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You don’t want to get out of bed. In your defense, it’s a very nice bed. Everything in Stark Tower is the definition of luxury. But it doesn’t help your desire to remove yourself from your fluffy black comforter and sheets.
It feels like there are invisible tethers holding your body to the mattress. Your boyfriend has already gotten out of bed, gone to the gym, and come back and showered. And you feel useless and miserable lying with the sheets pulled up to your chin and the lights in the room turned off.
You know that you should go into your shared bathroom and take your morning meds. The meds specifically made for your enhanced biology by Bruce to manage your depression.
You’ve had depression since you were a teenager and have always had to deal with it on your own. You never let it get in the way of taking care of what needed to be done, but the past two years after joining the Avengers have been hard. Even with the most supportive boyfriend imaginable.
You hear the door to the bathroom open up and moments later the other side of your bed dips down and a warm arm wraps around your body as the cold metal of his other arm lays against your back.
“You ready to get up doll? It’s gettin’ close to noon.”
“Ungh, no Buck” you groan. You’re not anywhere close to being able to get out of bed, no matter what the hour is. With the mention of moving, the tethers of your depression seem to constrict even more.
You feel his hair fall against your shoulder as his warm lips brush the back of your neck. Bucky presses his body up against yours so he’s cradling your whole frame, his leg thrown over yours and his arms holding your close.
“How ‘bout if I bring up some breakfast?”
You close your eyes and quietly sigh with resignation. He isn’t going to stop. He smiles against your shoulder and leans over to kiss your cheek.
“I’ll be back in just a second sugar, the teams already done the cookin’. How ‘bout you take your meds for me?”
Yeah, the meds that aren’t supposed to let you feel like this. The meds that you’ve already been taking for three weeks now and haven’t fixed anything yet.
The warmth from your back disappears as Bucky gets off the bed and you keep your eyes closed as you hear his footsteps retreat. You start to lose your grip on staying awake, your eyelids just feel so heavy. You startle awake when a cold finger runs across your cheek. Your eyes snap open to stare into Bucky’s steel blue eyes. He’s got a glass of water sitting on your nightstand and his flesh hand holds your pale yellow pills.
Sometimes it surprises you that he can’t actually read your mind.
“Give ‘em time. Bruce said they could take up to a month ‘an a half to get working. Just give ‘em some more time baby.” His minty fresh breath fans over you face and you let him pull the comforter further down from you head.
In one swift movement Bucky pulls your body into his arms and sits on the side of the bed with you in his lap. He hands you the glass of water and you take it apprehensively.
“Just a little more time sugar, you’ve gotta’ believe in Bruce.”
You do trust Bruce. He’s always been there for you, from your first tour of the tower, and everyone else on the team trusts him too.
The pills go down easily but leave a bitter taste and you scrunch up your mouth. Bucky takes the glass and puts it down before leaning in and fierecly kissing away your frustration. All of your worries melt away as Bucky flips your position and you’re pressed into the bed with Bucky propping himself up on his metal arm, his lower body pinning you in place.
You half-heartedly try and push him off of you, wanting to retreat back under you covers and not face the day and your friends.
“No no no doll, don’t go hiding from me.” To prove his message he grabs your wrists and pins them up on your pillow above your head, stretching out your upper body. His large physique always makes you feel small and protected, like whatever comes up, he’ll take care of it if you ask him to.
His large muscles ripple as he starts kissing down your temple to you neck where he busies himself with marking up your clear skin with love marks. He takes his hand off of your wrists and leans back after a few minutes of paying dedicated attention to your neck.
“You know I love you, right? I love you so much.”
You instantly tear up as contained emotions surface. The past few days have been extraordinarily hard, both mentally and physically as you had returned from a failed mission less than a week ago. Your cries turn into sobs as your body curls up under Bucky, seeking protection from the world outside of your sheets.
Bucky carefully moves his body so that he’s curled around your shaking frame with the blankets pulled up over both of your heads, entirely blocking out the rest of your room and everything else in sight. His arms fully encircle your waist and he readjusts you both so that your head lies on his chest.
“Oh darlin’ it’s okay. It’s all okay. You’re safe here baby, you’re safe with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He whispers into your ear as he runs his finger tips in small circles on your back. He’s so sweet, dedicated, and sincere and it makes you cry harder, thinking that you don’t deserve him. You don’t deserve anything this nice and pure.
In a futile attempt to listen to the persistent voices in your head you use some of your strength to push yourself away from Bucky, but instead of gaining distance between the two of you, he holds onto you tighter. You cry even harder as the weight of your depression settles on your heart.
Bucky flexes his muscles to hold you in place but after a moment you give up and let your hot tears fall onto his skin. It’s so frustrating to know that even after all of these years your depression can reduce you to a crying mess. That despite the therapists you’ve seen and the medications you’ve taken, every once in awhile you break down.
“Shhh sweetheart, I love you so much. You’re safe with me.”
You hate letting anyone see you like this, especially the team, and despite being your boyfriend, Bucky too. You’re weak like this; crumpled up like a piece of discarded paper. You’re supposed to be a superhero, with increased strength and speed. You’re supposed to be an Avenger; ready to face whatever the universe throws at you.
But in moments like this, as you fall down to the bottom of your soul, you’re not a hero or an Avenger, you’re just a scared girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders. And to know that you can’t be what the world needs is frightening. You revert back to that scared little girl in her bed at home, late at night adding new red lines to her already expanding collection of white scars. You hate feeling this vulnerable.
You spend so much time fighting physical monsters that the mental demons sneak up on you.
Your voice wavers as you speak, “I’m trying Buck. I promise I’m trying.”
He kisses the top of your head and takes a deep breath. “I know you’re tryin’ sweetheart. You always try so hard. But you don’t need to bottle it up all the time. It’s okay to let it all out.” His voice wraps around you like another blanket and you lean into him more. “You’re always so strong. I know you’re as strong as me and Steve, but sometimes we all need a break. We’re still only human baby.”
After a decent amount of time your crying quiets and Bucky pulls back, enough to turn you around so you’re face to face now.
“Better?”
“Yeah” and you aren’t entirely lying, you do feel a little better after crying and being held by him.
“Just remember-” Bucky’s voice is quiet and gentle, his breath warm under the blankets in your little cave. “We aren’t supposed to be heroes all of the time.”