Chapter Text
Three damned years and he still couldn't get Bucky to feel safe. Three damned years. Not that Steve could blame him. Not with Bucky's life the way it had been. Two years on the run with Steve and what was left of the Avengers, where they hadn't been safe. The years he had spent after getting out of Hydra's control and running from Steve, where he hadn't been safe. The years with Hydra, that Steve didn't even want to think about. The war, yeah that had been safe, even before Steve dragged him back into hell with the Commandos. Shit, even their life before the war during the depression, he'd never really been safe. Life was difficult at best and that was without even considering all the fights because of Steve. It was no wonder that, even though they'd been back in New York for a year, Bucky still didn't feel safe.
Maria, bless her, had worked the better part of those years since SHIELD fell helping him get Bucky cleared of war crime charges. She had fought with all the knowledge the files had given from the different Hydra bases they hit. Then there had been the chair. That god awful chair, found in the basement vault in one of Pierce's holdings. Steve had wanted to throw up after watching the videos, after hearing Bucky’s screams. The quiet after the screams had been worse. Seeing Bucky sitting there pliant, in a fog, just waiting for the command words. Steve felt his stomach clench at the memory of the video.
Steve wanted to hurt someone. He felt that way often now, watching Bucky trying to adjust. He wished Fury hadn't killed Pierce so quickly. Pierce had been a sick bastard undeserving of such a fast, relatively painless death. Hydra aside, he had hurt Bucky, had wanted it to hurt as much as possible when Bucky didn't 'comply'. Steve wished Rumlow was still alive so he could drop another damned building on him. Rumlow had worked with Bucky, brought him to Pierce to be wiped, to be hurt. Steve had gotten used to betrayal, but the betrayal he felt for Bucky's wellbeing made him rage. Now it was those goddamned reporters and their questions, their pictures.
Bucky had thought enough time had passed since they had come back. He wasn't important, he had laughed in that new self-deprecating way of his. It had been Steve's thing growing up and it hurt to hear Bucky use it now. Just like Bucky back then, he didn't really know how to respond, other than to frown and throw an arm over his shoulder as they moved on. But enough time hadn't passed, he guessed. They had been shopping; Bucky wanted more fruit. He loved all the tastes, marveled at the fruit they hadn't even heard of growing up but was readily available now. His basket had been loaded with them: nectarines, apricots, clementines, plums, pineapple, cantaloupe, each colour apple, and kiwis. They had been checking out, Bucky bagging them carefully, which frankly amused Steve to no end, when he had gone still, his head tilting to the side with a frown.
Steve saw her then: the basic pantsuit, the folder in one hand, phone recording in the other. His teeth grinding together in annoyance, Steve had grabbed Bucky's wrist, pulling him to the other exit. They had made it outside, before she caught up with them, calling out Bucky's given name. He felt Bucky twitch but stop with a sigh, head down, his hair falling around his face. She had started in on questions rapidly, Bucky staying quiet while looking down. She had questioned his integrity, things he'd done as Winter Soldier, if Stark's money had gotten him cleared. Steve had felt his anger rising seeing Bucky look like a petulant kid after doing something wrong. Only he hadn't done anything wrong, Hydra had. He had opened his mouth to tell her off, to go through the attorneys when it happened.
She pulled out that goddamn photo of that goddamned chair. "Are we really to believe this is what "forced you" to listen to former secretary Pierce?” she had asked sarcastically. Steve had felt the shift. Bucky hadn't moved but the stillness took over. His jaw shook minutely, eyes tight, breathing shallow and quick. She hadn't noticed the change, but Steve had. Bucky was caught between panic and memory, aware enough, or trained enough Steve thought sickeningly, not to show it. But Steve knew him, in the past and the him now. He knew the signs. He had all but snarled at the reporter, shoving past her to the car, dragging Bucky and pushing him into the passenger seat with his bags.
That had been two days ago and Bucky hadn't said a word since. Just sat, watching, prowling the apartment in Avenger Tower. He picked at the fruit and pastas Steve put in front of him, drank when given water, but didn't seek out anything for himself. It was even worse than when Steve had first gotten him back. Steve had caught him sleeping in the corner instead of his bed, waking immediately as Steve walked into the room. He was worried about this new development. Everyone thought he wanted Bucky back the way he was growing up, but they were wrong. Steve just wanted him to be happy, to be safe, he didn't care what form that took. He had taken the changes in Bucky during the war in stride, this was no different. People change, hell he changed, that didn't bother him. What bothered him was the silence, the reticence, the tightness in Bucky’s eyes and shoulders not being able to relax. The need to help him overwhelmed Steve, and he idly wondered if this was how Bucky felt, back growing up.
Steve walked into the living room, taking care to make enough noise to alert Bucky. He was standing by the window just off to the side, looking out over his shoulder. Staying out of line of sight, Steve realized sighing internally. Bucky knew how defended the tower was, how little could get through the windows and walls. He had sat with Tony going over everything, both of them tense, but willing to talk to ease Bucky's mind over security. If he was taking these extra precautions now, just what was he worried about in his mind, Steve wondered.
"Hey Buck," he greeted standing near him looking out over the city line. It really was amazing.
Bucky flicked his eyes at him and moved to stand facing him. Shielding him Steve realized, moving to the couches, to ease Bucky's worry. His lips twitched having seen the vague annoyance in his eyes, similar though subdued, as when Bucky called him out on his various stunts as he called them. That had been an, um, interestingly uncomfortable conversation, as Natasha filled Bucky in. He'd kept shifting as Bucky glared at him, both chastised and happy at the normalcy, the protectiveness being thrown at him. That didn't mean he would purposely make him uncomfortable just to see it, thus the couch.
He waited for Bucky to join him, watched Bucky's eyes flick from the couch to the floor to Steve, who kept a carefully neutral smile on his face. He wasn't going to give orders or suggestions here, Bucky had to learn he could make choices for himself again. Bucky settled on the floor by Steve’s legs and after a moment braced his arm on the couch.
Compromise Steve realized sighing internally. It was a step towards his autonomy so Steve wasn't really upset, just angry at why moments like these were the new norm. He reached out and started playing with Bucky's hair, something he knew Bucky liked. It seemed to comfort him if the half closed eyes and lessening of tension was anything to go by. Steve smiled at the simplicity and continued for a while silently, putting little braids and twists in the soft brown hair.
“Tony put that reporter on the ban list,” he said quietly not really wanting to break the moment.
Bucky shifted, a slight frown on his face, but bumped his head into Steve's hands willing him to continue. “That's not going to help.”
“It won't hurt though,” Steve replied just as quietly. Both of them sat in silence as the light faded from the sky, drinking in the comfort of one another's presence while lost in their own thoughts.
It was full dark before Bucky broke the silence with a broken whisper, “I'm trying Stevie. I really am.”
Steve's heart broke and he leaned over hugging Bucky gently, loose enough that he could leave if he wanted. “I know Buck. They have no right. I won't judge you. Not ever.” He promised with steel in his voice.
Bucky shoved himself into Steve's legs reaching up to hug his waist tightly, shivering but no tears fell. Steve tightened his arms trying to soothe him. It was a huge leap for Bucky, who rarely sought out touch now, and Steve poured all his feelings into the hug. He willed Bucky to know how cared for he was, how Steve would always stand by him. He couldn't be angry right now, he couldn't let Bucky think it was directed at him.
They stayed wrapped up in each other until Bucky fell asleep against Steve's thighs. Steve stared in saddened wonder, stroking his hair. Something had to give, something had to change, he just didn't know how.