Chapter Title: A Day and a Night
Author: Sam
Story: The Omega Trials: 22 of ?
Series: The Omega Rights (part two)
WARNING: post traumatic; dealing with trauma
Setting: AU: November 4, 1943; Azzano, Italy and and London, England
xxx
Translations:
Steve, grá agam duit - Steve, I love you - Irish Gaelic
Cariad - Love - Welsh
xxx
Setting: AU: Thursday, November 4, 1943: Azzano, Italy
When Steve awoke in the morning, Bucky lay beside him, sleeping, pale and exhausted, back to his lover and face to the tent's closed flap across the canvas room.
Reaching over with a slow, steady hand, Steve ran his fingers down Bucky's back like he'd done so many times before. The blond stared at his lover, drinking in the sight of the brunet safe and alive.
The man under his hand stiffened, waking immediately at the touch, eyes widening in anticipated horror. He never make a sound, not even his dissociative chanting, trying to figure out where he was. All he could see was the neat, rather orderly interior of a military tent, a reasonably comfortable cot lay below him, but someone held him, touching him.
Steve, seeing his husband stiffen, wrenched his hand away and cooed gently, "Buck? Bucky it's just me . . . it's Steve."
At the familiar, beloved voice, Bucky drew a deep breath and relaxed his muscles. He carefully turned over, not dislodging Steve's arms, and offered a small smile. Very quietly, in Steve's mother's language, Bucky breathed, "Steve, grá agam duit." He pressed his face into the blond's wide, muscular chest. Bucky breathed the ever sweet scent of his husband, feeling his initial fears ease.
Lifting his left hand, Bucky placed it on one of Steve's now large pectorals. With a slightly nervous laugh, the brunet said, still softly, "what the hell happened to my Stevie? You're huge, Cariad." Bucky's voice sounded more awed than anything else. The three days of marching, followed by the arrival at base the day before, were more a confused blur to the finally rescued soldier.
Releasing a nervous, sheepish laugh, Steve felt himself blush and he pressed his lips to Bucky's forehead, "I'm still your Stevie, baby. I'll always be yours." Steve felt a twinge of fear ice over his heart, what if Bucky didn't like his husband's new body? Was he upset that Steve never wrote to tell him what had been going on, what the blond had been doing?
"We need to talk, punk," Bucky chuckled, stroking his fingers lightly over Steve's chest, very aware that at any time someone might come and interrupt the pair.
"Yeah, I know . . . I'm really sorry that I never wrote you . . . they wouldn't let me say anything about the serum. I wanted to tell you . . . honest I did." Steve murmured; he didn't want Bucky to be upset at him.
"Never wrote?" the brunet latched onto the very first words. "I got letters, so, yeah, Steve, you wrote." He stroked again. "And I know all about military secrets, so, yeah, I understand about that, too." He listened carefully but heard nothing in the dawning light. Carefully, he brushed his lips over Steve's. "So, you still can't tell me, even though I can see the results?"
"I can tell you now . . . you're my next of kin, Buck." Steve brushed a stray lock of hair from Bucky's face and took in all the details of his husband's face: a face he'd missed so much.
"Damn right I am," Bucky said, a faint pride in his voice. "And you're a hero. You're my hero." He traced another faint kiss on his husband's mouth.
"I ain't a hero, Buck," Steve said softly, he honestly didn't feel like a hero. He got lucky . . . really, really lucky.
Shaking his head, Bucky chuckled. "So, you telling me that the Army planned to send in people to pull us out and you got seperated from them? Or that Command ordered you to single-handedly run into the base and face a whole factory of Hydra fanatics?"
"I needed to make sure you were alive, Bucky. They were gonna leave you all . . . I couldn't let that happen," the Captain whispered.
"Ah, I get it. Idiot, rebel, and fucking amazing hero," Bucky grinned and kissed Steve's neck, right over his bite scar.
Steve bit down hard on his bottom lip to stop the groan of pure bliss and pleasure. His arm immediately wrapped Bucky's waist, pulling the brunet closer to his body. Steve missed his husband's lips . . . God, he'd missed them so much.
At the stronger grip, Bucky stiffened and pulled back, catching his breath in a rise of fear. Shaking his head, the brunet forced his own body to relax, trying to get over the panic attack. With a slight whimper, meeting Steve's eyes, Bucky whispered, "sorry . . . I . . ."
With a small nod, Steve sat up and shifted away from Bucky, "it's alright, Buck. It ain't your fault." The blond swallowed hard and looked away. Would Bucky ever be able to be intimate again? Would Steve ever be able to hold the brunet tight in his arms?
A flush swept Bucky's cheeks and he lowered his eyes, sitting up and slipping from the bed, his uniform rumpled from sleeping fully dressed. He felt disgust at himself well up: at his own stupid panic as well as his disgusting body. He couldn't blame anyone if they couldn't face him. What man lets himself get raped? Slowly, the soldier began pulling out his other uniform so he could change.
"Bucky," Steve called out quietly from where he still sat on the edge of the cot.
"Yeah, Stevie?" he answered softly, unbuttoning his shirt.
"I - - I don't know how to help you . . . I keep doing or saying the wrong thing . . . I'm sorry." Steve shook his head and let his eyes fall; he'd failed Bucky. Failed to get him in time . . . failed to comfort his obviously hurting husband.
Frowning, the light eyed man turned his head to look over his lover. "I'm getting better. Almost completely healed. I'll be fine," he tried to reassure Steve.
"No, Buck, you can lie to all the other guys . . . but don't lie to me," Steve said gently. but his tone was firm as he lifted his eyes to look up at Bucky.
"Lie?" Bucky asked softly, eyes narrowing. "I'm not lying, Steve. I know it's hard to believe, but whatever shit that mad scientist shot into me seems to have made me heal faster. Don't know what else it did, though."
"I'm not talkin' about your physical wounds, Buck," Steve stated.
Sinking onto the cot so his suddenly weak legs wouldn't give out and tumble him to the hard ground, Bucky lifted wounded, frightened eyes to his husband. "I . . . I tried to fight him, Stevie." He buried his face in his hands, shame welling with guilt and anger. "I even fucking begged like a fucking coward."
"You are not a coward, Bucky . . . you are the bravest man I know," Steve fought the urge to wrap his arms around the brunet . . . every time he'd touched Bucky the man would stiffen and panic. Steve didn't know what to do . . . the only thing he'd managed to do so far was make things worse.
Not arguing with Steve's familiar words, Bucky wiped at his eyes, frustrated at his continued weakness. Now he was crying? Bucky began to pull off the rumpled shirt before unbuckling his belt with angry self-loathing. "Okay, you're not a hero and I'm not a coward," he said bitterly, not really meaning the self-defensive self-attack.
"Buck . . ." Steve's heart ached, "Bucky, please . . . I'm sorry . . ." the blond didn't know what else to say; he wished they were back at their apartment, that this damn war had never happened, and that things could be like how they used to be. Steve would give up his new body in a heartbeat if it meant that Bucky would've never gone through this. "I'm sorry . . ." Steve repeated softly.
"Can you stop apologizing for something you didn't do?" Bucky asked, frustrated. He stood and strode to his lover. "Look, I'll figure things out. We'll . . . together we can figure this out, okay?" He didn't know how that could happen, but Bucky didn't want to push away the man he loved, even if he felt like Steve might do better without such a weak coward as Bucky had proven.
Giving Bucky a small, weak smile, Steve nodded slowly and echoed, "together."
"Together," Bucky repeated then nodded. "Yeah, always together, Stevie. You and me." He offered a smile. Maybe . . . just maybe they really could figure this out. Bucky didn't deserve Steve, but if Steve wanted him, Bucky would take what he could get. Finally the brunet stripped off the rumpled trousers and exchanged them for the others.
Figuring a change in subject might be for the best, Steve cleared his throat and started with, "Doctor Erskine is the man that let me in the Army. I got accepted at the Expo."
Blinking, thinking back to that last night at home, Bucky let out a small humorless laugh. "Should've known that's what took so long." He pulled socks from his duffle and began pulling them on with a sigh near to ecstasy at the soft, warm feeling after so long in bare feet or just boots.
"I went to bootcamp the very same day you shipped off . . . that was the reason I couldn't go with you to the train station. I would've missed my ride . . . I wanted to see you off . . . I did . . . I just didn't have enough time."
"So, even that far back, you were sworn to secrecy, Cariad?" Bucky shook his head. "Fucking military."
Cringing, Steve hung his head and looked down at his hands, "No, Buck, I wasn't sworn into anything yet. I didn't want to upset you . . . I didn't want to ruin our last night together."
Thinking over that, Bucky let out a sharp, surprised laugh. "Ruin our night? My God, Steve, you are the stupidest punk I know!" He reached out without thinking to pull his husband over to him, pulling the big blond against his body. "I knew you wanted in and kept trying. If I'd have known you'd made it, I could have given you some tips and warnings and stuff. I'd have made love to you so many more times before I left if I'd known you might be sent into this crazy mess!" He shook his head and lay his face against Steve's shoulder. "I hoped and prayed you'd get refused every time so you could be safe at home, you stupid punk."
"I know . . . that's why I didn't tell you! I didn't want you to worry about me . . . you had enough going on, you didn't need worrying about your skinny, asthmatic husband in bootcamp on top of everything else." Steve loved being this close to his husband again, loved the small sense of normalcy this conversation was bringing back into their lives.
"Boot camp?" Bucky lifted his face to stare his lover directly in the eyes, on a level at last with the other man. "You think I'd have worried about you going into boot camp?" Letting out a laugh, Bucky shook his head. "My God, Steve, boot camp was a playground compared to this hellhole!"
"I wouldn't say it was a playground . . ." Steve grumbled, cheeks flushing as he remembered how much of a struggle each and every day had been.
"Right, and this place doesn't make it look like training and drills and endless punishment was a challenge?" Bucky shook his head. "So, this serum thing was after bootcamp . . . that's why you had trouble in basics?" Bucky's mind had always been quick.
"Oh yeah . . . they didn't give me the serum until they were very sure that I was the right . . . uh . . . subject?" Steve said.
"Test subject?" Bucky said. "Yeah, I actually got to meet Erskine. He had me tested for his Project Rebirth thing. I suppose I can tell you that now." Bucky grinned. "See, not the only one sworn to secrecy, Stevie."
"Erskine was a very good man," Steve offered solemnly.
"I told him about you. He seemed pretty interested. Must be proud at the results he got out of you." Bucky smiled, equally proud, stepping back a bit to glance over the gorgeous body made flesh that he had always imagined in his mind.
"He . . . uh . . . died, Bucky. Right after I came out of the chamber, there was so much going on . . . so many people and cameras going off," Steve shook his head, going back to that very chaotic moment, "somehow Hydra managed to get a guy in. Shot . . ."
"Wait . . ." Bucky froze, eyes widening then narrowing, "Hydra? Hydra got the fuck into New York? How far have these freaks penetrated?"
"They're everywhere, Bucky . . . if they could penetrate a top secret military research site, they are probably everywhere. These guys are like rats," Steve snarled, his anger and grief at losing a very kind man still very much present.
The brunet finally pulled Steve back against his body, huffing softly. "Well, every single one I've seen wears a many tentacled Hydra pin or patch or something. Like a stupid secret school club. Looks like a demented octopus."
Steve froze, his whole body stiffening and he took a few steps back, nearly stumbling. "Looks like an octopus or something?" the blond's voice came out breathless.
"Yeah," Bucky frowned, worried but letting his lover go. "Like a head with maybe six or so tentacles."
"Buck," Steve took a step closer and lowered his voice, "Doctor Keilmeyer had a pin just like that."
"Your health doctor? Wait," Bucky frowned. "You mean, the man who took care of you for ten years? The man who helped Erskine develop the Fertility Nature studies? That Keilmeyer?"
Steve shook his head, running his fingers through his short blond hair, "I don't understand . . . he was put into a work camp . . . if he had been Hydra - - why would they arrest their own man? Nothing about this makes any sense."
"Hydra isn't the same as the Nazis, Steve." Bucky strode across the small space then turned and paced back, looking frustrated but thoughtful. "The Hydras use the Nazis, but they don't share loyalty. Keilmeyer was recalled by Germany to report and then got thrown in that camp. Maybe Hydra recalled him but the Nazis arrested him? He was Jewish, Steve, and the Jews across Europe have been imprisoned all over the place."
"But . . . why would Keilmeyer work for people like Hydra? He was a good man . . . he helped me . . ." Steve felt his stomach churn; the thought that a man he'd once respected could have worked for the very same organization that had just tortured Bucky made him sick.
Thinking carefully, Bucky finally lowered his voice once more, to the same level he used when addressing their homosexuality, and stepped extremely close to his husband. "Steve, have you seen anything in our military you didn't agree with? Anything that was done that angered or upset you? Offended you?"
Furrowing his brows, Steve nodded, "Of course."
"Well, I get the feeling it's the same everywhere. It's highly possible Keilmeyer thought Hydra was good then discovered what they were really like. Maybe that's why he was hiding out in New York." Bucky rested his hand on the small of Steve's back, loosely, gently. "And, if Keilmeyer was Hydra . . . was Erskine Hydra, too?"
"Was being the key term . . . Erskine fled Germany after Schmidt forced him to give him the serum," Steve answered honestly; he didn't want to lie to Bucky anymore.
"God!" Bucky shuddered and cringed. "Your face ain't gonna melt off, is it? I love you with my whole being, Cariad, but I don't think I can kiss a fleshless skull."
Steve actually laughed quietly; he reached out and stroked his thumb across Bucky's cheekbone, "don't worry, baby. I don't think my face is gonna melt off. I don't know if I'd be able to live without your kisses."
With a nod and a small chuckle, Bucky promised, "well, I promise to kiss any bits that don't melt, then."
Steve's eyes flickered over to the entrance of the tent before looking back at Bucky; slowly, the blond stepped closer, his chest flush against his husband's. Steve pressed his lips against Bucky's with all the passion and love he felt.
Responding, Bucky cupped Steve's face and gladly returned his kisses, flicking his tongue tip over Steve's lips. The brunet didn't cringe or pull back at all, seeming totally into their exchange of love.
Parting his lips to deepen the kiss, Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky's waist, not as tight as he'd done earlier, and with his other hand ran his thumb over the bite mark on his husband's neck.
Bucky whimpered but remained pliant in his husband's arm. He let his tongue dance with Steve's, tasting and exploring that mouth he loved. The sensation across his scar sent a thrill through him, and Bucky whimpered again into Steve's mouth, his hips thrusting slightly before he forcibly controlled his own body. Bucky continued kissing however.
Steve broke the kiss, only to move down to lick and nip at the bite mark, wanting to taste Bucky's skin. "God, I love you," Steve rasped against the brunet's skin, teeth nipping gently at the scar.
A low moan escaped Bucky's lips and his eyes fluttered closed. He breathed, "I love you, Cariad, my heart . . . my soul." A faint scent of arousal emanated from Bucky's skin, muted but unmistakable.
Wanting nothing more than to make love with his husband, Steve forced himself to take a deep breath. Pulling away slightly, the blond rested his forehead against Bucky's as he tried to calm himself down. Steve ached for his lover, his body longed to be touched and he practically vibrated with want.
"God, Steve, I want you so much," Bucky revealed his inadvertent unity of thought to his husband. "But . . . can't risk it. Sun's up. Too many people."
"I know," Steve swallowed and stepped back, his pale skin flushed with desire, "I wish we were in our apartment . . . I wanna be alone with you, Buck."
"Yeah," the brunet agreed. "We gotta win this war so we can go home. Wanna explore these new changes. What else did this serum do for you?" Bucky ran a hand down Steve's cheek and continued over his pectoral.
"They said I'm no longer a Gamma? I guess the serum changed me to an Alpha." Steve shrugged slightly.
Bucky chuckled. "An Alpha, huh? Yeah, I can see you as a tough leader, snapping at the lesser dogs around you." With a shake of his head, the brunet continued in the same light manner, "so, guess that means they finally found their cure? You . . ." smile dropping, eyes widening, Bucky breathed, "you ain't sterile anymore?"
"No, they cured me of practically everything."
"Your heart . . . your lungs . . . and your balls?" Bucky shook his head in wonder, but slowly a new horror began to dawn. With the possibility of being able to produce children, Steve deserved a chance to make a family, carry on his name. "So . . . have you gotten any of those rumored Alpha urges to dominate and breed with someone?" Bucky made it sound like a joke, though his eyes held worry.
Steve's eyes searched Bucky's face, seeing the worry in his husband's eyes; the blond cupped his lover's face in one hand and stroked his thumb across the pale skin. "I love you and only you, Buck. I only want for you . . . I am your's and you are mine."
"Dum Dum asked me if we were gonna adopt," Bucky said softly, looking down at his hands as he entwined them with Steve's. He noted the wedding ring on his husband's right hand and fought tears, recalling his father.
"Dugan knows?" Steve asked softly, not dropping his hand.
"Yeah, he figured it out when we first met," Bucky sighed. "I was an idiot and must've given us away somehow. I've been very careful since."
After a few moments, Steve smiled softly, "we'd make pretty great parents, wouldn't we?" He'd always wanted children, but that dream had been crushed a long time ago. Now, Steve realized that he could produce kids, but he didn't want anyone but Bucky. Sadly, Steve knew they'd never be able to adopt . . . not without endangering both their lives and the lives of any children.
Fighting tears, Bucky nodded. "I would love to have kids with you, Cariad. You'd be a hell of a father."
Pressing his lips to Bucky's again, Steve said softly, "maybe in another life? One where people accept everyone for who they are . . . maybe then?"
Nodding, making the decision, Bucky offered Steve a small smile. He stroked his husband's strong hands. "Steve, if you want kids . . . well, I don't see how any dame would wanna just have a kid and give it up." He shook his head. "Guess that's a foolish thought." Bucky blew out a frustrated sigh.
Looking at Bucky intently, Steve said, "it ain't foolish. It's a wonderful thought . . . but it wouldn't be right . . . we couldn't have a child with just one of us. And since it's impossible for both of us to be the biological father . . . well, then I don't think either one of us should be."
Bucky nodded, but gave it one last shot. "Okay, but if you do find a dame willing to let you give her a kid then give it back . . . crazy, but . . . well, I'd be happy with any kid you made, Steve. I'd love it like my own." He stroked Steve's face, eyes following his husband's every expression.
"I know you would, Buck. I know." Steve sighed happily, dreaming of little feet running around - - Bucky and him taking the children out, tucking them into bed, reading them stories . . . loving them. "God, I wish it were possible . . ." the blond breathed, wanting those dreams to be a reality.
Drawing a slow, deep breath, Bucky said, "maybe after the war we can try to find a place that wouldn't hate us for adopting a kid?"
Leaning down to kiss Bucky again, Steve nodded and beamed happily, "I'd love that, Buck."
Whispering softly, Bucky said, "it might not be in the states?"
"You mean move overseas?" Steve asked, thinking the idea over.
"Yeah," the brunet said. "Not sure where, but . . . maybe somewhere."
"If it meant living out the rest of my life with you and our family . . . I'd move anywhere," Steve stated, his tone displaying all the love and affection he held for his lover.
Smiling back, Bucky bent to kiss the blond when a knock on the wood hanging outside Steve's tent interrupted them.
xxx
Setting: AU: Thursday, November 4, 1943: London, England
Colonel Phillips had agreed with the medics that the walking wounded needed some time to unwind so had authorized the group two days of leave in London. Thus, sitting at a small table, away from the released prisoners of war as they celebrated and drank and sang, Bucky sipped his cold beer, shaking his head softly. Normally, he would have been in the thick of that impromptu party. He still enjoyed the large gathering, the good aura and pleased scents, but Bucky felt like being on the fringe, still dealing with what he'd been through. As the sole survivor from the Isolation Ward, it seemed no one else could understand him, though the handful of men that had been in his cell tried.
Glancing over to the table around the large wooden beam, the young sergeant noted that only two of the men in that mixed group were from the 107th, like him. The others included an Army Ranger from California, a paratrooper from the British Army, a French Civilian from the resistance, and Steve Rogers, Bucky's best friend, lover, husband, and savior.
Shaking his head again as he listened to Steve try to convince those survivors to go back into the thick of things with limited resources, questionable intel, and almost non-existent backup reminded the brunet, yet again, how he'd warned Steve that soldiers might not want to fight after they've tasted the hell of war - - but that these men were probably insane enough to volunteer quite readily.
After all the men sitting around the table agreed to fight with him to eradicate Hydra, Steve stopped by the bar to get the men another round of beer and then walked into the other room to check on his husband.
"I told you," Bucky called softly from his table around the bend. "They're all insane."
Trying not to notice how the uniform Bucky wore - - a uniform that used to fit just right - - now hung loosely from his frame and the haunted look in those steely eyes, Steve smirked slightly and asked, "how about you? You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?" He sat down on the stool next to the brunet, fighting the urge to wrap his arm around those slender shoulders.
"Hell, no," Bucky grinned softly and glanced back. "That little guy from Brooklyn? Who was too dumb not to run from a fight? I'm following him." Bucky lifted his mug and sipped, watching Steve with the remnants of a smile.
Steve smiled softly in return, looking at his husband with all the love he felt towards the man.
"But you're keeping the uniform, right?" Bucky leered suggestively behind his beer. That stupid spangled outfit had fit Steve's frame almost like a glove, showing a hint of all the best bits.
"You know what?" Steve chuckled, looking at a poster of himself hanging on the opposite wall, "I think it's growing on me."
"Yeah? It's got me growing . . ." Bucky whispered.
As the guys around the corner began singing, some dropped off slowly until they all fell silent. Falsworth was the first to stare, followed by every other male in the room. Peggy Carter, dressing in an elegant knee-length red cocktail dress and strapped heels strode in among the all-male patrons of the pub. She smiled and walked directly over to Steve and Bucky, who stood immediately, politely.
"Good evening," he murmured, ever the gentleman. He checked her over out of habit, his eye for beauty not lost even though he was in a war and preferred a more masculine beauty.
Steve was about to reply with another, equally suggestive comment when Peggy strode into the room. Immediately rising to his feet, the blond gave the woman a respectful nod.
Almost absently Peggy offered a polite smile to Bucky and said, "good evening." She turned more fully to her friend, Steve. "Howard would like to talk to you about equipment in the morning."
"Of course," Steve smiled, eyes focused solely on Peggy. He hadn't seen her in civilian clothes before, especially anything as attractive as that red number.
Drawing his eyes from the Agent, the brunet let his gaze fall on his normally shy, tongue-tied husband. Shock coursed through Bucky and he lost his smile slightly. Steve was literally staring at the pretty dame, as if no one else was present in the universe. Worry and self-doubt coursed through the soldier and he forced a smile on his face, though inside he wondered if he'd already lost his beautiful lover. After all, Steve had said the scientists thought he was a full Alpha, which meant he would be inclined to breed and produce children, despite what he might say. Steve had been cured as was now 'top choice' in the survival of the fittest. Could Bucky really hold his love back from reaching full potential? Unsure if there had been any talking going on while he'd been lost in his thoughts, Bucky suddenly asked, "Are you here to dance?"
The woman never removed her eyes from the tall, muscular blond. "I might," her answer sounded flirtatious, playful.
"What's stopping you?" Bucky asked, not really offering but he wouldn't turn her down. Bucky loved dancing and figured Steve wouldn't begrudge him that small pleasure. But he needn't have worried.
Peggy continued to smile, her eyes locked on Steve. She murmured, "the right partner."
Steve smiled brightly at Peggy, knowing that the woman was talking about her lover, Lizette. He would love to live in a world where Peggy and Lizette or Bucky and himself could go out dancing without fear of being hurt or killed.
"Eight oh hundred, Captain," Agent Carter reminded Steve then walked away, back out of the club, as if it were perfectly normal to arrive dressed for dancing to deliver an appointment message.
"Yes, ma'am," Steve nodded with a playful smirk.
Bucky glanced after Peggy's retreating figure then back towards his beer on the table he stood by. His haunted eyes had rounded in shock. For the first time in his life, Bucky Barnes was not the center of a female's world. It wasn't painful per say, but it was certainly unexpected. Bucky had grown up thriving on female attention, and to have it shunted to his beloved, yet normally ignored, husband confused and worried him. Softly, he said, "I'm invisible." Then he realized that it was the lack of Steve's attention that bothered him more than anything; Steve seemed to have eyes only for the beautiful woman that had just breezed through.
Frowning softly, Steve finally turned his eyes on his husband, "ya ain't invisible, Bucky." Leaning in closer, to avoid someone overhearing, the blond whispered, "you're all I can see."
Troubled, Bucky looked at the once smaller man, now two inches taller and a good forty pounds heavier. He frowned and tossed some change on the table to pay for his beer. "I'm tired." Bucky turned towards the exit.
Rushing forward to reach Bucky's side, Steve looked down at his husband, very worried and concerned. Bucky had seemed fine right before Peggy showed up . . . what happened? "Buck? You alright?"
Nodding, looking lost and a bit sick, Bucky said, "yeah, just not used to the alcohol and rich food, I guess." He walked from the pub and into the cold night air, slipping his hat onto his head, but it lacked his normal jaunty angle. Bucky shoved his suddenly freezing hands deep in his uniform pockets and began trudging back to the stone structure set aside for SSI headquarters and temporary billeting for the returned POWs.
Not fully buying Bucky's excuse, Steve shook his head but didn't say anything, just continued to walk besides his lover. Bucky did look a little sick, but the blond had a feeling something else was going on . . . he knew when Bucky was upset . . . something about Peggy's visit had upset the brunet . . . but Steve couldn't figure out what.
Not protesting Steve's company, thankful to have the man near despite his own personal demons, Bucky stepped just a tad closer to Steve's warmth, still hunched against the bitter cold. He'd already been told his lose of weight would make things colder, and the doctors hadn't lied.
Wrapping his arm around Bucky's shoulders, Steve pulled his husband in closer; to any outsider it would appear that two friends were simply helping each other walk home from a night at the pub, but the blond knew Bucky was cold . . . and now Steve's temperature always ran high.
Sighing at the instant heat source, Bucky lay his head on Steve's shoulder, letting the illusion go forth that he'd had too much partying, despite only finishing half a beer. "Tired . . ." he murmured.
"I bet, didn't get very good sleep last night. I'm sure you'll pass out as soon as we get to the barracks," Steve said with a small smile, hoping for Bucky's sake that it would be true.
"We can lock the door?" Bucky asked softly, thankful the military had insisted on doubling up the men. Technically, Steve could have had his own room, as this group consisted of an odd number, but the beautiful blond had allowed the Brit, Major Falsworth, that privilege,
"Yeah, we can lock the door, Buck," Steve said softly, giving his lover a gentle squeeze around the shoulders, bringing the brunet even closer to his side.
After a moment, it became evident that Bucky had nuzzled his nose into Steve's neck and was inhaling deeply.
Looking around to make sure no one could see them, Steve moved his head to press a quick, light kiss in Bucky's hair.
"Love your scent, Cariad. You're always my sweet Stevie," Bucky's voice was low, muffled by Steve's neck. He straightened as they stepped up before the small building assigned for their stay. "Room's on the second floor, right?" Bucky asked on a sigh, fishing around and pulling out his key in a shaking, pale hand.
Frowning at his lover's trembling hands, Steve nodded and confirmed, "yeah . . . Buck? You sure you're okay? Do you need to go to medical?"
"No!" Bucky jumped on that answer so quick, his word bit off and sounded either angry or panicked. "No doctors," he growled softly. "I'm just cold, Steve."
"Okay," Steve said half-heartedly, not buying what Bucky was telling him, but he didn't want to push the brunet into doing something he didn't want to do. The blond opened the door and allowed Bucky to step in first.
Looking at the useless key in his hand, Bucky sighed and let it fall back into his pocket. He stepped into the room and immediately took his hat off, gently placing it on the small table. Striding slowly across the small room, the brunet unfastened his jacket with long, slender fingers. He stopped next to the cold radiator.
Shutting the door softly behind him, locking it like Bucky had asked, Steve walked over to Bucky, placing a strong hand on the brunet's shoulder. "Can you tell me what's really wrong now?"
Looking at Steve, Bucky sighed and slid out of his uniform jacket, his whole body shaking. "A lot of things seem wrong, Steve." Now that they were once more alone, Bucky seemed willing to talk at least.
Steve flinched softly but nodded, "wanna talk about it? I'm a real good listener, you know that."
Nodding, the brunet unfastened his belt and trousers, removing them carefully. "Yeah, but you won't like what I say, Stevie." Bucky looked up as he sank to the bed, removing one shoe then the other. "I feel weak and kind of pointless."
"Weak?" Steve crouched down in front of Bucky, "Bucky, baby, you aren't weak. You are the only person to come out of that room alive. You survived. And you could never be pointless to me, to anyone who knows you and loves you."
"Yeah, and no matter how many times I tell myself those same things, it doesn't change how I feel, Steve. I feel weak and pointless. I know that blue shit they shoved in me helped heal me. That's what Zola said it was supposed to, but I don't think that's the entire reason I lived so long." The brunet left his socks on and turned to the drawer with his and Steve's night clothes, fishing for his war-issued longjohns and pulling them on with a sigh for the warmth.
"How about starting with why you feel those things?" Steve asked softly, looking up at Bucky with sad, worried eyes.
"Same reason as last time we talked, actually. I feel weak because . . . well," he flushed and anger and pain filled his steel-colored eyes, "Okay, I feel pointless 'cause a dozen guys got the same training I did and aren't having trouble getting enough sleep to do it." Bucky shook his head, buttoning up his winter underwear. "I feel like it's a matter of time before I get shipped stateside because I can't get over what happened. It's still locked in my mind and all over my body." He shuddered, hugging himself.
"Bucky, it's only been a few days. You gotta give yourself a chance to heal, your body and mind will heal with time. What you went through . . ." Steve flushed and looked down at the ground as he cleared his throat. Looking back up at Bucky, he swallowed and continued, "no one should have to . . . just give yourself time."
"Steve, I have bathed three times in the last day and a half, but I can't get him off of me." Bucky hugged himself and stood, walking to the cold radiator and frowning, holding his hand out then touching the icy metal, a sure sign the room's heat was not on.
Standing back up, Steve made his way over to where Bucky stood and as soon as the brunet pulled his hand off the machine, Steve turned it on to heat up the room, although he wasn't cold in the slightest. Slowly, to allow Bucky to pull away if needed, Steve wrapped his arms around his husband and kissed the bite mark on his lover's neck.
Letting his head fall back, Bucky keened softly in a needy way. "I missed you so much, Stevie," he groaned. He didn't feel much, his body not reacting like it used to, but Bucky reveled in his lover's touch, anyway.
Running his tongue across the raised flesh, Steve murmured against Bucky's neck, "I missed you, too, baby."
Finally turning completely to press flush against Steve, Bucky leaned in to kiss Steve's matching bite mark. "Know how many times I had to jerk off while you've been gone?" He wasn't afraid of sex, not with Steve; Bucky just didn't feel . . . adequate any more.
"Mmm, . ." Steve hummed with a loving smile, "well, with us sharing a room that shouldn't be a problem. Just gotta be quick . . . and quiet." The blond pressed his lips to Bucky's.
"I was never the one who had a problem with quiet," Bucky teased softly, though he seemed a bit withdrawn still.
"Yeah, well," Steve flushed, "it's your fault for always taking such good care of me, Buck."
"Humph," Bucky mocked lightly, "my fault? You saying I made you this fucking hot?" He ran a hand down Steve's uniform jacket and smiled softly, the teasing glint in his eyes muted, shadowed by pain and uncertainty.
Pulling slightly away with a soft frown, catching the look in Bucky's eyes, Steve looked at his husband. "You don't like it, do you?" Steve didn't sound mad or upset, more curious and worried.
"Don't like it?" Bucky frowned, confusion sweeping over him. "Don't like what, Steve?"
"What the serum did," Steve answered with a blush, still not used to his own body. The blond wouldn't be surprised if Bucky didn't like his new body; Bucky had fallen for Steve's smaller self.
Stunned, Bucky pulled out of Steve's arms and shook his head. "My fucking God, Steve, really? This is really happening?" He shook his head and stepped over to the bed to pull back the covers and slip inside. "I love that the serum healed you. How can you possibly think I don't like that you are the epitome of health and male beauty?" Bucky frowned more, "though beauty isn't everything, so we can just forget that bit and go with the fact that I'm ecstatic that you aren't sick anymore! Nor do I have to worry about cold feet on my legs anymore."
Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair, no matter what he said . . . it only seemed to make matters worse. Now, Bucky was definitely upset at him. "I'm sorry," Steve muttered, "I didn't mean to upset you . . . I'm just trying to figure things out - - I don't know what to do or say."
Shaking his head, Bucky let out a huff of air. "You are the walking epitome of what the military wants, what the Fertility Nature's describe as the perfect Alpha, and you're still insecure about your looks?" He rolled his eyes. "C'mere, doll."
"All I care about is being what you want," Steve said honestly as he began to pull off his uniform so he could join Bucky in bed.
"I want you to be you, Steve. I don't want you to change because of what someone else thinks or says." The brunet looked at the bed pushed against the wall and shuddered. He got up to find the warming pan and then realized there wasn't even a fire to put it in. Giving up on that idea, the brunet hunted up a hot water bottle and began trying to find a way to heat up water so he could fill it.
Folding his uniform carefully, Steve pulled on his sleepwear and sat on the edge of his bed. "I'm really warm, Bucky . . . the doctors say that my body naturally runs a few degrees higher than the average. Under the blanket . . . you should warm up just fine." He patted the spot next to him gently. Steve was a little worried about how cold Bucky still felt. Sliding over, getting as close as he could to the wall, Steve slid under the blankets and held them open for his husband to join him.
Taking Steve's suggestion and explanation to heart, Bucky put down the cold hot water bottle. He walked over, eying the bed and it's lone occupant as if it were something less than desireable. Slowly, Bucky slid onto the bed, next to Steve. He nodded, "you're definitely warm." Turning over, back to Steve, Bucky watched the rom in the low light of the gas lamp. Slowly, he reached up and turned the wick to shut down the lamp's glow, plunging the room in near darkness, starlight the only light filtering in. Bucky closed his eyes, reminding himself that Steve was the one behind him.
"You're okay, baby," Steve cooed gently, "c'mon, let's try to get some sleep, yeah?"
"Yeah," Bucky murmured and slid backwards just a bit, feeling his lover pressed against his back, but somehow it didn't feel wrong; he didn't feel vulnerable in his husband's arms. Bucky felt complete . . . and like he was in control once more. He let himself drift off, breaths evening out.
Steve absently ran his fingers down Bucky's arm in a soothing manner, listening to the steady breathing. He hoped Bucky would sleep through the night; he figured if Bucky could get some decent sleep . . . all the other problems and complications would start to correct themselves.
Unfortunately only about two hours passed before Bucky woke up with a horrible scream, falling into chanting his name, rank, and serial number in both English and Romanian, over and over. His body shook violently and the soldier began scrambling from the bed, thumping onto the floor and crawling across, blindly, unaware he headed right for the radiator.
Shooting up, Steve's heart thumped heavily in his chest; the blond scrambled after Bucky, worried that the brunet would burn himself. "Buck! Bucky, stop! You're safe! You're with Steve!" Steve grabbed Bucky's arm to pull him away from the heated metal.
Screaming, Bucky whirled, trying to pull away his arm, facing the perceived threat.
"Stop!" Steve struggled, continuing to drag the thrashing man away from the radiator that could easily cause serious burns, "C'mon, Buck! It's me . . . it's Steve!"
Freezing suddenly, Bucky began chanting once more, eyes blank and almost dead. He stayed absolutely still in Steve's grip, his body trembling.
Cupping Bucky's face gently, Steve caressed his husband's cheek bones with his thumbs, "Come back to me, baby. You're safe. Please . . . you're safe with me." Cautiously, Steve leaned forward and pressed his lips tenderly to Bucky's, "come back to me, Buck," Steve whispered against his lover's lips.
At the feeling of Steve's mouth, the sudden influx of that sweet, safe scent, Bucky felt the grip of horror, the remembered lab, the excruciating nightmares fall away. He stopped fighting, stopped chanting, and blinked, eyes widely looking around the strange room. He whimpered in confusion, his steel-blue eyes haunted and panicked, but the brunet had fallen temporarily quiet.
"Hey, Buck," Steve breathed, taking the quiet as a good sign, and kissed Bucky again, "you're alright . . . you're safe."
"Ste . . . Stevie," Bucky gripped his lover's shoulders and buried his face in the blond's neck, breathing deeply. He didn't remember getting onto the floor, but he could figure out what must have happened: he'd freaked out again, like the doctor had feared. He was going to be sent to some asylums for lunatics and babbling morons. Bucky sobbed.
Wrapping his strong arms around Bucky, Steve held his husband close, "it's okay, baby. You're okay. We'll figure this out," the blond ran his fingers down Bucky's back, trying to calm him down.
"I'm going crazy, Cariad. He'll never let me go until he drives me to madness . . ." Bucky moaned low into his lover's neck.
"No, baby," Steve cooed, "no . . . I won't let that happen, okay? You're just having some nightmares again . . . I stopped them once, didn't I? I can stop them again." The blond didn't know if he was lying or not. Bucky's trauma now was a lot worse than when the brunet had seen his father die . . . there was a lot more for Bucky to deal with.
Bucky continued to cry, feeling weak yet again, especially in front of Steve. He was a soldier, a marksman, and he hadn't protected himself. He'd been . . . raped . . . and hadn't stopped it. Bucky curled his fingers into Steve's pajamas.
"Shhh . . . it's okay, Buck, you're alright," Steve repeated in a soft, gentle voice, continuing to run his fingers up and down Bucky's back.
Shaking his head, the brunet whimpered, "I can't, Stevie. I can't live through that again . . . he's everywhere."
"You're safe now . . . they're just dreams, baby. He's never going to hurt you again," Steve promised, feeling very confident about that fact. Steve had left the bastard unconscious in an exploding building . . . there was no way that man had gotten out.
Body trembling as he cried, Bucky shook his head. "I'm fine . . . I'm fine . . ." he sobbed. "Just don't sleep . . ."
"Bucky . . . you have to sleep," Steve said gently, "your body needs rest. I know it's scary right now . . . but the nightmares will go away." The blond felt so helpless . . . he couldn't fight Bucky's nightmares - - he couldn't punch his way out of this problem. "The medic left a few sedatives, if you want?"
"Medicine . . . to make me sleep . . . not be able to wake up, get away . . ." Bucky moaned, face buried in Steve's neck.
"I won't leave you while you sleep, okay? I'll keep watch. The sedatives will just help you get some rest and then you'll feel better in the morning," Steve offered.
Lifting his face, Bucky nodded, his voice softening in a sound of tired defeat."Don't leave me, Stevie."
"I promise," Steve said and kissed Bucky's forehead, "I'm just gonna get the medicine, okay? Can you make it back to the bed?"
"Yeah, yes . . ." Bucky nodded and let his husband go, seizing on the firm directions. He crawled, not wanting to even try to stand on his shaking legs. Pulling himself back into the ed, Bucky collapsed at the edge, unable to get into the interior where he'd feel so much more secure, even if blocked by Steve.
Steve lighted the lamp again so he could see what he did and grabbed one the leftover sedatives from the medic. Kneeling by the edge of the bed, Steve ran his fingers through Bucky's hair and kissed his forehead, "you're gonna be okay, baby."
With a nod, Bucky softly said, "go ahead, Steve, give me the medicine."
Nodding, Steve rolled up Bucky's sleeve and carefully plunged the needle into the same spot he'd seen the medic do earlier.
It took only minutes for Bucky's eyes to fall closed and his breathing to steady out, his body trembling fading to relaxation.
Putting the metal and glass syringe on the bedside table, Steve leaned forward to kiss his husband's forehead again. "I love you, Bucky."
xxx
Continued in Chapter Twenty-Three: A Change of Position