle this. So he just gave himself up.
"It doesn't change anythin', Buck. You're still my best friend, we're still family." And he was hurt by the surprise that registered in Bucky's expression. "I just wish...you had told me any of this...I could have-"
"What? Helped me? Wouldn't take much for you to choke me out-" Bucky cut Steve off, and then himself as he realized what he was saying. The look of horror and disgust that dawned made it clear that Bucky had never considered Steve a potential candidate for giving him his pleasured pain. Which was relieving, but somehow, perhaps slightly disappointing. And that was a sick thought.
Steve didn't want anything to do with that situation, but anything to do with Bucky mattered to him. He didn't want to hurt Bucky, the thought of doing what he'd seen Bucky and Jean doing offended every sensibility he had, it made him sick. But he considered taking care of Bucky part of his life as much as Bucky considered taking care of Steve part of his. And so he was determined to believe that he could have helped Bucky somehow. But what could he do? He'd always thought he could do anything for Bucky, but if Bucky had ever asked-even after explaining-Steve was sure he couldn't do that to Bucky. He couldn't help him, and that was what disappointed Steve.
Bucky suddenly slid down against the wall, and kept one leg straight and one up as he buried his face in his hands. "I'm a mess, Steve." he finally whispered, and he sounded like Bucky, albeit it weary and sad. "I didn't...want you to see me like this...I didn't want you to think I'm..."
Bucky didn't finish, and Steve wasn't sure this time how it would have ended. If he would call himself a 'monster' again, or messed up, or whatever else. But the anger and madness seemed to have fled Bucky, and now he just seemed lost.
Steve suddenly plopped down beside Bucky, their thighs touching a bit as he moved in close. Bucky seemed taken aback as he lowered his hands and eyed Steve warily. But then he started to pull away a little, self-disgust clear in his expression. "Don't touch me, Steve...you don't want what I got."
Which Steve figured was a roundabout way of Bucky thinking he would be tainting Steve, which was bulls***. He grabbed Bucky's shoulders and yanked him to face Steve. Steve stared hard at the other a moment, not entirely sure what he wanted to do, what he could say.
He lifted a hand like a raised fist, and he saw Bucky's eyes widen in surprise before he flinched a little and seemed resigned again. Like he thought Steve would hit him and he'd deserve it, and it just broke Steve. This broken man was his Bucky, he knew that, but he was shrouded in a darkness Steve couldn't understand and didn't know how to dispel. Bucky had always had a little dark side, but this was something else, something they had forced on him.
In the end, as was intended, his fist became a gentle brush of his fingers on Bucky's slightly swollen cheek. And that seemed to break Bucky a little bit, because his breath hitched as he watched Steve uncertainly.
"I don't know how to help you, Buck. I don't even...entirely know what's wrong." he laughed mirthlessly, sad more than anything. And he saw Bucky tense and corrected himself. "There's nothing wrong with you." he said firmly. "You're not...a bad person because of this...or anything, you're a good man, Buck." Bucky snorted and Steve dug his fingers into the shoulder he still had a hand on. He regained Bucky's attention and continued.
"I could say a lot of things...count off all the reasons that you're as amazing as you always said you were." Bucky swallowed hard at that. "I could explain why it's okay. I could point out that what happened to you wasn't your fault, and no one in their right minds would blame you for needing to cope. However you have to." Bucky's eyes widened slightly, like he'd never considered it like that, and Steve's heart ached for Bucky who'd been carrying his silent burden all along. "But instead I'll just say this...even if you were a monster, and you're not, by the way...It wouldn't matter to me. Because you're still my Bucky. And I don't wanna hear any more crap about you being off the team, because your insuboordinate arse is mine, Barnes." he added the last bit as the Captain, and Bucky seemed dumbfounded.
"You still want me on the team?"
Was that all he had gotten out of that?
"You are my team, Buck...it's you and me against the world, till the end of the line...that's what you promised, right?"
Bucky looked like he'd been struck for an entirely different reason this time, and the first bit of hope he'd seen since this began entered Bucky's bleak expression. "But...aren't you...disgusted?" he said the word quietly, like Steve might change his mind.
"Hey!" he snapped, and Bucky blinked in surprise. "You listen here, James Barnes," Bucky actually grimaced a little, "Quit doubting me. Okay? However much you think you care about me, I care about you more. If taking care of me is your job, then taking care of you is sure as Hell mine. There's nothing you could do that would make me stop think badly of you, or love you any less, except maybe if you keep being such an idiot and thinking I would ever let you go." He wasn't sure quite how else to phrase that.
Bucky drew in a slow breath as he met Steve's gaze, and whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find it because relief settled the tension in his shoulders as he brought his hand up to Steve's shoulder. When Steve didn't move away, he seemed encouraged. "I'm not going to get into one of those stupid 'No, I love you more', fights like a freaking girl. But for the record. Taking care of you is my job, and I definitely care about you more, punk. You can't hold a candle to me."
Steve laughed a little, relieved that Bucky seemed...like himself again, and he pulled Bucky into a tight hug. He could practically feel Bucky's relief as, to his surprise, Bucky latched onto him a bit and squeezed him tightly. Steve returned it, and he felt Bucky jerk a little as he apparently hit a welt, but when he made to pull away, Bucky gripped him a little tighter.
"I need this too." Bucky said softly.
"Huh?"
"I would...dream about you in there, sometimes...me and you in Brooklyn...the old days...and then suddenly I wanted to live. I wanted to go home...no matter how bad they broke me...the pain reminds me it's real but..." he braced himself and made his confession. "You're what...you're what keeps me...human. Can't let myself go, can't disappoint you, need to have your back...you look at me like...like I'm a 'good man'...and then I need to be...I want to be...I need you to...to keep me whole."
Steve felt the wind go out of him, and rush of affection and love he felt for the other mind was mind-blowing. They were brothers in everything but blood, and this next revelation rocked Steve. This was what he'd wanted. He hated how it came about, but how many times had he wanted to be Bucky's rock the way Bucky was for him? To know that he had a place by Bucky? Bucky needed him...and the dummy had thought that would bother Steve.
Bucky's posture was tense again, was he worried about Steve's answer?
Steve rested his chin on Bucky's shoulder, and leaned his head against the smaller man's. "Am I really horrible person for being glad about that?" he murmured before he could stop himself. "I wish I could take your pain away, Buck...I wish I could have...gotten there in time but...we can't change the past. In the future...you should know...I want you to need me..." he grimaced. "That sounds a little weird."
"A little." Bucky agreed, almost instictively, but he sounded a little winded and Steve felt he was getting through to the other.
"I just mean...I don't want you to hide anything from me, Buck...no matter what. I meant what I said...there's nothing you could do that would make me...not be on your side. I'll always have your back, and I trust you to have mine...I believe in you...so lean on me as much as you need to...I'll do anything for ya, Buck..." he hesitated, and then chanced it. "As long as my shirt stays on."
Bucky made a choked noise and he thought he'd undone all the work his words had done at repairing Bucky's worries. But then he realized that it was a startled laugh, and for some reason, Bucky just kept laughing as he buried his face in Steve's shoulder. His body trembled with the laughter in Steve's arms, although he thought he felt something a little wet against his neck and thought maybe it wasn't all laughs. But it did mean he had gotten through to Bucky.
Steve allowed himself a moment's nostalgia as he held onto the other. To think on all the times Bucky had done as much for him, the times he had tried to even now. Bucky hadn't thought any different of him for becoming Captain America...he just as much a pain in the arse and wonderful partner that he always was. Steve had always been 'different', as the little guy and as Captain America, and Bucky had taken him as he'd come, happily.
"Trust me..." Bucky finally muttered against Steve's shoulder. "No one wants to see your damned eightteen-pack, Captain." he teased.
"I think there are some army wives who would disagree with you there." Steve said thoughtfully, and Bucky snorted.
They pulled apart then, although Steve's hands lingered on Bucky's shoulders, and Bucky clasped a hand on Steve's arm.
Sure enough, Bucky's eyes looked suspiciously red although they were dry as the men stared at each other a moment. Bucky asked lightly. "So we're...good?"
Steve smiled and squeezed Bucky's shoulder. "Of course we are. Jerk."
"Punk." Bucky replied automatically, and he couldn't remember the last time Bucky had smiled and he'd seen it reach his eyes.
"But...no more secrets. Promise me." Steve said firmly.
Something unreadable flashed across Bucky's face.
Bucky drew back as the knife cut across his cheek, and a quick fist found it's way to his face. The prisoner had been tied up, supposedly disarmed but apparently that wasn't the case. He'd snuck into camp to steal sensitive documents, and although he'd been quickly caught, there were still a few missing. Naturally, the army wanted them back, and they wanted all the information they could glean out of the man. It wasn't a mission for a nobody, but it wasn't a mission for Captain America either. Because Steve wouldn't approve of something like this. Steve wasn't an 'ends justifies the means' kind of guy. Which was okay, because Bucky could be that for him. He could be whatever Steve needed. Whatever it took to keep Steve's hands clean. Steve was the hero. And like he'd said, this was a war. You did whatever you could to win.
"Now, let's try this again." Bucky said as he brandished the knife and slammed his heel into the man's chest hard enough that he heard a rib crack. Bucky smiled grimly as he twirled the knife in his hand.
And Bucky kind of liked being the bad guy.
Bucky smiled, and Steve noted the way it no longer quite reached his eyes. He misinterpreted the cause though, and thought Bucky was just being a little sad again. "How could I say no to that baby-face?" he drawled, before he play-punched Steve's cheek and ruffled his hair. "You're too good to me, y'know that?"
"You were always good to me." Steve countered, unaware that he'd allowed himself to be led away from actually securing a promise from Bucky, as per the other's plan.
Bucky's expression softened as he exhaled heavily, almost a sigh as he shook his head. "Sap."
"Says you, you got my shirt wet." he teased, and Bucky seemed slightly embarrassed as he rubbed the back of his head.
"Shut up, Rogers."
"Aww, Buck, you're adorable when you blush."
"I know where you sleep."
"And I have the authority to make you do push ups and run laps just for fun."
Bucky scowled. "That's playing dirty, Steve."
"I learned from the best." Steve snarked fondly, and the pair rose and ended up leaving the cabin to head back. They walked in the moonlight in silence for a ways, until Bucky said softly.
"Thanks, Stevie."
Steve smiled warmly. He had a lot to think about...for all that he'd said to Bucky, this wasn't over. He didn't consider Bucky a monster, he was the best guy Steve knew. And he didn't think he was wrong, but he was broken. And Steve wanted desperately to fix him, to chase away his nightmares and bring him back to an existence where he didn't need pain to feel reassured of reality. But he was glad that Bucky needed him. That was something he could do, something he could grasp and hold onto. Helping Bucky...remember who he was. What he was.
A good man.
"Any time, Buck." Steve said, and he meant it, and looking ahead with a smile and a reknewed bit of hope, he missed the way Bucky's gaze slid away guiltily as a new weight took precedence and settled on his shoulders.
No more secrets, Steve had asked. And Bucky had thought of some secrets he'd held, things he'd done for himself and to protect Steve. Thought of the way that having pain inflicted gave him footing in reality, thought of how having Steve grounded him. Thought of the way inflicting pain on others helped relieve his nightmares, helped settle his darker urges. Ones that might make the events of that night seem mild. No more secrets, Steve had asked. And he would do anything for Steve.
Anything but that.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
So, I was planning a Howling Commandos sequel to Mr. Not-So-Nice guy where Bucky gets busted by the until-then oblivious Cap for torturing a guy behind his back. [And an alternate version where Cap just remains oblivious and it ends kind of like this did, with Bucky smiling but thinking otherwise]. And now this is going to tie in so well when Bucky gets busted because...holy Hell. Steve's going to feel betrayed. XD I digress. I thought it was going to end up light, because of the amusing intro, but then Bucky just went...buck wild and Steve was shaken and...wow. Emotional roller-coaster of feels and angst [and let's face it, the dark stuff is fun to write]. For me anyway. XD Thought about maybe Steve does dip in and give Bucky some pain, [in a less sexual way], but that seemed too unrealistic. Steve might suck it up and bruise him for a hot minute, but then he'd be unable to stomach hurting Bucky even if he wanted it, and Bucky wouldn't let Steve 'dirty' himself like that. So. No. XD
I know, this was odd, maybe. But I did manage to inject some fluff and more of my sickeningly-sweet dialogue. I love doing that, I guess. XD Reviews are like verbal hugs. Thoughts are appreciated. Be open-minded. I think this is realistic. Everything Bucky went through, pain becomes a center, a fixation for him. Kind of like Stockholm syndrome if you squint. He needs the pain, it was the only thing that was real in his messed-up time as a test-subject. But he needs Steve too, because Steve reminds him to be human and good and not just give in to being what might be more comfortable at this point, which is darker and colder. So he doesn't have to deal with nightmares and feelings and such. And Steve understands a bit, but not as well as he thinks...he just can't understand completely how...dehumanizing the torture experience is, even despite his trails as a kid.
Well, now that I've made a really long author's note and possibly been a tool in psycho-analyzing my writing..._ Forgive me, expect fluff in the next chapter, and enjoy! This got so much longer than I expected. XD Stole my time from other stories, but I LOVED IT. I digress. Also, side note, Bucky uses the f-word a fair bit. We don't hear it in the movies, but that's because it's language is dictated by it's rating. In real life WWII times [any time, really] soldiers/men/people have potty mouths. But them in particular, I would think. Anyway! I adore you people! Enjoy! ~Witchy~
