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“James,” Wanda murmured, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder as he gasped and flailed. “Hey,” she continued, giving him a nudge as she shook the sleep from her own eyes.
With all of her strength she urged Bucky into a sitting position. His eyes flew open then, darting unseeing around the dark hut. Wanda gave him a moment to acclimate, pressing a palm to his cheek, directing his line of sight back to herself.
“It’s alright. You’re safe,” she said as his eyes finally settled on her and his breathing almost immediately began to even. Quickly, Wanda turned and flipped on the bedside lamp.
Once Bucky had gotten his bearing, he let out a sign and have her an apologetic look. His eyes caught the clock just over her shoulder. 3:15 a.m. With a huff, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and pushed back to the sheets, leaving her alone in bed. “I’m sorry.”
“Where are you going?” Wanda called after him, causing him to freeze.
When he turned back to face her, his expression was grim, “I’m just gonna...sleep on the couch. I’m sorry I woke you, Doll; just go back to sleep.”
“No. No, James, you don’t have to...do you need to talk about it?” she asked softly. This had been his first night terror in nearly a month and it had been one of the worst. Bucky was clearly still shaken.
“No, I don’t,” he said shortly, “I just want you to get back to sleep.”
“James,” Wanda said pointedly, tone cutting through the quiet of the Wakandan night as she held a hand out for him, “Come back to bed.”
It didn’t take too much convincing anymore. It had in the beginning; it took months of him moving to the lumpy couch in the corner of his hut before she’d finally been able to convince him to stay with her. Now, though, all it took was an outstretched palm to will him back to bed.
Wanda pushed herself to the headboard as Bucky crawled back in alongside her and she tossed the duvet over top of the both of them. He crowded in close as she gathered him to her chest, her lips pressed to his temple and fingers carding through his hair. “I’ve got you.”
And she’d meant that wholeheartedly. In truth, they very much had each other. In the early days after the Raft, when she’d suffered from panic attacks in tight spaces, or in the dark, or around open water, he’d been there to help her through. He’d help her through her waking hours and she’d help him overcome his long, sleepless nights. Over some months their camaraderie had blossomed into something truly unique. Special, even.
“Thank you...”
“None of that,” Wanda insisted, her eyes meeting his in a meaningful gaze, “We are in this together. You and me.”