Work Text:
--- 1 ---
“What do you want for breakfast?” Steve asks for the fifth time that morning.
“No.” Bucky answers once again. He doesn’t want food. He is way too stressed out. He has a tightly packed schedule for the next week, too many appointments and too many places to be.
It’s overwhelming.
“You have to eat something.” Steve leans against the counter in their kitchen, looking deflated.
“I’m not hungry.” Bucky lies. He loves the empty feeling in his stomach. He knows he isn’t supposed to, but he does. Some wires got crossed at some point, making him think hungry is good and full is bad.
“You know that’s not how it works-” Steve cuts himself off. Bucky knows exactly what he was about to say; when recovering from an eating disorder. You can’t just not eat a meal, even if you aren’t hungry.
“Then how does it work?” Bucky asks, daring Steve to say the words out loud.
“If you don’t pick, I will.” Steve looks determined, and sad.
Bucky groans. The though of eating anything off of that stupid meal plan makes his stomach twist with anxiety.
“It’s just this once Steve.” Bucky rests his forehead on the table he’s sitting at, sick of having this argument.
“Yeah, just this once. And just this once tomorrow, and the day after that, and suddenly you’re down a dress size.”
Bucky cringes at the mention of dress sizes. He doesn’t need a reminder of how much he’s gained because of that stupid meal plan.
“Steve.” Bucky whines, leaning so far back on his chair it might fall over. He’s madder at himself than anything. Why can’t he just be a normal person and eat breakfast? Why does he need an empty stomach to deal with stress?
“Bucky.” Steve whines back, imitating him. “I’ll give you two options, okay?”
“Not okay.” Bucky snaps back. He had hoped for an easy way out of eating, that maybe for once Steve would accept the fact that he isn’t hungry. He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.
“Fine.” Steve throws his hands up. For a moment Bucky’s heart flutters in his chest.
“I’ll make you eggs on toast with juice and yoghurt.” Bucky groans, his heart dropping.
“Who the fuck eats eggs with yoghurt?” He scrunches his face up. The thought alone making him feel sick.
“What do you want then?” Steve sounds so done with him. Bucky feels bad that they have to fight over his food intake all the time. It stresses them both out. Day in and day out.
The fighting is putting a tension between them that Bucky never wanted them to have. Being with Steve has always been so easy, effortless. But now, because of Bucky, it’s hard and it’s exhausting.
“I’ll have the yoghurt.” Bucky gives in, just wanting to be done.
“And?” Steve prompts, mover to the fridge and retrieving the yoghurt.
“Cereal?” Bucky’s voice goes up at the end, making it sound like a question.
Steve gets the cereal without a word. Thankfully, Steve is a health nut, so they only have sugar free cereals. The bowl is practically slammed onto the counter before Steve pours the cereal.
There’s a lump forming in Bucky’s throat as he sees the bowl fill. He doesn’t say anything, already feeling bad about being so difficult. Numbers swirl around in his head as he tries to figure out how many grams of cereal is in the bowl.
Steve pours too much milk into the bowl and when he opens the yoghurt, he scrapes the small amount on the lid back into the cup. To top it all off, Steve fills a big glass almost to the rim with orange juice.
Bucky is fighting back tears when Steve puts the food in front of him.
“Thanks.” He mutters thickly.
“Hey.” Steve takes Bucky’s hand as he sits down beside him. “You know I’m just doing what’s best for you, right?” His voice is softer and kinder than before.
“Yeah.” Bucky sighs. He knows, it’s just so hard to do the thing that is good for him.
--- 2 ---
After a few weeks of fighting over breakfast, Bucky realized that Steve has no way of really knowing if Bucky ate lunch or not. The fighting and Bucky’s illness has taken a toll on their relationship, and Bucky wants everything to go back to the way it was before.
So, for the past couple weeks he’s happily eaten breakfast, not complaining, or whining or starting fights. Steve looks relieved every morning when Bucky accepts the food without a word.
Bucky feels guilty for lying to Steve, it’s growing like a tumor in his gut, adding a new layer every time he skips lunch while Steve is at work.
His phone lights up with a message.
Steve: How’s lunch?
Bucky sighs, knowing he has to respond with a picture. He gets the pancakes Steve left in the fridge, reheating them quickly in the microwave. They have chocolate chips, making Bucky’s mouth water. He misses chocolate. And greasy food, and cake, and potato chips, and just enjoying food in general.
He cuts up some fruit to have with his pancakes and makes it all look nice on a plate. Snapping a picture, he sends it to Steve with just a smiley face. Steve will be suspicious if Bucky sounds too optimistic. He learned that the hard way.
Steve replies with a smiley face and a heart. Bucky rolls his eyes at how his heart flutters in his chest. Then he stuffs the food in a small plastic bag, tying it and taking it out.
It has to look like Bucky ate when Steve comes home. He knows Steve checks, so Bucky always prepares a meal before throwing it out. He doesn’t know that Steve is above going through the trash, so he throws it in the dumpsters outside.
He feels bad for wasting so much food when there are so many people in the world starving because they don’t have access to food. Just one more thing to add to his guilt tumor.
Bucky knows he could choose to eat; it wouldn’t be the end of the world. He is so sick of being hungry and constantly thinking about food, worrying himself sick over how much he eats in a day.
Starving was supposed to help him tackle his anxiety, but lately it has been the source of his anxiety.
Having to hide his behaviors from Steve while always stressing over what to do when Steve is home is exhausting. Something in their relationship has shifted. Bucky feels Steve pull away, slipping between his fingers, and it’s all because of Bucky’s stupid eating disorder.
He can’t keep living like this for much longer. He knows he’s approaching his breaking point, fast. Something needs to change, even if change is incredibly terrifying.
Bucky looks back at the fridge. There are still a few pancakes sitting on a plate on the other side of that metal door. He stares at it, trying to decide if he’s strong enough to take the first step today. Just thinking about how good the pancakes with chocolate chips tastes makes his mouth water.
He sends a text to Steve, deciding he probably isn’t able to think rationally when it comes to food.
Bucky: Am I strong enough?
Steve: I have no doubt that you are.
That is that then, Bucky is strong enough to take the first step today. He crosses the room and opens the fridge, his stomach cramping in hunger as he takes out the pancakes. He should listen to his body, right? His body tells him what it needs, he should stop ignoring it.
--- 3 ---
Changing is harder to do than he thought. After his ‘epiphany’ about listening to what his body tells him it needs, he thought recovery would be easier. He had himself convinced he was in control for so long, he genuinely thought he could just decide to stop, and he would stop.
He’s been through enough therapy in his life to know that’s not how it works, but he still got his hopes up.
Steve has stopped asking Bucky what he wants, accepting the fact that Bucky will never say he wants anything Steve deems acceptable as a meal. Instead, Steve chooses what they both eat for every meal, and Bucky reluctantly eats what is served to him.
When Steve comes home with two pizza boxes for dinner one night, Bucky’s heartbeat picks up speed. Immediately numbers start filling his head, of how much is in the crust, in the sauce, the toppings, the cheese. He’s moments from breaking out in a sweat when Steve snaps his fingers in Bucky’s face.
“Anyone home?” Steve asks jokingly. Bucky doesn’t know how long he stared off into space, probably too long judging from Steve’s reaction.
Bucky smiles up at him, nodding, not trusting his voice. He focuses on coming back to the moment, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. His therapist keeps telling him this fear will subside. Every time he eats, he shows his anxiety that it’s okay, that it’s safe, and eventually his body will believe it.
He looks forward to the day his heart races in a positive way when thinking about food. That sounds like such a great, freeing feeling he wishes he had access to.
“Ready for dinner?” Steve asks cheerily. He’s in an oddly good mood today. Their relationship has been healing over the past few weeks as well. It’s like Bucky’s eating disorder was building a wall between them, and Bucky is slowly taking it back down as he works on his recovery.
“Starving.” Bucky says without emotion. That word doesn’t mean the same as it used to, and Bucky flinches at the reminder.
“But are you ready?” Steve asks again, just as cheerily. Bucky’s never ready for a meal, hungry, sure, but wanting to eat? He’s not there yet.
“Am I ever?”
“I’ll try again. Would pre-ED Bucky be ready?” Steve doesn’t give up, he knows what answer he wants, and Bucky won’t get out of it. Steve’s positivity is refreshing.
“He’d be over the moon.” Bucky says softly, the reminder of how good life can be both painful and hopeful.
“Do you know what that means?” Bucky rolls his eyes as Steve sets up the pizzas on the table. “You are ready.”
“The whole pizza?” Bucky doesn’t think he’ll physically be able to do that. This won’t make for a positive experience with food if he eats himself sick.
They dig in. Bucky eats slower than Steve, counting how many bites it takes to finish each slice, and how many times he chews each bite. His mind insists on being filled with numbers, so he tries to distract himself with the meaningless numbers instead of the anxiety inducing ones.
Bucky is halfway through his pizza, and the voices in his head are getting louder. He feels full, but he can’t trust that it’s real. It could be in his head, making him feel full so he won’t eat any more. The numbers are getting scarily high, rising with every bite he takes.
It gets harder and harder to make himself take bites, chew, and swallow, like his body is physically fighting against it.
Bucky groans, throwing the rest of the slice he’s holding back in the box.
“What?” Steve asks concerned.
“I can’t.” Bucky whines, covering his face with his hands. He wanted to do it; he wanted the voices to leave him alone while he enjoyed some pizza.
“Because you-?”
“I cannot physically make myself eat any more.” Bucky cuts him off, letting out his frustration.
“You tried.” Steve says, trying to comfort him.
“But I want the rest!” Bucky says louder than he meant to. He didn’t realize how true it is until he said it out loud. Steve moves closer to him, scooting his chair across the floor.
“We’ll put it in the fridge, you can finish it later.”
“Really?” Bucky is surprised that Steve isn’t pushing him to eat. Maybe he really has been making progress. Maybe Steve trusts him more. It’s a sad thought, that Bucky’s issues caused Steve not to trust him anymore. But they are rebuilding that trust.
--- 4 ---
“Have you eaten today?” Steve asks not even five minutes after getting home.
Bucky doesn’t reply. He hasn’t eaten, and he hates himself for it. He doesn’t know when, but at some point, not eating went from something he thought he chose to do, to something that controlled him.
He’s had a tough week. He can’t stop thinking about everything he missed out on. He was always there for Steve and for his sisters. Every milestone, no matter how small or big, he was there. And then the war happened, and suddenly a whole lifetime had passed and bucky wasn’t there.
He knows it’s normal to go through periods of grief when you have trauma. But this, grieving over a whole lifetime, it’s too much.
Whenever he starts thinking of all the milestones in his sisters’ lives, all the moments they needed their brother, all the things he wishes he could say to them, he is overwhelmed by the emotions that follow.
Bucky only knows one way to deal with how overwhelming life is sometimes, and that is food. He wishes it wasn’t that way, but it is. And sometimes he gives in to it.
“Bucky?” Steve asks again, moving closer to him.
“I’m broken.” Bucky surprises himself. He wasn’t planning on telling Steve about his little problem that is actually a huge issue. He’s been doing so well with his recovery; he’s been happy. When he’s happy it’s the easiest to stay on track. It’s when the little bumps in the road come up that he sometimes stumbles and falls.
“What?” Steve looks surprised. He moves over to Bucky and pulls him into a hug. “Why do you think that?”
“Because I can’t do this one basic part of being a functioning human fucking being.” Bucky mumbles into Steve’s chest. He wraps his arms around Steve’s chest, letting himself be submerged in the comforting warmth and safety of Steve’s embrace.
“You didn’t eat, did you?” Steve asks, not sounding disappointed or angry at all. It surprises Bucky. He expected Steve to be mad, to start a fight, or lecture him like he’s a child. But Steve is too good for that, he should’ve known.
Bucky shakes his head, feeling his eyes well up. He’s so frustrated. Why can’t recovery just happen because he wants it? Why does he have to fight so hard all the time? It’s exhausting.
“Why is it so easy to slip back there?” He lets the tears fall. “A few bad days and I’m right back to the beginning.” He feels defeated. It spreads through him like poison, painting everything dark.
“But you’re not back there, are you?” Steve holds him even closer. “You told me. You wouldn’t’ve done that a couple months ago.”
Bucky feels himself being pulled out of the dark again. These mood swings are going to give him whiplash. He’s in a constant limbo, teetering on the edge of light and dark, never sure where he’ll end up.
“You want to change, right?”
“You know I do.” Bucky uses Steve’s shirt to wipe his eyes, earning him an exasperated look.
“And it will, but we have to be patient.” The way Steve says ‘we’ helps him feel less alone. Like he doesn’t have to stand in this fight on his own. “Change doesn’t happen over night no matter how much we want it. We fight for it because we know it’s worth it. And I’ll be there with you every step of the way.”
“Yeah.” Bucky says faintly, giving himself a moment to process what Steve just said.
“We can set up an extra appointment with your therapist?” Steve suggests gently. Bucky thinks about it. He already goes there once a week, but when he went a couple days ago, he didn’t want to talk about what was bothering him. Maybe an extra appointment won’t hurt.
He nods again, this time more certainly. He can’t stop fighting because of a few bad days. It’s in these hard times it’s especially important to fight.
“So, what do you want to eat?”
Bucky smiles up at him. He really is starving. And he wants to eat.
--- 5 ---
Seeing his body change through his recovery is possibly the hardest part. He’s filling out, growing bigger, looking less malnourished every week. At first the change was fast. He felt like there was a new, bigger person looking back at him every time he caught a glimpse in the mirror.
Nowadays it happens slower. He’ll just start getting comfortable in his new body when he realizes he’s gained even more weight. And the worst part is that he isn’t even sure he’s actually gained. He knows he doesn’t see what he really looks like in the mirror, that he’s smaller than what he sees.
When he looks in the mirror and can see a visible change, it doesn’t really matter if it’s real or not. It still crushes him, leaving him tempted to try losing again.
Rationally, he knows he can’t do that. He can’t dance with the devil and expect a happy outcome.
But why not? The voice in his head whines. Why can’t he be careful with what he eats to lose a little bit of weight? Why can’t he just not eat a meal because he isn’t hungry? Why can’t he skip breakfast when he wakes up late?
He gets so tired sometimes. It’s hard to do the thing that’s best for him because it craves more of his energy and mental capacity. I would be easier to give in. But he doesn’t really want that. And he doesn’t want to be sick like was.
He certainly doesn’t miss constantly freezing no matter how much he layered, or lying to Steve constantly, or the hunger pains, or hunger in general, or the fights over what he would eat, or the look on Steve’s face when Bucky was being difficult.
When he struggles, it’s that face that keeps him going. When he wants to give in, to go back, to stop fighting, he sees the look of grief and hurt on Steve’s face as Bucky chose his addiction over their love.
He can’t do that to Steve again. He has to keep fighting. Even when he can’t fight for himself, he can fight for Steve. He will always fight for Steve.
Bucky sighs, turning away from the mirror. He’s amazed at how many thoughts can go through someone’s mind in a matter of seconds. He has this discussion with himself every time. To anyone else, it’s so quick they can’t even tell somethings going on.
He pulls on his baggy clothes, preferring to hide himself, and walks over to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.
--- +1 ---
“Did he fucking say that?” Bucky asks no one in particular. He’s staring blankly into the air, standing outside his GP’s office. “Did he just fucking say that?” He repeats incredulously.
Steve stays silent behind him, giving him space to think. They had a doctor’s appointment because Bucky needed to get tested for hay fever. That’s why they came today. No other reason.
“He fucking-” Bucky trails off, struggling to believe what his doctor said. The doctor he has seen through his whole eating disorder recovery. The one who knows how much he’s struggled to get better. “Told me to watch what I eat. Did you hear him?” Bucky turns to Steve.
“Yeah, Buck.” Steve looks sad and scared.
Are you still taking your medications? He had asked. To which Bucky replied yes, of course. Just remember that it heightens your feeling of hunger, but not your metabolism. So be careful what you eat and make sure to not eat more than your body needs.
“What the fuck?” Bucky grows angrier with every moment. How dare he tell Bucky to watch what he eats? To tell someone with an eating disorder to watch what they eat? Bucky turns on his heels, storming down the street.
“Where are you going?” Steve calls after him, jogging to keep up with Bucky’s pace.
“To get pizza.” Bucky half-shuts. His heart is racing from the anger, but also in anticipation of the cheesy, greasy amazingness that is pizza. His transformation has been huge. Going from being terrified of food, to being a true foodie. He had forgotten how food can be such a great part of his life.
“What?” Steve asks, surprised.
“And then I’m gonna eat it. The whole fucking thing.” Bucky is furious. No one will ever tell him what he can and can’t eat again. He’s gone too many years restricting himself, denying himself what is human nature. He will eat what he wants when he wants. It’s simple.
“He shouldn’t have said that.” Steve says, still trying to keep up with Bucky. “Are you okay?”
Bucky stops for a moment, turning to face Steve.
“Am I okay?” He pretends to think about it for a moment. “I’m great Steve.”
Steve still looks unsure, like he’s scared this will lead to a setback in Bucky’s recovery.
“And I’m fucking starving.” Bucky says as he turns and keeps marching to the pizza place. Never again will anyone but him decide what he eats. No Hydra handlers, no stupid GPs, no voices in his head, not Steve, not anyone but him.