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Steve woke long before the rays of hazy dawn light could be caught in the hideously charming curtains. Their bed in the cozy New England Bed & Breakfast was shaking. And though the injuries he’d sustained during battle weren’t life-threatening the way they might be for a normal human, that didn’t mean the bruised ribs and broken leg didn’t hurt. But what hurt more was seeing Bucky sitting on the edge of the bed, shaking as he tried—somewhat unsuccessfully—to hold back his emotions.
So Steve sat up, wincing. As he tried to reach out to Bucky, there was a sharp jolt of pain in his chest, and he hissed with the intake of a breath. Instinctively, he curled forward and covered the spot with his hand, as if holding it might somehow soothe his insides.
Having heard the sound, Bucky turned. His cheeks and chin were wet with tears. He lifted his regular hand and wiped quickly, but Steve had seen. And Steve couldn’t forget. “Are you all right?” Bucky asked, sniffling.
Steve paused a moment, the instinct to reply that he was fine being overwritten by honesty and those stunning, deep eyes staring at him. “Not really,” he whispered. “You?”
Bucky shook his head. “Not really,” he echoed, his voice breaking. He swiped at his cheeks with both hands now. The silent tears kept coming, even as he redoubled his efforts to stop them. He pressed his lips together, puffed his chest with a held breath, and squeezed his eyes shut.
“Aw, Buck. I can’t get to you. You gotta come to me this time.” It was all Steve could do to lift his arm and invite Bucky to lie back down.
Bucky hesitated before leaning over, lying on his side on the bed, his back to Steve with about a foot of space between them. Steve wasn’t at all sure how to handle this. Give him Nazis or alien monsters or Hydra agents, and he knew what to do. Captain America was a fighter. But fighting things on the inside were a little different. He had to keep reminding himself about his own internal injuries; trying to help Bucky with whatever was going on in his head made Steve feel miles away from his comfort zone.
He raised his hand to stroke Bucky’s back, but dropped it to the mattress before making contact. He didn’t want to startle the man with a touch and have him lash out. Struggling in bed with the white wolf wasn’t how Steve wanted to spend his night; after the battle they’d been through, his body really did need rest in order to heal. But, with his shoulders shaking with sobs, Bucky didn’t look like his white wolf persona right now. This wasn’t a strong survivor in bed beside him. “Hey,” Steve said, his voice soft, steady. “Do you need to go back to Wakanda?”
Bucky gave a start, apparently he hadn’t expected that. They could contact T’Challa and his people. They could get a jet sent right here in the middle of the night.
But Bucky shook his head. He took a deep breath and let it out shakily. “S-sometimes when I sleep, I’m back in the chamber, losing my mind, my will, my control. And when I wake up…” He trailed off as another sob overpowered him. He gave into it, curling up on himself, tucking his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs.
Steve tried to finish for him. “And when you wake up, you’re scared you might hurt someone again?”
Around the sobbing, and in a barely audible whisper, Bucky managed to reply, “I’m afraid I might hurt you!”
Oh. Steve smiled. This… this was something he could handle. He reached out again, putting a hand on Bucky’s back. The man startled but didn’t shake it off. Steve rubbed up and down until Bucky’s shoulders relaxed, until the strong sobs passed. The man rolled over in place, still swiping at his cheeks. And though Steve knew he wasn’t, Bucky looked weak and vulnerable like this. “You’re not going to hurt me,” Steve said the moment Bucky’s eyes dared to meet his.
“I might. Sniff! That dragon did a number on you already.”
“Not going to argue that point. But even broken, I can handle whatever it is you’re struggling with.” He paused for a beat as he gently pushed strands of dark hair back from Bucky’s face. “At least let me carry it with you.”
Bucky considered this for a few excruciatingly long moments. Then he inched forward on the bed. He moved in close, pressing up against Steve’s side but avoiding making contact with the areas where Steve was injured. But Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky, pulling him closer. He didn’t care how much it hurt him. Seeing Bucky in pain was far worse to endure than bruised ribs and broken bones. Bucky buried his face into Steve’s chest, his wet cheek rubbing against Steve’s bare skin.
“When…” Bucky swallowed hard and tried again. “When I’m in Wakanda, I feel protected. I feel like I’m safe from the world and it’s safe from me.”
With a minimal amount of difficulty, Steve’s arm wrapped around Bucky. His hand stroked the man’s arm.
“It’s the same feeling I have when I’m with you.”
Steve tightened his hold, biting his lower lip and bearing the physical discomfort that movement brought. He continued to stroke Bucky’s arm, feeling it growing warm from his touch. He also felt Bucky yawn and startle as his body tried to drift back off to sleep only to be pulled awake again. “It’s all right,” Steve whispered, dropping a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head. “Just let yourself fall back to sleep, Buck. I’ll watch over you. I’ll keep you safe.”
Bucky raised his head, looking up into Steve’s eyes for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and snuggled back into place. He was asleep in no time.