Harper: James, I'm really sorry to do this so last minute, but I can't go out tonight.
James: Everything okay?
Harper: I think I'm about to start another cluster cycle.
James: Shit, I'm sorry, doll. Can I come over, or would you rather be alone?
Harper: You can come over. I'm really sorry.
James: You don't need to be sorry. I'll pick up some food and be over shortly. Any preferences?
Harper: Something comforting that, on a good day, would make me fucking hate myself for eating it.
James: Got it.
Bucky arrived at Harper's apartment half an hour later, a couple takeout bags in hand. He knocked gently on the apartment door before letting himself in and moving into the living space. Aslan lay curled in a ball in the armchair, big green eyes watching Harper's erratic pacing. A wad of tissues was clutched to the right side of her face and she was crying steadily.
The former soldier approached silently, settling the bags on the coffee table before moving to the bathroom. He gathered several tissues and returned to the living room. He placed a hand lightly on her left shoulder, careful to avoid touching anything on her upper right side, and gently eased the tissues from her face. Her red, swollen eye came into view, dripping tears. She sniffled immediately, and a particularly loud sob parted her lips.
"Shh, doll, it's okay," he whispered, swapping out the damp tissues with the clean ones he had brought her. She reached up to replace his hand with hers, pressing her clenched fist roughly against her eye.
"I can't fucking take this," she sobbed, head bowing and shoulders shaking.
Bucky's chest tightened painfully. He gingerly led Harper over to the couch. She dropped to it, rocking back and forth. He sat beside her, offering her his flesh hand. The young woman took it, gripping it with a strength that surprised him. "Harper, you'll be okay. You're going to get through this."
"I just want it to end," she wept.
"I know, darlin', I know," he cooed.
They went on this way for about twenty minutes before her sobs began to cease and her body stopped rocking. Bucky kept up his string of nonsensical comforts, speaking lightly still. Exhausted, Harper let her arm drop, taking the tissues from her eye. Cautiously, not at all confidently, Bucky lifted his metal hand, flattening it against the right side of her face.
Harper moaned immediately, startling him. He drew his hand back and she protested, "Wait! Please do that again."
He acquiesced, pressing the metal to her flushed skin. His bionic arm wasn't cold per say, but it was always a few degrees cooler than the rest of his body. Technology could only counteract the natural properties of metal to a certain extent, after all.
They sat like that for several minutes before Harper's eyes began to scrunch again and tears began leaking from beneath her eyelids. He pulled away and asked, "Am I hurting you?"
"No, I'm just really sorry I ruined tonight," she managed through the renewed sobs. "I'm sorry we can't just go out on a date whenever like normal people. Instead, you're stuck here watching me cry."
"You didn't ruin anything," he assured firmly. "We can go on dates whenever. Any time I spend with you is time worth spending."
"But I wanted to go on a date tonight. I want to be normal. I don't want to deal with this pain anymore," she moaned, dropping her head to her hands.
"I know, doll," Bucky muttered, rubbing slow circles on her back. "This isn't fair. You don't deserve this pain, and it shouldn't be something you have to live with. You're so strong, and so brave."
In a small voice, she replied meekly, "I don't feel strong."
He gently placed the back of his metal hand over the right side of her face, offering her its cool relief. "Maybe you don't feel it right now, but you don't always have to. I'm here for you when you don't."
"I'm glad," she muttered, eyes fluttering closed.
Bucky gently brushed his thumb into the raw, tearstained skin below her right eye. "Any better?"
"Yeah," Harper breathed, a few more tears leaking from her eyes. "Thank you."
The former soldier lifted his other hand, reverently cradling her face between both palms. He leaned in slowly, allowing her time to pull away if she needed to, before placing a tender kiss on her lips. It was brief, as Bucky remained mindful of the sensitivity in her face. He skimmed the tip of his nose across hers for a moment before asking, "Want to eat a little bit and then head to bed? I brought gyro fries and chicken wings."
Harper let out a moan of delight. "You're seriously my fucking hero, James."
"I'm no such thing, but thanks for saying so," he grinned wryly.
"Let me go wash my face, and I'll be right back," Harper said, rising from the couch.
Bucky watched her go, noting for the first time what she was wearing. Tight, grey cotton shorts were barely visible beneath an oversized, long sleeved black t-shirt, lending him a generous view of her pale, curvy legs. Blue eyes admired the expanse of skin, looking away once she disappeared into the bathroom. His gaze fell instead on the old cat still seated in the armchair, which was currently levelling him with a glare that somehow seemed highly disapproving. The two were locked in a staring match for several moments before Bucky looked away uncomfortably. Harper returned shortly after, and upon retaking her seat on the couch, the fluffy orange creature jumped down from his perch, hastening to Harper's feet and hopping up into her lap. Her hand absently buried itself in the thick fur.
"I didn't realize cats were territorial with their humans," Bucky commented, setting about unpacking the food he had brought.
"They can get pretty jealous," Harper replied, looking down at the feline fondly. "And this guy has some attachment issues, so it's probably even harder for him. I should have you start feeding him when you're over here so that he associates you with food. That should help you grow on him."
"As long as he doesn't come after me for being close to you," Bucky said warily.
"Buck up, ya big baby," Harper teased with a small smirk.
Bucky chuckled, glad to have a small indication that Harper was feeling a bit better.
"Shh, last one today, doll."
A shaky, heart-wrenching sob was the response Bucky received. He pecked Harper's temple and tightened his arms around her. They were sitting up in her bed, her last headache of the day having wrenched them both from sleep right on cue, about two hours after having retired to her room. She was about twenty minutes into the attack, and two weeks into the cycle. She was rocking back and forth in his arms, face buried in her hands as she whimpered and sobbed.
"It's okay, darlin', you're almost done."
This cycle was a bit different than the last he had seen. Instead of three headaches a day, she was only having two, and they were only about 45 minutes long. However, the attacks themselves seemed more severe in the level of pain. It had been incredibly alarming the first time he had seen her repeatedly thrust her fist to her temple as a desperate means of alleviating the pain. Over the course of the cycle thus far, Bucky had watched her fatigue more and more, her skin becoming pale and dull, and dark, puffy circles forming beneath her eyes.
He had also seen her struggle to balance the condition with other, necessary parts of her life. When she was in a cycle, she was forced to cram in as many work appointments as possible in the mornings, work through her lunch breaks to get through phone calls, and break for the late afternoon-early evening for the first headache. She would then work late into the night on her documentation to make up for the missed afternoons, falling asleep absolutely exhausted and knowing she'd be awake again in just a couple hours for the worst attack of the day. After getting through that, she would sleep for a few more hours and then have to get up and do it all again. Weekends were no reprieve. Saturday mornings had to be spent on any necessary errands and grocery shopping before the rest of the day's headaches and a desperate attempt to catch up on sleep. Sunday mornings were for bulk meal prep, so that she would have food to eat through the week when she had no time to make foods as she would need them. It left her apartment and laundry essentially unattended to, a fact that she expressed a deep embarrassment about. Bucky couldn't blame her for the undone chores. He could see that she was running on empty; how could he expect her to tackle a hamper full of laundry instead of trying to get some sleep in?
He had taken to doing the dishes and cleaning Aslan's litter box whenever he came over, which at first did not go over well. They had talked it out, and Bucky had a feeling he had only succeeded in calming her down because she was so tired. Either way, he was happy to do a couple small things that would make her days even just a bit easier.
Bucky had also come to realize how glad he was that Harper had her cat. He had now witnessed numerous times how the large animal was always nearby during an attack, approaching her quietly once they were done to lie in her lap or to stretch out against her. She would stroke the feline with shaking fingers, absorbing his warmth and feeling the softness of his thick fur. Bucky couldn't help but conclude that the cat was an enormous, grounding comfort after the excruciating, burning pain of the headaches. He was glad that she wasn't alone to grapple with the pain when he wasn't there.
"Fuck, James," she moaned through her tears.
"You've got this, Harper," he assured. "You're so, so strong, doll. It's almost over."
Finally, the last stretch of the attack passed, and Harper sagged against him. He supported her effortlessly, but noted the total exhaustion gripping her form. He had so much respect for her strength and perseverance to have been living through these cycles for years, somehow making her life work around them. She had, at minimum, another week of headaches coming up, if not two. Her physical and mental reserves seemed entirely depleted, but he knew she would push through and get by. That she'd been doing just that for six years already.
"I wish it were all really over," she muttered into his collarbone. "I can't take this."
"I know, doll," he soothed, running his fingers through her hair. "You're doin' so good."
"I'm only twenty-five. I have maybe sixty more years of this. I can't do that!" she replied, voice rising into a desperate wail. The tears came again and Bucky held her tighter. Perhaps Harper had really held back in the first cycle he had seen, but this one seemed to be taking a much greater toll on her mental health.
He gently grasped her shoulders, encouraging her to lean back. Gingerly, his thumbs stemmed the flow of tears from her eyes and swiped the moisture from her cheeks. Her lower lip trembled with her efforts to hold back more. With that done, Bucky gently pressed his metal hand to the right side of her face. His heart swelled as her eyes fluttered closed with relief. She had told him after the first time he had tried this how good it had felt. The headaches themselves she described as having a white hot poker thrust into her temple and held there for the entire duration of the attack. His metal hand ran a few degrees cooler than the rest of his body, making it a source of relief from the burning pain without being so cold as to be uncomfortable thanks to her heightened sensitivity. It worked again now, and he held his hand there until he was sure that her skin had warmed the metal beyond the point where it could provide any further relief.
"C'mon, Harper," he whispered gently. "Get some sleep. Everything will be okay."
"Okay," she mumbled, clearly barely holding sleep off already. She fell back into the pillows, and Bucky followed, gathering her in his arms again. He threw the comforter over them, mindful of the cat at her feet.
The former soldier placed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Pancakes in the morning?"
"Yeah," she agreed sleepily. Bright brown eyes gazed at him blearily. "Thank you."
It didn't escape him that she was referring to more than just the offer of breakfast food. Blue eyes remained on hers and he replied earnestly, "I've got you."
Three weeks of headaches had passed without reaching the end of the cycle. Bucky was finding it more and more difficult not to spend each evening with Harper. Perhaps it was his 1920s and 30s upbringing, but it didn't sit well with him that he wasn't taking care of his girl when she was unwell. He wanted to be her protector, to dote on her. Of course, he refrained, knowing that even at her lowest that would only make Harper feel even worse. It wasn't often that he felt any sort of struggle to grapple with his own, much different background from hers, and honestly, he was glad Harper was a woman of fierce independence, but it was hard to adjust all the same.
"Can't I just sleep here for a little bit?" Harper asked from beneath his arm.
"No more headaches tonight, so if you go to bed now, you can just sleep the whole night through," he reasoned. "And you won't kick yourself in the morning for letting this couch give you a sore back."
"I'll be fine," she argued weakly, turning to more comfortably rest her head on his shoulder.
Bucky chuckled and rubbed his hand up and down her upper arm. "Harper, one last push for the day."
"Nope, I'm done today, thank you," she laughed lightly. "Please try again tomorrow during business hours."
"You're stubborn."
"Whatever helps a girl get by," replied Harper dismissively.
Bucky pulled away and instructed, "Put your arms around my neck."
"Huh?"
"Put your arms around my neck," he repeated smoothly.
Harper blinked at him sleepily, but didn't argue. She coiled her arms loosely around his neck, and Bucky swiftly maneuvered his hands beneath her thighs, pulling her into his lap briefly before standing. Her eyes widened, and she immediately protested, "Wait, you don't have to carry me!"
"I'm solving the stubbornness problem."
"You can put me down," she insisted. Deep pink coloring her cheeks, she said, "I'm not light."
"Harper, believe me when I say that I don't feel at all strained. Remember that time I ran up the stairs with you on my back?" he asked, walking toward her bedroom. With a sly smirk, he asked, "And maybe I just want you wrapped around me?"
The pink deepened to crimson, leaving no doubt that she understood the dual meaning. "Well, that's filthy, James."
"You aren't the only one who can crack a crude joke," he replied. His knees hit the edge of her bed and he set her gently down on the mattress.
"It would seem that way," she chuckled.
"Scoot your pretty butt over," he requested playfully.
Harper scoffed but acquiesced, moving over to the far side of the bed. Bucky slid in beside her before pulling the comforter over them. Harper turned onto her side to face him and he mimicked her position. He rested a hand on her hip, squeezing gently before allowing his palm to run up and down the side of her thigh, exposed by her cotton shorts. Her skin was soft and warm, her thigh deliciously curvy.
"I'll admit that this is more comfortable," she muttered, eyes falling closed as exhaustion tempted her toward slumber.
"Told you," he responded without malice.
"Thank you again, James, seriously. This isn't how I want things to be."
"You don't need to thank me, doll," he assured. "There's a whole lotta things I'd do for you that are way worse than this. I'm just sorry that you have to go through all this pain."
The dark haired woman gently shoved at his shoulder. "Shush; you're too nice."
"It's not about being nice," Bucky corrected. "It's about doin' right by my girl."
Brown eyes opened to meet his. She asked, "Your girl?"
Bucky cursed lowly for allowing the slip. Timidly, he admitted, "Well, I guess nothing is technically... When I asked you to dinner a couple weeks ago, I was gonna ask you if we could make things official. I think we're both on the same page that we're not seeing other people, but I have serious feelings for you, Harper."
"Well, you could ask me now," she suggested.
He grimaced. "I wanted to do things a little more properly than to ask you while we were in your bed."
"I don't much concern myself with being proper."
"I know," the former soldier smiled fondly. Resolve hardening and expression turning more serious, he asked, "Harper, could we make things official?"
"As in, I would be able to call you my boyfriend?" she asked with a playful grin.
"Definitely."
"Then, yes, I'd like that," Harper nodded, eyes bright for the first time in weeks. "Very much."
"Should we seal the deal then?"
At another nod, Bucky leaned down, placing his lips atop hers gently. It was a sweet, warm kiss which tightened his chest in a pleasant way. Pulling back, he lifted his hand to cup her cheek, his thumb caressing her lips tenderly. The former assassin placed another soft kiss to her lips before breathing, "Good night, Harper."
"Good night, James."
A/N; Many thanks for the continued support, follows, favorites, etc. If you have the time, I'd love any feedback you could provide.