Hey guys! So sorry it took me so long. This week has been absolutely crazy at work! Thank you so much for all your support and your reviews! I hope you enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 5
No matter how painful all of this was, Steve was constantly rewarded by the small steps that Bucky took. He still wasn't smiling and he wasn't talking as much as Steve but he was relaxing a lot more. They began exposing him to all sorts of different sounds and situations, noting down his triggers and actively avoiding or seeking them out for therapeutic purposes. None of his triggers had been too bad yet, though that was because Bucky still hadn't told them about what had been done to him and thus they couldn't have possibly known what his biggest trigger would end up being…
Fragments of memories came back to him slowly, some of them painfully and Bucky would run them by Steve to check if they were real or just another senseless dream brought forth by his healing mind.
"I'm so glad they no longer keep you in that interrogation room." Steve confessed, sitting down on the couch in the living area of the two-roomed flat that Bucky could now call his temporary home. It was located in an apartment block next to the police station. The block belonged to the police and was where they housed relatives of inmates or employees that were working at the police station for a while on a case and didn't actually live in New York. Steve had pretty much moved in with Bucky, not because Bucky had asked him to, but because it just sort of happened. When Steve witnessed the first of Bucky's violent nightmares, he had decided to stick around as much as possible to keep Bucky distracted. Bucky would sometimes become distant, caught in a memory that would make him break out in a cold sweat and tremble. When that happened, Steve always managed to snap Bucky out of it, rescuing him from a barrage of images that Bucky would much rather forget. Yes, Bucky was struggling but Steve firmly believed that he was well on his way to maybe one day being able to live by himself and actually figure out what made him happy. Steve himself didn't even know what made him happy anymore, just that when he was with Bucky, he felt as close to being happy as he had in absolute years.
Bucky sat down next to Steve with a mug of what Steve identified as coffee in his left hand. Steve had explained to him how the coffee machine worked that morning. Bucky had always been a quick learner so it didn't take long for him to catch on. Over the past days Bucky had been watching a lot of TV, catching up on the four years he missed so it came as no surprise when Bucky's right hand picked up the remote and turned the TV on. The two of them fell into a comfortable silence while they watched, Steve determining what they watched and Bucky going along with it, sipping at his coffee occasionally.
Steve's attention was abruptly diverted from the TV and he jumped when he heard something smash. When he looked at Bucky, he saw that he was looking down at his metal hand. The cup the hand had been holding was now lying on the floor in shattered pieces and the steaming coffee was spilt all over his hand and the floor. "What happened? Are you okay?" Steve asked him worriedly, trying to think back to what had been on TV, if something had set him off. "I don't know." Bucky admitted, looking puzzled. He rotated his left arm slowly a few times, clenching and unclenching his hand. The arm would jerk during those movements and the plates would shift loudly. Judging by the frown on Bucky's face, that wasn't very normal. "Is it malfunctioning?" Steve asked him and Bucky nodded, "Do you… have anyone that could look at it for you?" It was a stupid question really and Steve knew it. A strange look crossed Bucky's face and he got up, moving to the kitchen without a word to get things to clean up the mess.
While Bucky was busy cleaning, Steve got out his phone to text Sam, asking if he knew of someone that knew enough about prosthetics and mechanics to be able to help Bucky.
It didn't take long for both of them to realize that the condition of the arm wasn't anything that could stay the way it was for long. His arm would jerk, breaking things and almost hitting Steve on numerous occasions throughout the early afternoon. "Sam knows a guy." Steve finally worked up the courage to address the topic after another hour of struggling with the arm. Bucky's right hand was clasping his left wrist in a futile attempt to keep the arm still. "He could look at your arm for you?" It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that that was the last thing that Bucky really wanted to do. Steve worried about the dark look on his face, worried that Bucky might not take too kindly to people tinkering with his arm. He still didn't know to what extent Bucky even felt things with the arm, if he could feel anything at all. He had spilt fresh coffee over the metal hand and hadn't even batted an eyelid. Still, Steve knew that regardless of how much Bucky didn't want people touching his arm, something had to be done about the glitch. "Trust me, okay? He's a good guy. He's worked with all sorts of mechanical prosthetics so he's pretty much the only guy we know who could help you. Just trust me Buck." He said it again, pleadingly this time and Bucky bowed his head, his long brown hair curtaining his face. "When?" Bucky asked him, his voice sounding lower and rougher than usual. "This afternoon?"
"Understood" Bucky got up and walked to his bedroom, leaving Steve in the living room.
Their appointment with Tony Stark was at four o'clock. Steve and Bucky met Sam in front of a huge tower in the middle of New York. Bucky still hadn't been successfully desensitised when it came to the noise of the city so he was tense, his eyes darting around as per usual. He'd never been this far into the city and Steve could imagine that Bucky was struggling to process all of the things going on around him. His left arm was pressed to his side and his hand was shoved into the pocket of the green bomber jacket he was wearing over a black t-shirt. Steve walked beside Bucky, watching the other's movements and his mood carefully. They had quickly realized that Steve somehow had the authority to defuse Bucky's aggressive moods. Sometimes it would backfire and Steve would end up pinned to something or with Bucky's hand wrapped around his arm or throat. More often than not though, Steve managed to draw Bucky's attention to him and the large man would begin to relax the longer he listened to Steve talk. "You okay Bucky?"
"I'm functional." He assured Steve in that same monotonous tone he would always talk in. His words made Steve's heart clench. On top of that, Steve missed Bucky's expressive language and his colourful descriptions. He missed everything about him- he missed Bucky.
Sam made sure to walk behind Bucky, giving Bucky the sense of security that no one could sneak up behind him. They entered the building like that, walking up to a fancy reception counter made metal and glass. A large 'S' was engraved into the metal plating of the countertop. "How can I help you?" The lady behind the counter eyed the three men with a welcoming smile. Her eyes lingered on Bucky for a moment before she turned her undivided attention to Steve and her smile widened. "We're here to see Mr. Stark. For the arm. Um… he said we should… We have an appointment." Steve stuttered, feeling himself go red under her mildly suggestive gaze. "Ah! You must be Mr. Rogers, am I right?" When Steve nodded, she typed something out on the computer, pressed a button off to the side and smiled up at them again, "I've notified Mr. Stark of your arrival. Jarvis will let you know where you are to go. Have a pleasant stay gentleman." Steve was about to ask who Jarvis was, when a polite British voice spoke up, filling the room. Bucky didn't seem to like this much, his eyes darting around to find the source, zeroing in on a loudspeaker in the ceiling. "Hello. I am Jarvis. I will be guiding you through the tower to Mr. Stark." The AI paused for a moment before continuing, "Mr. Stark is in his laboratory at the moment. You have the full clearance level so I will be taking you directly to see him." Jarvis instructed them to take one of the elevators in the back of the entrance hall.
As soon as they were inside the elevator and the doors had closed, Bucky tensed notably, backing up against the back wall of the elevator. His hands clenched, as did his jaw. "It's okay Buck. I know it's a small space but we'll be out of here soon." Steve tried to calm him down but his breathing was erratic and his gaze distant. Sam took a step back, trying to give Bucky as much space as he possibly could. "Bucky can you hear me?" Sam spoke up and Bucky blinked, looking at Sam, "Close your eyes." Sam told him quietly and Bucky did as he was told when Steve gave him a light nod, "Now breathe in slowly. Imagine you're in the park by the police station. What do you see?"
"Trees." Bucky answered Sam slowly, his brows furrowing slightly while he concentrated on the image in his mind and not on the buzzing of the elevator, "Steve is there too."
"I am?" Steve asked in surprise and Bucky nodded his head, "That's nice." Steve added a little bashfully, not sure what else he should say. Every time Bucky showed Steve that Steve meant something to him, it made Steve want to wrap his arms around Bucky in the tightest hug imaginable and cling onto him, afraid that he would disappear again at any moment. He couldn't do that though. No one was allowed to touch Bucky, not even Steve.
Before they knew it, they were out of the elevator and Bucky was free from the cramped space. He didn't relax though. He kept scanning his surroundings uneasily and he eyed the large windows that made up the walls of the tower. There was no way to escape a building like this without possibly dying. They were too far up. If the enemy came from below, they were trapped anyway. Jarvis had brought them right to the top of the tower. A flight of stairs led down to the lab from a living area that overlooked New York. Stark Tower was one of the tallest buildings in the city. Sam thought it spoke lengths about the size of the man's ego. Tony was arrogant, excessively eccentric and slightly difficult to deal with but he was a genius and probably the only man who could fix Bucky's arm. As soon as they had made it down the stairs, Jarvis announced their arrival to the room. Bucky's eyes immediately started tracking a movement in the corner of the room and soon a man wearing a long sleeved grey shirt came scrambling over to them. He was uncoordinated and weak, thought Bucky, hardly a threat. Tony's beard was well trimmed, his black hair a mess. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, revealing a smudge of grease on his lower arm. "Hey." He greeted them casually, "Cap." He looked at Steve, "Robocop and… well I haven't thought of a nice nickname for you yet." Tony admitted, smiling at Sam when the latter rolled his eyes. He turned on his heel in a whirl of movement and Steve noticed Bucky's body move slightly before freezing while his arms tensed, stopping himself from moving. He knew Bucky didn't fare well under erratic, spontaneous people and Tony was both. The quick movements made Bucky want to lash out and as it was, Bucky was already tense enough. It made Steve worry. "Just sit down over there and take your shirt off." Tony waved to a metal framed chair with thick armrests but Buck froze, staring at the chair with widened eyes. His jaw was set and his shoulders were so tense that Steve could see the muscles quiver in the back of his neck. "Bucky?" When Steve stepped around to look at Bucky's face, he was alarmed by the incredibly distant look in his best friend's eyes. Bucky had had flashbacks before but normally Steve would be able to snap him out of them simply by moving in front of him or talking to him. He wanted to wave his hands in front of Bucky's eyes to check whether Bucky was still with them in any way but even that could set him off like a nuclear rocket. Beads of sweat were starting to form on Bucky's forehead and Steve noticed the faint tremble in his right arm. "Sam. I think he's gone." Steve mumbled quietly and Sam nodded, moving to the side of the room to watch Bucky carefully. "What set him off?" Sam asked.
"The chair I think." Steve followed Bucky's line of sight, his eyes coming to rest on the gleaming chair. With one astoundingly quick movement, Tony was standing in front of Bucky with a light smirk on his face. A surge of panic rose up in Steve but the need to move slowly around Bucky prevented him from getting to them before Tony spoke up. "Come on big guy, the chair's not gonna eat ya." He heard Tony say.
"No don't!" Steve cried out, just when Tony reached out to take Bucky's wrist to lead him over to the chair. As soon as Tony's hand brushed the skin on Bucky's right hand, Bucky jerked into action, his body acting completely of its own accord. Steve pushed Tony aside roughly, closing his eyes when Bucky's hand wrapped around his neck instead of Tony's. "What part of PTSD patient did you not understand Stark?!" He heard Sam yell and not even that got the usually so sound-sensitive Bucky back to reality. For a moment it seemed like their surroundings disappeared. It was only Steve and Bucky. Except, it wasn't Bucky. It was someone else… His eyes were cold, calculated and his face darkly vacant. Then the ground disappeared from underneath Steve and his stomach lurched when he was lifted into the air with a frightening amount of force. Two seconds later, the ground was rushing towards him again and he was slammed into the tiled floor, back first. Winded, Steve only managed to open his mouth in an attempt to scream but there was no more air in his lungs left to use. For a moment it felt like his lungs couldn't inflate anymore and Bucky was still squeezing down on Steve's throat with agonizing force. Panic tried to get a grip on him, tried to make him attempt to hyperventilate but he managed to force down the urge. He couldn't breathe anyway and panicking was going to make all of this even worse. Tears stung at Steve's eyes while he was forced to stare at Bucky's empty face. There was no recognition in his eyes whatsoever and Steve knew that Bucky was more than far gone. "Buck." He forced out, making a choking noise when he tried to draw in a breath. His lungs burnt and his stomach cramped. His back was sending jolts of pain up his spine and his face felt like it was about to split open due to the pressure building up inside of him. His ribs, that hadn't completely healed yet, ached, and made him want to wrap his arms around his torso to shield them. Black spots began appearing at the periphery of his vision and he gritted his teeth, clinging onto his conscious state with all he had left in him. Bucky was kneeling over him, his long brown hair almost brushing Steve's forehead. Steve placed a hand on each of his shoulders, pushing Bucky up and back as much as he could. Bucky weighed a hell of a lot but with one strong push, he managed to throw Bucky off a little. Steve noticed Bucky's arm malfunction slightly, noticing that the plates were shifting incorrectly with a loud, grating whir. Tony must have noticed it too because he threw a screwdriver in such a way that it landed directly next to the two. Without thinking, Steve picked up the screwdriver and rammed the sharp end right into Bucky's arm, there where the plates had failed to close up the gaps. To Steve's surprise and horror, Bucky cried out, letting go and backing away immediately. Sam was next to Steve in seconds, yanking the larger man to his feet roughly, the two stumbling a little in the process. "Bucky stop!" Steve yelled at him desperately and Bucky froze, huffing and panting due to the pain in his mechanical arm. His right hand was clasping onto the spot where the screwdriver had been while Steve held onto his aching throat. "Buck it's me." Steve lowered his voice, swallowing the dire need to break down and sob, "It's me… Steve."
"Steve." Bucky echoed quietly, his eyes softening and his shoulders slumping, "Steve." He repeated slowly, "What happened?" A dazed look crossed his face when he looked at his arm and then at Steve whose body was curled into itself with pain, making Steve look small and vulnerable. He gave Steve a quick once over and the dazed expression on his face cleared away immediately, making space for a frown that hardened his features again. "What did I do?"
"You don't have to sit in the chair if you don't want to Buck." Steve avoided an answer, forcing down the impulse to sit down and hold his aching body, "I'm sure you can sit in a different chair or even lie down, right Tony?" Tony nodded, his dark brown eyes panning between Bucky and Steve with a hint of fascination in them. "Steve." Bucky was frowning.
"Come on Bucky, how about this one?" Steve limped over to something that looked similar to a cheap hospital bed. Bucky followed him with two quick strides before placing his flesh hand on Steve's shoulders to stop him. The other man whirled around, surprised and startled by the fact that Bucky was actually touching him, bumping into the bed with his lower back. When Bucky saw the alarmed look in Steve's bright blue eyes, he removed his hand from Steve immediately and forced himself to look at the wall behind Steve instead until Steve relaxed. "Steve please…" Steve heard the plea in Bucky's normally so indifferent sounding voice but he couldn't get himself to talk about what Bucky had just done. The thought alone made him want to run out of the room, find a corner, sit down and sob for hours. He wanted to trust Bucky, he really did but Bucky wasn't alone in his head. There was someone else… someone who wanted nothing more than to eliminate any threat in his vicinity. Bucky didn't have full control over his body or his mind and until that was the case, Steve wasn't going to be able to let his guard down. Steve bowed his head, shoving his trembling hands into the pockets of his jeans to stop Bucky from seeing how unnerved he really was.
"I hurt you again, didn't I?" When Steve cringed, Bucky had to avert his eyes. He wanted to break something. He wanted to tear something into the tiniest pieces imaginable, preferably himself; yes… that's what should be destroyed, the thing that kept hurting Steve. Kept hurting Stevie, I hate it when you get hurt! You don't deserve it! Really ya don't but it's like you actually enjoy getting punched! Can't ya jus' stop picking a fight for one damn week?
"I'm sorry Stevie." Steve's heart skipped a beat at the nickname and his face softened immediately. Damn it, he was that sixteen-year-old kid back in Brooklyn again, feeling all small around Bucky; big, strong Bucky Barnes. "It's okay Buck." The smile he smiled made Bucky feel strange. It wasn't the broken smile that Bucky had gotten used to seeing. It was whole and bright and made Bucky feel more alive than he could ever remember feeling. "It's not fine. I'm no good Stevie." He didn't know where he knew those words from, but they felt natural to say and the look on Steve's face affirmed that it was something he probably used to say a lot. Part of him wanted to cringe at the fact that he was openly objecting to something Steve had just said. His programming objected to his actions, the fear of being punished lingering somewhere in the back of his mind. "Lie down." Steve nodded to the bed and Bucky complied, doing what Steve asked him to after taking off his jacket and his shirt, making sure that his right side was facing the wall and not his left side. Steve moved to stand by Bucky's head, smiling down at Bucky reassuringly. "You don't have good memories of this, do you?" Sam asked Bucky who shook his head, frowning, "Well we're here to help you." Sam added, "Keep telling yourself that. We're not the people who did this to you." Bucky let his eyes settle on Steve's face. He studied his strong jaw and the hint of stubble that dotted Steve's skin there. He inspected his cheekbones, fanned by his long lashes and something told him that he had freckles. He remembered that Steve had freckles on his nose and cheeks. They were faint and you could only really see them when you looked carefully. Also, Bucky recalled that Steve's eyes weren't a pure blue. They had a little bit of green in them as well, right around the pupil. He couldn't see his eyes clearly from where he was lying but his mind brought forth a vivid memory of Steve's eyes. The familiarity of those eyes filled Bucky with a deep sense of peace and his body became apathetic. He distracted himself by trying to see what else he could remember about Steve.
He didn't even flinch when Tony strapped down his left arm for safety reasons. He watched the way Steve kept a careful eye on what Tony was doing. It was going to be okay. Steve was there, Steve was good.
"If it hurts, just say so and we'll stop immediately." Steve said quietly and Bucky nodded.
Yes, Steve was so, so good.
His fingers twitched when Tony removed some of the plates to look at the inside of the arm. The mechanic hummed every now and then, remarking about how advanced and amazing this piece of machinery was and whether he couldn't just keep the arm. Of course Steve was quick to turn it down on Bucky's behalf and Bucky found that he didn't mind Steve talking for him. The longer Tony worked on the arm, the more excited he got and eventually Sam had to advise Tony to move more slowly and Tony did, not wanting a repeat of earlier.
The longer the procedure went on without a prick or even a sense of discomfort, the more Bucky began relaxing. Sam had been right: they were there to help him. He wasn't going to come out of this exhausted from screaming. He wasn't going to feel his body writhe in pain. He was safe. He was with Steve.
Tony did a scan on the arm to see the wiring, afraid of doing more damage than being helpful if he didn't know exactly what the inside of the arm looked like. "Hey Steve…" Steve frowned, moving from Bucky to Tony who was staring at something on his tablet with furrowed brows, "Look at this." A mortified frown spread across Steve's face the moment he saw what had disconcerted Tony that much and he had to look away, covering his mouth with his hand as if he was trying not to either vomit or scream. "What's up?" Sam joined them, having a similar reaction to Steve when he saw what was displayed on the tablet's screen. "When did they put this arm on?" Tony asked Bucky who only reluctantly took his eyes off of Steve.
"When I first arrived there. I lost my arm before that. I don't remember when or how." Steve was having trouble pulling himself together. He knew that Bucky had been through hell but this was… this was worse than he had expected. He forced his shaky legs to take him back to Bucky's head. He didn't look at Bucky, which bothered the soldier a lot. He felt like he was being punished for something. Had he said something wrong? Was Steve upset with him? As if sensing Bucky's unease, Steve spoke up quietly, so quietly that Sam and Tony had to strain their ears to hear it. "They drilled it into you Buck. They drilled that freaking arm into your torso."
"I know. I felt them do it." The fact that Bucky said it like it was the most natural thing in the world made Steve want to yell at him. He wanted to shake him and tell him that nothing of what was done to him was in any bloody way normal! He had been tortured, used as a human guinea pig for some monster that wanted to see how far he had to push a human in order to strip them of their humanity. "Oh my god Bucky…" Steve breathed, closing his eyes and bowing his head, unable to bear the indifferent look on Bucky's face any longer. "I'm sorry Cap but it gets worse." Tony got up, walking up to the bed and looking down at Bucky's bare chest. Thick scar tissue ran along the area where the metal was fused with his skin. "What d'ya mean Stark?" Sam drew up next to Tony, eying Steve who looked like he was about to be sick. All the blood had left his face and he was trembling slightly. "They melted the two together." He pointed at the extensive scar, wise enough not to touch it, "They melted his skin and the metal together; welded it together so to speak." Steve's breath hitched notably and Sam hurried over with a spare stool just in time to stop Steve from sinking to the ground. Steve bent forward, leaning his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Bucky wanted to sit up to face Steve but the strap around his left arm stopped him from sitting up. For a short moment he considered just tearing it off the table but he knew that that would probably upset Steve more. Instead, he let his head back down, concentrating on the sound of Steve's shallow, uneven breathing instead. He wanted to say his name, as if that could somehow calm Steve. It calmed Bucky to have Steve say his name but somehow Bucky didn't think that that was going to work for the blonde. His flesh hand gripped the edge of the bed, his fingers sliding into the narrow gap between the wall and the bed he was lying on. "Stevie…" The name slipped out of Bucky's mouth despite his initial reservations and he noticed Steve's breath slow down a little. "Sorry." Steve apologized and Bucky heard the stool shift before Steve's face entered his field of vision again, "I'm supposed to be here for you. You're the one facing your nightmares so I shouldn't be… doing this…" Steve gestured to himself. Words bubbled up in Bucky's mind, different variations of sassy, cheeky comments he could use as a retort but he stopped himself with a frown, not understanding where those words were coming from. Instead he fixed his eyes on Steve again, watching the frown slowly fade from the other man's features. Although the frown faded, the troubled, sad look in his eyes remained. It made Bucky want to reach out for Steve to comfort him but even if he wasn't strapped down, Bucky didn't know how to comfort someone. He wondered why Steve wanted to be there for him. He didn't understand. Why would someone want to be there for a weapon?
"Well now that I know what your arm looks like, I can finally get to work!" Tony sang, pulling over the stool Steve had previously occupied and sitting down next to the bed. His eyes took in the wiring of the arm hungrily and an exhilarated smile found its way onto his handsome face while he began tinkering away…
"He can sense pressure and his arm gives him a reading on temperature but he doesn't actually feel the temperature." Tony sat back, looking thoughtful, "And of course he can sense damage which is expressed in pain. The arm converts the signals received into electrical impulses similar to the ones used in the body. The nerve endings in his shoulder have been fused with the artificial nerves in the arm in an intricate process. Must have taken them hours to do. It's pretty amazing actually. The only thing that makes no sense is that the pain seems to be amplified by the receptors in the arm."
"Are you trying to tell me that they purposefully made the arm more sensitive to damage in comparison to his normal arm?" Steve asked Tony, keeping his eyes trained on Bucky who had long since closed his eyes. Steve had chosen to stay standing throughout the repairs, finding it better to be able to watch Bucky's face for any signs of pain instead of dwelling too much on the past, regardless of how difficult it was. He might not be able to do anything about the pain that Bucky had experienced in the past, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to do everything in his power to make sure that Bucky didn't have to suffer more than absolutely necessary. "Yup. Only internal damage though and with an exterior casing like his," he tapped against the metal plates with his screwdriver, "it's difficult enough to get through to the inside." Tony shook his head, "Just don't get what kind of bastards would do all of this to a human being."
"I hope for their sake that I never find out." Steve growled and Bucky's eyes opened at that, "Can you fix it?" He added, smiling down at Bucky when he saw that he was looking up at him with a gentle frown. It was like all the rage he had expressed a moment ago vanished when he had looked at Bucky. "I can make it less sensitive yes and of course fix the rest of the arm." Tony promised, going to work at that immediately.
In total it took Tony an hour to fix the arm. It was quite a feat considering that the arm was the most modern piece of technology that Tony Stark had ever seen. In fact, it inspired quite a few new ideas for prosthetics that he wanted to develop. "You do know that your buddy is carrying a weapon of mass destruction with him, right?" Tony stated once he'd finished, wiping his sweaty hands off on a dirty rag that he had stuffed into his black jeans' pocket. "It is whatever Bucky makes it." Steve insisted, "As long as he's the one using it, it's in good hands."
Tony pulled a face but didn't say anything. Instead he busied himself with closing the arm up again and ten minutes later, Bucky was sitting up and rotating his arm curiously. Steve watched the arm recalibrate for a moment. The metal plates shifted smoothly, adjusting to Bucky's movements while hardly making a sound as they did. Obviously the arm had needed a fix for a while now.
"How's it feel?" Steve asked him and Bucky stopped moving, looking up at Steve with the ghost of a smile on his face. "It feels better than it ever has."
"Well I don't mean to brag… but I am a genius." Tony grinned and Sam and Steve laughed at that. Bucky didn't. They thanked him profusely, saying their goodbyes afterwards and making their way out of the tower. Tony had told them that Bucky was free to stop by whenever he had any problems with the arm and Steve knew that it was because of how fascinated Tony was by the arm. Either way, it was a win-win situation and Steve was grateful that Natasha had recommended Tony Stark.
Steve walked out of the building ahead of Bucky to make sure that no-one bumped into him by mistake. As soon as Bucky was out of the sliding doors though, instead of worrying about his surroundings and the terrible noise made by the cars, he stretched out his left arm and took a hold of Steve's shoulder, stopping him with a firm but not possessive grip. Steve turned around slowly, positively surprised by the fact that Bucky had touched him twice now. "What's up Buck?" He asked him, noting how relaxed Bucky's body was. The only thing that made him worry was the urgent look in his steel-blue eyes. "How are you?" The words felt strange to say for Bucky but he was desperate to know the answer. He couldn't remember the last time he was actually concerned for someone's well-being. Usually he didn't care if someone was dead or alive and he also didn't mind being the one to stomp them out. It simply hadn't been something he'd ever thought about. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, feeling the weight of his arm more than he usually did all of a sudden. Was he nervous? Was that what nervousness felt like? Or was it unease? He couldn't tell. "I'm fine." Steve assured him with an endearing smile, "It doesn't hurt as badly as it did when it first happened. Besides, I've had way worse than this Buck, don't worry about me."
But I do. The thought crossed his mind but instead of voicing it, he swallowed, nodding his head and waiting for Steve to lead the way and tell him what to do.
There you go! So slowly but surely Steve is starting to learn about what happened to Bucky! How do you guys think he's gonna handle that?
I really hope you enjoyed the chapter! I'll be posting the next one soon~
Thank you so much for reading! Don't forget to leave a review to let me know what you think!
