"Are you asleep?" Steve's murmured question stirred wisps of Bucky's hair, head tucked under his chin, body sprawled heavy and engulfing against his own. Answered by the deep rise and fall of his chest, pressing rhythmic weight, breaths long and full hinting of sleep not quite upon him yet.

Steve focused on this moment of comfort, being held tight in his arms, grounding them, a flash to times past when a hand stayed to linger, draped across his shoulders, a look with deeper meaning held his gaze, words not spoken but the message clear. A fleeting thought of regret that he hadn't voiced his feelings from their beginnings, didn't step into that haunting embrace, hadn't taken or given what both desired in the past; grateful for the now.

"Can't get enough of you," his breathed confession into his gathering of a cascade of long hair, pulled to caress his cheek, needing the softness, his scent, the damp evidence of shared bodies filling his senses. A twitching reminder in his gut when Bucky's hips rolled slow and teasing pressure, his cock dragging against his belly. A hand leading his own to caress skin, hip to ass, helping fingers explore flesh still hot and full from his taking, pressing inward, satisfying their need for Steve to enter his body. Faint sighed breaths as Bucky moved rhythmic to meet his fingers, widening knees, giving him access.

"So not asleep," Steve's mouth pressed to hair, a cautious move to stretch his legs, held too long in one position, Bucky moaned a protest when fingers slipped from their excursions, he pushed his hand back into place. "Right, sorry, at your command," Steve's laugh stirred hair across his face. A tender move to pull the long strands aside, he studied dark lashes lying wet on his skin, a thumb dragged to smooth the lines of tiredness, stealing a caress of his mouth. A toying lips-parted attempt to capture his finger, he pressed his thumb to soothe a cheek left red from the burn of his beard. A soft smile towards Bucky's eyes-closed peacefulness.

Steve's tongue slid along his own lips, searching for a taste of Bucky's skin, never having enough, resisting the urge to pull his mouth to his own, dragging him from the edge of rest. His hand wandering across muscle firm to soft, smooth into rough, lightly gliding down an arm that held him close, a thigh that tightened his pressured grip on his body; hips rolling a slow and insistent reminder, meeting his gentle exploration.

Steve ventured quiet words, "You know I'm jealous, don't you?"

Metal plates shifted tighter across his shoulders, fingers digging into flesh, the subtle hiss tickling his hearing.

His gaze fell to dark marks scattered across Bucky's pale skin, pulled by his mouth, needing to be touched before they faded, careful fingers traced the open evidence of his claiming. Flushing heat spread when the touch stirred him to lift his head, inviting Steve's exploration.

Bucky pulled himself upward, head tilting, pulse exposed, bringing his throat to Steve's mouth.

"Unacceptable Soldat. Only Hydra can mark you. Only Mother. Only the First Handler."

A shivered intense request, "More, I want more of you, not them," whispered against Steve's temple. "They fade too fast, do it harder, I want them to stay forever," a hand rough pulled at the back of Steve's head, forcing his mouth to his chest.

"Fool. All the marks fade, you know this. All except the deepest. The ones he'll never see. Marking you as theirs."

Steve's fingers slow dragged down Bucky's offered neck, skin rough with faint stubble slipping beneath his touch, mouth brushing unmarked flesh, lingering on his pulse, a pause when he pressed light to his bruising. Fading red streaks evidence of Stark's gauntlet, interspersed with Steve's pulled claiming, warm and raised, the marks more similar than he could bear. The temptation to add to their darkness pushed aside, "No more. Let them fade. We have time."

"Good. You don't need those marks where you're going. Hard to explain."

An irritated sigh, a mumbled, "I don't care." Bucky settled back into Steve's lap, foreheads pressed together, he tightened his knees, a message of owning him, slow rising and falling, a rhythmic welcome of his exploration. A metal thumb pressed light to a pulse, the tense bounding evident to the sensors, Bucky pulled in a breath, a hint of wonder showing in his eyes, "I can feel your heart" whispered close to Steve's mouth. His hand dropping to caress skin, fingers spread wide sliding down to find tender flesh.

Bucky dropped his head to nuzzle into Steve's neck, tasting his skin, the salt of their mingled sweat, his mouth pulling hard, teeth embedded in flesh, he drew a soft moan urging him on. Bucky moved his body slow and rhythmic, meeting Steve's taking, matching his breaths, the feel of skin pressed to skin sending warmth across his gut. A hand tangled in his hair, pulling to break his hold, he left his mark dark and tender, his tongue slipping along a throat, teasing wetness to Steve's ear, he whispered, "There, now everyone will know you're mine."

A flash of warmth raced across Steve's skin, a tightening embrace, fingers searching tender flesh, mouths teasing contact, blood settling in his cock pressed against Bucky's, eyes caught watching one another. An open-mouthed kiss deep exploring, Steve needed to have him under him, laid out, legs raised, pushing up to fill him, face-to-face, his brace to roll them over, caught short by Bucky's sudden grip on the headboard. Tension ripped through their bodies, a shared grab of their attention, all movement stopped, Bucky's head jerked up, his gaze darting towards the window past the bed.

"What is it?" Steve's eyes intent on Bucky's face, startled to alertness, his worst-case scenario playing out across his features. He watched and felt the shifted weight, eyes scanning the landscape beyond the window, both tense and expectant, listening. Bucky's mind telling him to run, hands moving to hold tight to his hips, keeping him from bolting, Steve's voice, reassuring "Wait, just wait," giving him a reason to stay a few seconds longer.

A far-off rumble of a vehicle approaching, too distant to ping the surveillance, but close enough for their hearing. Low muttered bouncing off bare trees and the hillside, wafting in the window open to the early Spring air.

"Any day now Soldat. Your indiscretion in that sweat-laden city should bring all those black SUVs to your door. CIA, Interpol, FBI, the New Hydra. Drug dealers, you know how they hold a grudge, you stole their statue. Your legacy; a historic coalition of international agencies just to kill your sorry ass."

Bucky held himself raised up on his knees, a head tilt to pull in the echoes, instant response to the faintest of sounds. The head shake tell of the Voice's commentary clear to Steve. The throaty rumble of their pickup staggering in and out, set off by a high-pitched screech as it droned closer and louder. A familiar looming noise.

Steve's calming words, a hand that caressed his cheek, "It's okay, that's the truck. Sam must be bringing it back." Hands holding him still, not releasing a tight grip until his body relaxed, tension slipping enough to drop back into Steve's lap.

A deflecting observation, forehead dropping to forehead, "Listen to that. He's grinding the gears and he bitches that I abuse the truck." Searching for the connection lost, an insistent attempt to move Steve's fingers back to their intimate task, a quiet request, "Don't stop touching me."

"Only a matter of time. They'll come for you. Go home Soldat. The only safe place."

A slow move of his head, side to side, his answer near inaudible, "I'm home already."

"Yes, we are," Steve agreed as he cupped Bucky's face, forcing eye contact, "You and I are home." Murmured words, answers to unheard questions, tremors, and head shakes, distant stares and darted looks to empty corners driving his resolve. "Did you hear me?" A thumb caressed Bucky's jaw, Steve said again, "I'm jealous."

"Choose your words well. He wants your secrets."

The moment hung between them, Bucky's response hesitant, confusion crossing his face, he stuttered, "Jealous? Of what? My sparkling banter?"

Steve shook his head, "No. 'Fuck you' is not banter."

"I will forever debate that," Bucky's hand dropping to stroke Steve's chest, a finger circling his nipple, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Distraction, perfect."

Another head shaken denial, a muttered, "I want to touch him." Bucky spread knees wider, forcing his ass deeper into Steve's lap, "Jealous of Wilson? I hate him. If you want me to hate you, you're gonna be disappointed."

A tender caress of Bucky's cheek, sadness creeping into Steve's tone, "No. Not Sam."

A flush of confusion crossed his face, then concern followed by a flatness that gave away his efforts to hide his thoughts, "Romanova." Bucky's gaze shifted, side to side, away from Steve. Heart beating faster, a thrill beneath the fingers brushing his throat.

Steve pulled Bucky's gaze back to him, "No. It wasn't Romanova. Until right now. What the hell was that?"

"You're an idiot. There is no hope for you."

Bucky squirmed to free his face, "What?"

Steve held firm, "That look, darting all over the room. Your heartbeat fluttered. What's the story between you two?"

A firm denying head shake despite Steve's grip, "No story. I shot her. Twice. She has a grudge."

Steve's flat statement, "You knew what size bikini she wears."

"What? Are you serious?" Bucky pulled Steve's hands from his face, "I guessed. It's a skill."

A skeptical counter, "Bikini sizing?"

Bucky pulled his hand through his hair, "Body disposal if you must know."

Steve caught him by the back of the neck, "Nope. James Buchanan Barnes, you are lying to me." He shook him, holding their eye contact.

"Shit. You're ruining good sex with all this talking." A hard squeeze of the nipple he fondled, "Especially about Romanova."

Steve grabbed Bucky's wrists, "Then tell me what happened."

"God, Steve it's ancient history. Nothing happened. Just another glorious day as the Winter Soldier. Shit went down, people died."

"No wonder Hydra wiped your mind. You suck at keeping secrets."

Bucky blurted, "I do not suck at keeping secrets. I have plenty of them." An intent awkward stare after the words came out.

Steve studied his face, "I didn't say you sucked at keeping secrets. And I know you have too many of them. I want to know what they are." His move to sit forward pushed into Bucky's space, chest to chest, he wrapped his arms around his body, a hand pressed up between shoulders, one draped across his ass so tight and close Bucky's breath caught up short.

A shudder at Steve's words spoken next to his ear, "I want you." Cheek brushing cheek, intensity evident, Bucky's body softened, the heat of Steve's skin melting all of his tension.

Steve breathed words deliberate and heated, "I want to be inside of you." Lips pressed intermittent between the words, "Inside your thoughts, inside your dreams." Mouth brushing a cheek, then the other, coming to rest on his lips, pulled back enough to whisper, "I want to fill you." The words pulling a whimper, "I want to be inside your body. Your heart. Your memories. All of it. No secrets, no holding back."

"He's going to ask about The Architect. You know what will happen if you tell."

Steve's tongue slipped past Bucky's lips, a slow taking of his mouth, licking in to brush against his tongue, pulling back as he tried to press the kiss deeper, pulling another whimper, leading him to chase after the kiss that he moved to deny.

A teasing evasion to stop him from connecting, Bucky gave in to Steve, a sighed capitulation, head dropping onto his shoulder, fingers digging deep into hips.

Steve murmured, "Look at me. I have something to tell you."

"You're a fool for telling him anything. The Architect will kill him, you know this. Kill him slow, chop him up, feed him to you and the dogs. Known fact. Order, Soldat. Order and pain are all that you understand."

A tremor moved through Bucky, its evidence showing in the movement of hair hanging past his face, he kept his head pressed to Steve's shoulder, "I can't. No more questions. No more talking."

Steve stroked Bucky's hair, "I know you're hearing that Voice. I can see it. You're talking to it, listening to it." A shrugged shoulder trying to get Bucky to look at him, "I bet I can tell you what it's saying." Fingers dragged across his scalp, he leaned his head into the touch, "It's telling you to run, that you can't trust me, to distract me, am I right?"

"Abort this conversation immediately, tell him about the Widow."

Bucky raised his head, near a confession, wanting to trust him, trying to let him in, overtaken by fear, his stare lasted heartbeats before the desperate squirm to free himself. Panic welling up, a panting whined breath, his push and pull to break Steve's grip ineffective.

The embrace firm, his escape thwarted, their mouths close, breaths flirting against the other's lips, he blurted his pressured confession, "It doesn't matter what happened, it's in the past. I didn't hurt her. She was there, a safe-house, Russian soldiers. A girl. Red hair. Snuck away from her Madame. Creeping into the basement." A staggered breath pulled in, wary eyes watching Steve's impassive expression. Waiting for the judgment, expecting disbelief. A lean to bring his mouth close to his ear, hovering near before whispering, "A cell, in a cell, not naked but close. Questions, ancient history, Red Room stories, are they true? She asked. Did it really happen? Memories wiped away, a hard wipe, don't talk about it Soldat."

Steve pulled in a steadying breath, unconscious holding it in, eyes watching the tremor shake through Bucky's hair, feeling it move from body to body. A hesitant, "It's okay, I got you."

Bucky leaned his temple to Steve's, "Ignored her, had to, no choice. Rules to follow. Not safe to talk to her, not safe for her, for the Soldier." A pull back, eyes darting towards Steve's, wary and distant, speech pressured and rasped, "Stupid girl offering food, a blanket, water. Like that mattered." A near out of control laugh fell away as quick as it started, "She watched me. Staring at me. Like some animal in a cage." Another hitched laugh, eyes darted away from Steve's, "Not wrong."

"Not true. That's not true." Steve's fingers spread wider on Bucky's body, an attempt to leave a kiss on his cheek, thwarted when Bucky ducked away.

A pressured push against Steve's hips, trying to separate, eyes locking on something distant, "Soldiers came, tore her clothes, long lonely winters there, you know. She fought them, just a kid. I don't know what happened, something clicked in my head. I stopped them. Not sure why. Just did it." Tremors tore through him, muscles spasming, ghosted sensations spurred on by the recollections, his head dropped to Steve's shoulder, "Fuck. Fucking stun prod, over and over, take your punishment. No screaming, shut up. Fucking kill one of us, you're gonna pay Soldat. Fuck. Fucking stupid girl." Bucky rasped between panting breaths, "No more talking." The push of his hands on Steve's hips intensified, the tremors forcing a flush to his skin, he rocked his head against Steve's neck.

A ragged pulled in breath, Steve whispered "I'm sorry. So sorry." His face buried in the fall of his hair, arms wrapping tight, holding him through the tremors that shook them both. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked. I never should have asked."

Bucky's growling struggle, hard pushing to break free, he rolled away in an awkward panting scramble from Steve's lap. A groaned "Fucking cramps," as he curled on the bed next to him grabbing his calf.

"Damn it, Steve, this is what you do, you ask and beg and plead, 'Tell me what happened. Tell me what they did to you,' and then I open that fucking door, give you some stupid bit of my past, and you say 'I'm sorry I asked.' Maybe that's why I don't tell you shit." Bucky slapped away the hands that tried to hold onto him, he rolled to lie flat on his back, arm draped over his eyes. "Fucking jealous of what? A Widow? My shoe collection?"

Steve rolled to face him, hand reaching but not connecting, "I wish it were that simple."

"Do you really think he can replace me? Where was he when you fell? When they cut off your arm without so much as a stick to bite on? Has he told you how he searched for you in those snowy mountains? Maybe you're right, bring him with us. The Architect would love to meet him. You and the dogs can dine in opulence on the bones of the Captain. A suitable trade-off for abandoning you."

Bucky groaned "Liar. Enough. No more, just no more." A bolted upright scramble, yanking Steve onto his belly, a wrestling struggle to climb on his back, shove arms above his head, full weight pressure to hold him down. Steve's body willing in Bucky's hands, allowing full access, not fighting his frantic moves and angry handling, giving in to whatever he wanted.

"This. This is simple." Bucky's breath hot against Steve's ear, tongue licking the delicate flesh, caught between his teeth. Hips pressing insistent up into his ass, a fight to feel something other than fear, craving this body under his, skin-to-skin matching chest to back, thigh against thigh, his push more urgent with every groaned breath that his body forced from Steve. His mouth taking flesh, hard bite and sucking, leaving his dark evidence along the slope of his neck, he whispered, "Us together like this, simple."

Sweat broke across Steve's back, aching heat pushing up from his gut, wanting this moment. The feel of Bucky's weight laid along his body, the promise of what he would do, what they both wanted. Hips pulled to meet Bucky's rhythmic pressure, no thoughts given to their argument, body responding without thinking, muscles slack accepting the warmth of his cock growing. His voice distant and disconnected, logic fighting his need, a desperate ask, "Is the Voice telling you to do this, Buck? Is this you or that damn Voice?"

The out of context question stopping Bucky's taking. Staggered breaths, weight still and heavy on Steve's back, a final stutter, "What? The Voice? No, not that. Me. I want this."

Steve reached to wrap his fingers in Bucky's, pulling his arm, dragging him to roll off his back, a scrambling move to pull him in, arms around his shoulders, face pressing to his chest, "Okay, it's you, I believe you. Good. Not right now though, not now."

The silent pause between them filled with apprehension, incomplete answers, questions not asked, the tension in the room as palpable as the tightness in their bodies. Steve resolved to finish what he started, "I want the Voice to go away. I'm tired of sharing you. Tired of what it does to you. It has to go away."

"This will never be, Soldat. You cannot survive without me. He will never make you complete. Redirect him."

Bucky shook his head, hair rubbing against Steve's chin, "No Voice, it's not like that. Just saying stupid stuff. I'm a loser. Doesn't tell me to hurt you or anyone. I'm safe."

Steve remained insistent, "Yes, Voice. It's talking to you right now. Telling you what to say, what to do."

A push to rise up onto his knees, breaking their contact, Bucky's voice cracked, "What the fuck. You don't know that." He rolled to put space between them, hands wrapping around his knees, "How do you know that?"

Steve moved to crouch near, his reaching hand pushed aside, "I can see it in your eyes, the way you stop talking to me. Buck, you talk to it, out loud. Answering. You're talking to it while we're having sex."

"No. No Voice." Bucky wouldn't look at him, a head shake denying.

Steve countered, "Yes, always, worse now without the medications but yes always. I'm afraid for you, for us. Talk to me."

A deep breath pause, Bucky's eyes narrowed towards Steve, an evident struggle of trust, debating the cost he believed he'd pay, "I know it's not real."

"But, you're listening. I can tell it scares you. What is it saying that scares you?"

"This is a dangerous game you're playing Soldat. You need me to survive. He left you to be tortured. Abandoned you to Hydra. You don't need him."

Bucky's eyes darted to the corner, a head roll at his own indiscretion, he allowed Steve's hand to pull his gaze back to meet his own.

"Tell me what it's saying." Steve moved to kneel within a hair's breadth of Bucky's knees, "I swear I won't regret it or say I'm sorry I asked or act like an idiot. I give you my word."

The moments passed long and tense, no answer, not a nod or a sigh, watching one another, Steve imagined deep breaths, ticking the seconds to minutes in his head, quieting the itch to ask again, to grab arms, shaking out the answers. His self-discipline near gone, a faint pulled in breath to speak cut off.

Bucky's eyes direct, voice unfaltering, "You'll die if you go. It's telling me you'll die. I should leave you behind."

A firm reassurance, "Not gonna die."

"You're a disobedient fool."

A cold countering, "Leave you behind. The man I'm after will torture you. Cut you up into bits and feed you to the dogs." His gaze intense, studying Steve's response, expecting disbelief, "They won't kill me. Never. They'll hurt me. Only wipe my memory. I can do that. Can survive that."

Steve remained firm, "He may try to kill me, he won't succeed. I need to keep them from hurting you."

A faint twitch to his head, Bucky leaned to bring his mouth close to Steve's ear, "You don't know him. He will cut you up, feed you to the dogs - and me. He'd find that funny. I'd never know which meal is you. Always guessing. Hungry, but afraid to eat."

Steve couldn't hold back, "Jesus Buck," hands dropping to shoulders, pulling him tight.

Bucky pushed away, an awkward roll to stumble out of bed, frantic searching for his jeans, pulled on quick, hands shaking, feet shoved bare into his boots.

Steve followed him, "What are you doing?"

An answer thrown over his shoulder, "You need play by play? I'm getting dressed."

"Where are you going?" Steve pulled on his pants, "You were supposed to sleep. You're exhausted."

A curt response as he rummaged in the drawers, "And you're not."

Steve added, "No I'm fine."

Bucky pulled a T-shirt over his head, "Right. Neither of us has slept in days. Your fine, I'm not."

"Don't do this." Steve's hand on his arm swatted away.

A sighed, "Do what?"

Steve stepped to face him, "Walk away. You just told me what the Voice said, now we need to figure out how to ignore it. We're not done here."

A knock on the door, Bucky flinched more than Steve, Natasha's quiet interruption, "Sorry, Rogers, we need to talk."

Steve ran his hand through his hair, their eyes still locked, "Right, be there in a minute, Tasha."

Bucky turned away, gaze drawn to his image in the mirror, words measured and terse, "You're jealous of a Voice in my head. Do you know how stupid that is?"

"Not stupid if it gets between us," Steve stood at his shoulder, gaze connecting in the mirror. An ache twisting in his chest as he watched Bucky's face, anger mixed with pain, trust slipping away.

Sadness chased confusion across Bucky's features, "It's me, Steve. It's my voice. My head."

Body heat prickled skin, as Steve stepped closer, "No it's not. It's hurting you. It's coming between us."

A whispered plea, "It's part of me."

Steve's hand brushed light against Bucky's back, guarded attempt to connect, desperate to turn back the time even by an hour, evident tension warning him away, "I understand, but it's taking you away from me. I can't lose you. Not to Stark, not to the Raft, not even to your own mind."

"I -it - saved me," Bucky spoke to Steve's reflection in the mirror.

Steve's brushed his face to Bucky's hair, eyes half closed, pulling in his scent, irrational fears telling him to take this moment before time passed him by, "I'm sorry, Buck. I know you needed it maybe through everything. But not anymore. I'm here now. It's hurting you."

Bucky shrugged, sadness filling his voice, washing across his features, he watched their mirrored selves, "What do you want me to do? Cut it out of my brain? I said I'd take the medications, but that doesn't make it go away completely. So what do you want? A mind wipe? Maybe you'd like me to do that again. That's what they did. Wipe it away. You and Brooklyn and me, and the Voice. All gone in an instant. Well longer than an instant but who's counting after the first scream?"

The sound of the front door slamming, Sam's call of "Cap, Nat's got a lot to say, we really need to talk," shook both of them from the moment.

Bucky sighed, his tone cutting and cold, "Don't keep the Widow waiting." He stepped away from Steve to pick up the pill bottles from the floor.

"I'm sorry. We're not done, just give me a few minutes, come downstairs with me." Steve pulled on a sweatshirt.

Bucky waved an assent, "Yup, right behind you."

Steve paused hand on the doorknob, "I need something, I need you to give me your word."

"I already told you, Mom," Bucky's shake of a bottle clattered the pills inside, "I'll take the meds, stop beating me over the head with it."

A step towards Bucky, Steve's square-shouldered, clear expectation, "No. not that. I need you to give me your word you won't go without me."

Bucky pulled a drawer open, a pointed search, stirring the contents, "These socks never match, are you stealing my socks, Rogers?"

Steve answered, "I am not stealing your socks. Your word, Buck."

He tossed several on the floor, "Birdman then. Such an asshole. What does he want with my socks?"

"You don't wear socks. Remember?" Steve remained focused, "Your word."

A heavy sigh, Bucky turned to face him, "Look, I promise…"

Steve strode forward, stopping chest pressing to a chest, "No. Your word. No bullshit. You won't do this alone. Your word. Stronger than a promise more than a guideline."

A forceful shove drove Steve back against the wall, Bucky's anger flaring, hands pressing tight to biceps, words spoken close, "You don't get it. They'll kill you. Very dead and made into mincemeat. You may think that's fine, but I don't." A stolen caress of his cheek, gaze connecting, drawn down to his mouth, fingers slipping to pull at his lips, a teasing touch of his tongue, a painful breath, "I need you - Alive."

Steve offered no struggle, a returned intense watching, "Not gonna kill me."

Frustration chased across Bucky's face, "Fine. When they kill you, I will have to kill them. But I won't stop there. I'll kill everyone around them, the guards, the staff." A trembling pat of Steve's chest, voice shaking, "Then I'll kill their families, mother, father, children. Fuck, I'll even kill the god damned dog." Tremors shook across his body, anger flaring, "Do you get that?" A hard stroke of Steve's hair, pushing his head to the wall, "Can you get that into your lily-white view of the world. If you die because of me, I will take my vengeance out on everyone who ever came in contact with them." Eyes intense, wide and disconnected, "Until they kill me." Words pressing to Steve's cheek, clenched jaw, tension radating heat to Steve's body, "I am a hard kill, Rogers. It will be a bloody and long crusade. I am a very hard kill."

Steve grabbed Bucky's waist, the roll to flip their positions pinning his hips, a hand caught his throat, fingers sliding down his skin, breath close, weight heavy, "You're done? My turn. I am not letting you leave this room without giving your word."

Bucky pulled in a panted breath, fighting against the pull of Steve's body pressed to his own, a groan when his knee pushed between his legs, forcing them open, "You want to do this. You really want to throw down with me over this. Here and now." Bucky's hand wrapped around Steve's wrist.

Steve muttered, "I will if I have to, but I'm really hoping you don't have it in you to hit me."

Bucky's smirk more sarcastic than amused, "You love this move don't you Rogers. Get real close, your hand on my throat, dragging your fingers on my skin. You like that knee right there too, pressed up against my cock. Push harder." He grabbed Steve's knee and tugged to drive it up into his balls, "There that's better, really force yourself on me." He rasped into Steve's cheek, "Tough little shit from Brooklyn, big enough to really throw your weight around now. Still kicking them in the balls."

Steve shot back, "No, not like that. Maybe I'm hoping you'll want to make love and not fight." His words defensive but Bucky saw the tell of his uncertainty, eyes darting right and back. He knew the look too well.

Bucky's head dropped back against the wall, "No. You already know what you do to me. How you make me feel. How I'll do anything for you, for your touch. You're using this to get what you want. That's called manipulation Rogers. Not winning, not persuasion, not - anything else."

Steve's grip loosened, a clearing step back, hands falling from Bucky's body, gaze taking in the anger on Bucky's face, his eyes full of pain, different than anything he'd seen since being reunited. Unclear of what he was seeing. Regret eating away at his gut.

Bucky shook his head, back still pressed to the wall, "Fuck. Fine. I give you my word."

Steve stuttered, "What? That you'll do what?"

A flat affect, clear statement, eyes direct, empty and guarded, "I give you my word that I won't go alone. Happy now."

Steve stood watching him, "Yes. I am." Guilt roared up from his gut, anxiety wrenching down in his chest, his breath catching short, thoughts raced at what more to say, how to undo the past hours, an inspiration to say something more interrupted.

"Cap, we really need to talk." Sam's call from the bottom of the stairs loud enough not to ignore.

Steve pulled his eyes from Bucky's accusing stare, hand on the doorknob he spoke without turning around, "For the record, I'm sorry. I am doing what needs to be done to keep you safe. I hope you can see that. Please come downstairs."

"Yup. Right behind you." The terse faux cheeriness said volumes as Steve left the room.

Bucky's breathing staggered, gasping pulls to find air, a desperate fight to hold onto a sob, a wildly out of place hiccup sent an uncontrolled laugh through his body, he fell on his hands and knees. "Oh god, oh god. Okay, pull it together." Panted self-talk as he crawled to the bed, fisting hands into the sheets, head down attempt to thwart the spining room, fighting for emotional control. A whispered reassurance, "Okay, we can do this, I'm good." A reach for Steve's sweater, squatting on his haunches, face buried in his scent, breathing deep and hungry pulling him in, a thought to leave it behind aborted, he tugged it over his head.

Fingers pushing aside streaming wetness on his cheeks, clearing his eyes a stumbled move to the closet, rummaging through the bottom he pulled the backpack from the corner. The newly empty space shedding light on silver metal, a hesitant pause, his hand pulled it free. Fingers ran careful along the hard rounded edge, eyes taking in the silver outer ring, the centered red star, the weight not familiar enough. Chest tight with guilt, the shaking sob returning, a fight to quiet the overwhelming shame, convinced he was undeserving of the gift. Echoes of Steve's insistence in Boston, handing off the new shield, T'Challa's creation at Steve's request, the red star telling the story. The shield was meant for Bucky. A careful pull of the bedspread to cover sex-stained sheets, he laid the shield on their bed.

"You never deserved that shield."

"Couldn't agree more," His decisive response, as a hand caressed the metal. A turn to grab the backpack, he stuffed it with three T-shirts, six mis-matched socks and dragged his arm across the bureau top to shove the pill bottles inside.

"You don't need those, Soldat. You have me. They will only slow you down."

A glance up at his reflection in the mirror, hard fought to keep his eyes on his image, a struggle that shame won most often; tear stained cheeks, thick hair disheveled, far past his shoulders, Steve's sweater wrapped loose, hanging over fingers, neck off-centered, comforting and familiar. A few seconds of acceptance, morphing to anger, metal fist slamming his mirror face, the self-loathing winning out, "Shut the fuck up."

Racing thoughts sent fire through his head, a jacket pulled from the closet, a go-bag dragged from under the bed, Steve's well-meaning words echoing, "I'm doing what needs to be done to keep you safe." A muttered rebuttal as he crossed to the open window, "So am I, jerk, so am I."