Work Text:
“Just let me do this by myself, would you?” Bucky’s tone was harsher than he’d intended but Peter’s incessant hovering was driving him crazy. He’d lost an arm, not his brain. “If I can’t muddle my way through it, I’ll call for you, but the physical therapist said I need to start trying to do more things independently.”
Peter raised his hands in surrender and backed away. “Sure. OK. Whatever you want. I’ll just—I’ll leave you to it.”
Bucky positioned the Sock-Assist between his knees, grabbed a sock from the bed next to him and began the process of wriggling it onto the aid. It wasn’t hard, just more time consuming than usual. Next came jeans, with a heavy-duty button aid, and slip-on shoes. He wasn’t in the mood to try dealing with his boots today because they hadn’t changed the laces over yet and he couldn’t do those by himself. He figured it was OK to give himself a break occasionally.
Getting his t-shirt on wasn’t that hard, but his wound was still tender, and he was surprised by how much the stretching as he pulled the t-shirt over his head tugged on the wound. More slow work with a smaller button aid came as he added a button-down shirt, deciding he was going to forgo tucking everything in, particularly because he realised he’d forgotten to thread his new made-for-one-handed-people belt through the belt loops of his jeans before putting his jeans on.
By the time he’d finished his other morning care activities, he was sore and tired. As much as anything, it was the mental exhaustion of everything taking so much longer and having to plan his activities in a particular order that was weighing him down.
He sat down in the armchair in the living room to watch some tv for a bit.
Forty minutes later, he woke up to find a still steaming cup of coffee and a Danish sitting on the coffee table in front of him.
Peter was nowhere to be seen and for that, Bucky was grateful. He knew his husband was just being thoughtful, but the fact that Peter had seen him asleep in his chair like an old man, when all he’d had to do was get dressed, hurt somewhere deep inside. There was also the fact that getting something to eat and drink were both things Bucky could do for himself, but they took extra time and effort he didn’t want to expend right now and he was both grateful and ashamed as he picked up his cup. Not to mention jealous that it was so easy for Peter. The work of a moment.
Bucky took a deep breath and blew it out on a sigh. There was no quick fix here. He wasn’t magically going to get better overnight and they both knew it. As painful as it was, he was going to have to face these feelings. He took another steadying breath.
“Peter?” he called.