Work Text:
Bucky’s morning started the way it always did. He woke up early to prepare his boyfriend’s breakfast, got his clothes set out for the day, and packed his lunch.
And then he waited for Rumlow to tear it all apart. Because it wasn’t going to be good enough. It never was. No matter how hard Bucky tried to be the perfect boyfriend, Rumlow always found flaws in everything he did. And when Bucky messed up, he had to be punished.
By now, he was an expert at using stage make-up to cover the bruises.
Rumlow eyed the plate Bucky set in front of him. “Is this bacon burnt?”
Bucky cringed. “I’ll cook you another slice.”
“Don’t bother. You’ll probably just burn it again.” Rumlow picked the slice from his plate and tossed it vaguely in the direction of the sink. It landed on the counter with a splat. “Clean that up.”
Bucky hurried to comply.
“And you didn’t put enough salt in these eggs,” Rumlow growled. “How do you expect me to pass my classes without a good breakfast to start the day?”
“I’m sorry,” Bucky apologized. “I’ll remake everything.” He scrambled back to the stove. “I want you to do well in all your classes.”
“I’m sure you’re failing all of your classes,” Rumlow said. “You’re probably not cut out for college if you can’t even make breakfast right. It’s a waste of money.”
Bucky sucked in a breath. His classes were the one thing that got him out of the house everyday and if Rumlow didn’t allow him to go back, he didn’t know how he’d survive. “I…it’s the middle of the semester. It’d be a waste of money not to finish.”
Rumlow arched an eyebrow and Bucky took a step back. “But you know best, of course.”
“Should’ve had you drop at the beginning of the semester,” Rumlow muttered. “Instead of wasting more time and money on useless performing arts classes. Don’t know why you decided to major in dance. It’s one of the most useless degrees in the world. But silly me, I thought maybe dance training would help you be more flexible in the bedroom. And you can’t even do that right.”
“I’ll be better,” Bucky swore as he plated his second attempt at Rumlow’s breakfast.
Rumlow rolled his eyes. “You should really be at home, thinking about how to be a better boyfriend. But you’re right. The money’s already spent. Might as well finish out your useless degree.”
“Thank you, sir,” Bucky said, feeling his chest lighten. “You won’t regret this.”
“I already do.” He gave Bucky an appraising look. “Well, what are you standing around for? You don’t want to be late for your class, do you?”
Bucky swallowed. “I have half an hour before class. Can I just-”
“No. You’ve wasted enough food already this morning.”
Bucky put his head down. He had suspected that would be the answer, but it still hurt.
He took his time in the bathroom, making sure his appearance was presentable and then waited for Rumlow to retrieve his keys from behind the counter.
“Make sure you’re back by three,” Rumlow warned. “You’re cooking tonight.”
Bucky nodded. His last class got out at 2:30 so he’d really have to rush to make it home in time. He’d probably have to leave a few minutes early.
“Should I stop at the store for more bread?” He knew better than to head to the store without permission. Rumlow always knew where he was at all times and he went ballistic if Bucky went anywhere he hadn’t authorized.
“Nope. You just get your ass home and I’ll take care of everything else.”
It was a long day without breakfast to sustain him. And he didn’t have money to spare to get something from the vending machines. The only thing keeping him going was the fear of disappointing Rumlow again.
He had to keep his grades up to prove that he belonged in college and he had to spend more time at home learning how to be a better boyfriend. The juggling act was getting harder and harder.
He was so preoccupied worrying about his situation that he wasn’t watching where he was going and he bumped into a muscular blond in the hallway, sending papers flying everywhere.
“I’m so sorry,” Bucky said as he scrambled to pick up all the blond’s papers. “I’ll make it up to you somehow. I could buy you lunch or-”
“No big deal,” the blond said. He shuffled everything back into his binder. “Oh, actually, I have something of yours.” He held out a paper.
It was a flyer on domestic violence.
Bucky tightened his grip on his backpack. “You don’t know me,” he hissed. “You don’t know what I’m going through.”
“You’re right, I don’t. But I’d like to. I’m Steve. Steve Rogers.”
The once-familiar joke of “James, but I’m Bucky to all my friends” felt foreign in his mouth now. How long had it been since he had a friend?
Rumlow didn’t allow him to have anyone over. He needed the apartment completely silent for his studies. And since he was in pre-law, which a more rigorous and more important major than Bucky’s, his need for quiet trumped Bucky’s need for friendship. And when Rumlow had started complaining that he was spending too much time out and not enough time with him, he saw his friends less and less. And eventually they stopped inviting him out altogether.
“Well, nice to meet you, Bucky,” Steve said. “I know what it’s like, trust me. And you don’t have to put up with this kind of thing.”
Bucky snorted. Steve didn’t know shit. He was a big guy. Nobody would ever mess with him.
“I don’t want to keep you too long. Your partner will be upset if you’re late, right?”
Bucky nodded tightly, his eyes watering. Maybe Steve did understand.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Steve said comfortingly. “I’m here to help. There’s a small group of us that meets once a week. If you can spin it as a study group to your partner, we’ll be happy to have you. You can park your car in the school parking lot and get a ride with one of us. We’ll help you make a plan to get out and get you hooked up with other people that can help. But obviously, don’t come if it’s going to put your safety in jeopardy.”
“I…I might be able to convince him,” Bucky said hesitantly.
“That’s the spirit. This is my card. Feel free to call me anytime.” He flipped it over. “Or you can call Sam Wilson. He’s the one who helped me get out a couple years ago.”
“Thank you,” Bucky whispered, clutching the card to his chest.
Steve winked at him. “Keep it secret. Keep it safe.”
“I…I have to go,” Bucky said urgently. “I’m going to be late.”
“Of course.” Steve took a step back. “It’s not going to be easy, but you’re going to make it. And I’ll be there with you till the end of the line.”