This is something I started writing around the time of Age of Ultron/Civil War coming out. Remember that time, when there was light and hope and no one ever stayed dead in the MCU? *dramatically wipes away a tear*

I saw this on Pinterest and decided to flesh it out a liiitle bit, hope you guys enjoy!

Bucky sat bolt upright, drenched in sweat and panting. He had seen yet another victim of his abilities come back to him in dreams. This one was particularly bad, as it was one he hadn't remembered before. Usually, if he had already had the flashback before, the details were less vivid and he wasn't as panicked waking up. Unfortunately for him, this was one of the bad ones.

He buried his head in his hands, taking deep breaths to try to calm himself down.

"Buck?"

His head snapped up. He had hoped he hadn't woken Steve up this time.

Steve was sitting at the edge of his own bed, hair still tousled from sleep. "Sorry for waking you," Bucky mumbled for what seemed to him to be the one millionth time.

"Don't worry about it, pal," Steve assured him. Over the past few weeks of Bucky staying at the Tower, his relationship with Steve had gradually improved. At first, they both were nervous of each other, both afraid to over step the boundaries, though neither of them knew exactly what the boundaries were. It was quite awkward, to say the least. But when Bucky's nightmares started getting really bad, he stopped going to bed. He would go down to the gym, where, unknown to him, another Avenger also went when he couldn't sleep. He and Steve began to spar each other on a regular basis, until Steve actually realised what was going on. He gave Bucky the offer of bunking with him, on his floor, and though he immediately refused at first, Steve eventually brought him around.

At first Bucky was determined not to go to sleep, he was afraid of Steve hearing him and what Steve would think of him. But at this stage he had already been awake for two and a half weeks, and on his second night, unwillingly surrendered to sleep. That night he had one of the worst nightmares he had ever had, and he woke up screaming, still able to feel the pain of the brain wiping machines banging around in his head like a hammer.

Steve had woken long before Bucky had that night, to the sound of his cries, not his screaming. He heard him crying out for help, for mercy, and eventually for Steve himself. He broke Bucky's door down and was sitting on the edge of Bucky's bed when he woke. He was there to comfort him and to calm him down. He didn't ask questions about what Bucky had seen, and he didn't tell anyone else what Bucky was going through. He was just there, and that was all Bucky needed.

Once Steve moved into Bucky's room, this new routine developed, and it was the same story nearly every night.

"Was it bad?"

Bucky nodded slowly. "I saw a little girl. She was a threat. I had to-" he cut himself off and swallowed hard.

Steve moved off his own bed and sat next to Bucky on his. He put his hand on his shoulder, and Bucky, for once, didn't flinch from the contact. "I'm sorry, Buck."

"It's not your fault, punk."

Steve grinned unwillingly. "It's been a while since you called me that."

"It's been a while since we've shared a room."

"I seem to recall you being a lot messier," Steve observed, glancing around the spotless room.

"Grew out of it, I guess." Bucky's jaw clenched, and Steve put his arm around him in comfort, recalling all the times Bucky had done the same thing for him.

Bucky looked exhausted. There were dark bruises under his eyes, and his shoulders were slumped forward, almost in defeat. "I just don't see an end, Steve," he mumbled.

Steve's grip on his shoulder tightened, and he swallowed hard. "It's going to take time, Buck. I had nightmares for months after I woke up, and what I went through was nothing like what you did."

Bucky slowly nodded. "I'm going to try to sleep some more," he said after a while. Steve nodded and quickly moved back to his own bed. "Thanks."

"No problem, jerk," Steve replied.

Bucky chuckled and turned onto his side, keeping his eyes wide open, his smile slipping from his face nearly as quickly as it came.

Steve rubbed his chin thoughtfully, staring into space. He needed to come up with some way to stop, or at least alleviate, the pain that Bucky was feeling. He took out his Starkphone and googled "ways to deal with PTSD" and several options came up. He stayed looking until the early hours of the morning, when he had finally made a decision. He rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes as he heard Bucky 'stir,' not knowing that Bucky hadn't slept at all either.

"Morning," Steve said cheerily.

"Morning punk," Bucky grunted in response.

They both made their beds with the same manic precision that had been drilled into them from their army days, a lifetime ago for both of them. "Do you want to go eat with the team?" Steve asked, like he did every morning.

Bucky bit his lip and looked at the ground. "That's okay," Steve said hurriedly, "I must just ask Tony something real quick, do you want to get started without me?"

"I'll wait," came the response.

"I won't be long." Steve hurried into the elevator. "Where's Tony, Friday?"

"In the laboratory, sir. Will I inform him of your impending arrival?"

"Yes please. Thank you, Friday," and with a small beep the AI signed off.

Steve began to pace inside the elevator. Was he doing the right thing, telling Tony what he wanted to do? He knew Stark's feelings towards Bucky, he HAD killed his parents, but Steve had repeatedly told Tony that those were the actions of the Winter Solider, not Bucky Barnes. Tony, unfortunately, saw them as one and the same person.

He opened his mouth to tell Friday to take the elevator back up to his own floor, when it dinged open. Well, I've come this far, Steve thought to himself. More than anything else, he needed advice, and he knew that Tony had experience with PTSD possibly more than any other member of the Avengers.

The lab doors automatically opened to let him through. "Capsicle!" Tony called sarcastically, not looking up from the suit he was working on. "I was beginning to think we would never see your face again!"

"Bucky needs me," Steve said immediately, and wished he could have found another way to phrase what had just escaped his lips as a hurt look flashed across Tony's face. "You have more friends than him, Steve."

"I know, I just-" Steve took a deep breath. "I need to ask you something."

Tony sighed and leaned back in his chair, twirling his spanner through his fingers, and met Steve's eyes. "Shoot."

"If I brought a dog into the Tower, would that be alright with you?"

Tony raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, sure it would. You didn't need to ask my permission though. This is your home too."

"I didn't want to presume that you'd be alright with it. Especially since it's for Bucky."

"What does he want a dog for?" A hostile undertone had crept its way into Tony's voice.

"I was looking up the best ways to cure PTSD on the Internet last night, and several websites said that getting some sort of pet can help. And since Bucky always had a fondness of dogs...," Steve trailed off. "I thought it might help him, that's all."

Tony rubbed his eyes tiredly with the heels of his hands. His eyes met Steve's again. "If you think that will help him, then do. I mightn't like him, but I wouldn't wish this on anyone." He turned back to his bench. "If that's all, Cap."

Steve didn't move towards the door, instead he leaned against one of the other benches and folded his arms. "Tony."

Tony turned to face him again. "What?"

"How are you doing?"

He gave the time warped super soldier a tired smile. "I'm alright Capsicle. You?"

He gave Tony the same lie Tony had just given him. "Alright, I suppose."

"You're a terrible liar, Rogers."

"You're not much better, Stark."

Tony kept his gaze trained on the ground. "Since Sokovia, and the Accords... it's just been a lot. It was my fault that those people died," he burst out suddenly.

"If we hadn't stopped Ultron when we did, we wouldn't be talking right now," Steve assured him, knowing exactly where Tony's thoughts were taking him.

"If I hadn't created him in the first place, hundreds of people would still be alive!" He half shouted, before taking a breath. "That's on me, Cap."

"You thought you were doing the right thing, Tony. You were trying to protect us all, don't blame yourself for caring about us," Steve said quietly, remembering what Tony had told him about what Wanda showed him in her vision. "Sometimes saving the world doesn't translate to saving everybody, and we need to find a way to live with that. You care, Tony, you care a lot, and that's what counts."

Tony laughed bitterly. "Have you ever said a bad word about anyone?"

"Only about people who deserved it."

Tony just shook his head. "Sometimes I worry about your judgement calls, buddy."

It was Steve's turn to laugh. "You don't know how many times Bucky's said that to me."

"Maybe we're not so different," Tony remarked half heartedly, giving his spanner a last twirl before gripping it in his hand.

"Maybe you should get a dog too, Tony."

Tony laughed again, but this time it wasn't bitter. "Tinkering is therapy enough for me, thanks Cap. Besides, I think Pepper would actually kill me, I'd probably forget to feed it or something."

Steve laughed with him. "I guess I'd better get back."

Tony sighed. "See ya, Cap." He paused, seeming to come to a decision. "Tell your one armed assassin that he can come off your floor sometime, it's not a prison. Maybe we can all eat dinner together or something. I think Thor is bringing Jane and Darcy over tomorrow, and Pepper's flying in tonight."

Steve stopped half way out the door, surprised at Tony's attempt to make peace. "Yeah, I think he'd like that. Thanks, Tony."

Tony nodded gruffly and turned back to his work.