Habromania: Delusions of happiness.
Steve wakes up to find Bucky shaking and spasming in bed beside him, his brow knotted, his sleeping expression pained with furrowed brows and a tight set about his mouth. His metal arm, which Steve has come to accept easily, its weight solid in his hand much like his trusty shield, is rigid, the hand clenched in a fist, nearly ripping the cotton sheets beneath him.
Steve sighs, pulls Bucky close to him, his hold tight and secure even as Bucky twists against his grip and mutters in his sleep.
Steve wakes the next morning to find Bucky sitting on the edge of the bed, his hair hanging over his face, tracing over Steve's face with his flesh hand. He pulls away when he sees Steve's eyes open, and Steve reaches up to grasp at his hand and smile encouragingly at him.
"Hey, you," he says lightly, but Bucky does not return the smile.
"Hit me, will you?" he asks instead, and Steve quirks an eyebrow at him. "As hard as you can," he urges when Steve doesn't move.
"Nightmare?" Steve asks quietly, and Bucky nods, just once, before Steve punches him square in the ribs, a solid thwock of skin and muscle, and he doubles over, wheezing and clutching at his stomach.
"My God, that hurts, every time," Bucky says, but his voice isn't angry, and instead is good-natured and lighthearted. "But at least it's real. This is real. We're real. So I guess I can deal with that," he motions to the bruise starting to form on his torso.
"You wouldn't have to deal with it if you would just accept the fact that I'm not going to be going anywhere for a long, long time," Steve says, sitting up and smiling at Bucky.
Bucky rolls his eyes at the sentimentality of the moment, and tells Steve that his punches have gotten weaker, that his age is finally catching up to him, and Steve laughs without malice and throws another punch at Bucky's shoulder.