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They had been in the air for eight grueling hours and normally Bucky would have thought nothing of it, but after that shit show of a mission, he just wanted to go home.
It also didn’t help that he had Sam Wilson sitting across the aisle trying to engage in a staring match with him.
He chose to stare straight into the floor, silently counting down the minutes until they would reach the helipad in Upstate New York. His mind was all over the place, countless thoughts bouncing around all at the same time, practically making his skull vibrate. He was pissed off, anxious, tired, but the thing that was bothering him most was the ache of longing that was lodged deep in his chest.
It had been three days since he had said goodbye to you. Three days since he had felt your soft skin and heard your breathy laugh, and each time he left it never got any easier, in fact, he found that it was only getting harder.
The news of his departure had always sent you into a spiral of panic, and it had become a routine now for him to calm you down before he left. What he hadn’t been expecting though was that as the years passed, he too would develop a physical response to your absence. It was like there was a tether that connected you both that when stretched too far would make him sick and restless, much like how he felt right now.
His anxiety was at an all-time high making his chest tight and making his knee bounce insistently with a mind of its own. It seemed that not even his vibranium arm knew what to do with all of his thoughts firing through his brain because it whirred and hummed ready to take some kind of action that wasn’t all that clear.
He drew in a deep breath. They were almost there, just twenty minutes tops and the time couldn't pass fast enough.
Suddenly a hard clap connected with his shoulder making him flinch, effectively snapping him out of his daze.
"Something on your mind, Buck?" Steve asked, squeezing himself down in the seat next to him.
Bucky merely grunted, hoping Steve would take the hint and drop it, but of course, no conversation could be dropped so easily with Sam Wilson around.
"Oh, he's thinking of something alright. I can practically see the gears turning. I bet you're thinking about your girl aren't you, bionic man?" Wilson butted in and sure enough when Bucky tore his eyes from the floor to send a glare his way a smirk was plastered on his face.
Hearing you being referred to as his did terrible things to Bucky. It made his hands shake and it made it feel like all of the air was being sucked out of the room. Because as much as he would like it to be true, it simply wasn’t, because good things like that didn’t happen to people like Bucky. He had learned early on in his life that everything good that was ever his, would always be ripped away from him and he would never risk anything happening to you - ever.
But it was okay because what he did know was that he was yours in every way a person could belong to anyone, and that was good enough for him.
He loved you with as much capacity as the broken and shattered pieces of his heart would ever allow him to love anyone and the fact that Wilson could see that scared him because if he could see it, then maybe you could too and he didn’t know if he was ready for that.
So, he did what he does best. Deflect.
“You want to know what I’m thinking about, Wilson? I’m trying to figure out how I ended up in the middle of the action because of you and your stupid flying frisbee,” He ground out between clenched teeth.
The bullet wounds that riddled his body had just finished healing, but he was never supposed to be close enough to the fight to get shot in the first place. He was tired of fighting. He had been fighting for nearly a lifetime and he was exhausted. The team knew and they did their best to accommodate him, but that didn’t change the fact that he was still the best sharpshooter on the team, so he had agreed to help just as long as he could work from a distance.
Rarely though do things ever go as planned and there was always something that went wrong that landed him right where he didn’t want to be – in the middle of the fight. This time it was Wilson’s wings that had taken a brutal blow that had forced Bucky to leave the safety of his hideout to get him out.
"First of all his name is Red Wing, and second of all, there's no shame in thinking about her. We all know she's going to be waiting for you on the helipad like she always does and then she'll be stuck to you like glue for a week. Any man would want to come back to that, isn't that right Steve?"
Bucky turned to glare at Steve who shifted uncomfortably in his seat unsure of what to say under the scrutiny of both men.
"Well… yeah - uh, I mean… - no, definitely not? Sorry Buck I don't know what you want me to do here."
Bucky merely scoffed.
“I want you…” He pointed at Wilson. “To stop making up shit that isn’t real. I don’t need this going around the compound and getting back to her.”
What you both had right now was good, more than he could ever ask for and he would be damned if he let Sam Wilson change things.
"Okay, so that's how you wanna play it, huh? So you wouldn't mind if I asked her out? Because I think she's been sending me signals, and if she's not yours then I just might have to pursue them."
At this point, he knew Wilson was just trying to rile him up, but that didn’t stop his vibranium arm from groaning, his fingers curling into the metal of his seat leaving a visible impression.
“Jesus Christ, she’s not sending you fucking signals, she speaks sign language. She literally speaks in signals.” He groaned, rubbing at his temples with his flesh hand in an effort to try and soothe away the headache that was rapidly building.
He didn’t particularly like the thought of you with anyone, but with Wilson nonetheless? He didn’t like that one bit. Because Wilson didn’t know the little things.
He didn’t know that chocolate ice cream was the only thing that would bring back your appetite on days when you found it hard to stomach anything. He didn’t know that on nights when the horrors that lived in your head refused to let you sleep, watching the lights from the projector that was hidden under your bed would help. And he definitely didn’t know how to read all of the words that your hands couldn’t say when panic had overcome you.
But Wilson was a whole person, more than Bucky would ever be and it killed him because if you deserved anyone, it was someone like Wilson.
"Yeah, I know and I'm still learning but I swear those hands are telling me something if you know what I mean." He wiggled his brow and went on to make a lewd stroking motion with his hand and that was all it took for Bucky's vision to bleed red.
He bolted out of his seat, which Steve must have seen coming because his hands were on him trying to keep him from getting to Wilson.
"Buck wait -," Steve tried to reason, but all it took was a hard jab of his vibranium elbow into Steve's sternum to knock the air out of his lungs and Bucky was able to twist himself free, crossing the small isle to Wilson.
He was pleased to see that for once, that shit-eating grin was absent from Wilson's face as he stood there with his hands up in surrender. His mouth was moving, trying to talk him down but Bucky couldn't find it in him to care and when he was close enough he kicked out hard into his gut sending Wilson doubling over straight into his flesh fist.
God, he had been wanting to do that all day.
Blood gushed from Wilson's nose, "Look man I don't want to fight you okay I can admit when I've gone too far -," Bucky shoved him back into his seat and wrapped his vibranium hand around his throat.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't rip your spine out of your throat." He growled, his vibranium hand clenching down in a bruising grip making Wilson squirm in discomfort and tug uselessly at his arm in a fruitless attempt to get some air.
"Alright Buck, you've proved your point. Sam is sorry, aren't you Sam?" Steve was there again with a hand on his shoulder.
Wilson's face had turned a dark crimson and it seemed like any second now he would lose consciousness. He nodded his head frantically, but Bucky still wasn't convinced that he had gotten the message.
"We are going to land any second now, you don't want her to see you like this… c'mon let go," Steve tried again, a little more urgent now for Wilson's sake.
He could hear the way engines shifted, changing the jet's speed and altitude in preparation for landing. Finally, that uneasy feeling that had been festering in his gut since they had left three days ago was beginning to fade and against his better judgment, Bucky released his hold on Wilson letting him collapse further into his seat gasping desperately for air.
“If you ever disrespect her like that again, I’ll kill you,” He threatened, before turning back and gathering his gear, and making his way down the ramp to the sealed doors that would be opening any second now.
Sure enough, Steve wasn’t far behind, and eventually, he was stood right beside him, nearly shoulder to shoulder.
"You know in his own weird way, Sam is just trying to get through to you right?" Steve asked.
Bucky remained silent staring at the doors as the jet shook and jostled before landing with a heavy thud. The hydraulic locks hissed to life, releasing their pressure allowing the doors to fold out into an extended ramp onto the helipad.
The sunlight that poured in temporarily blinded him and when his eyes adjusted he expected to see your tall figure running and smiling up at him like you always did, but you were nowhere to be seen.
"Welcome back boys. Nice shiner you got there Bird Brain, that looks fresh." Natasha greeted. Wilson shoved his way between him and Steve and out onto the helipad.
"Yeah, yeah eat it up, Nat. If anyone needs me I'll be in medical, you know cause not all of us have super juice flowing in our veins," Wilson sent a glare Bucky's way, his voice rough and cracking before disappearing off into the compound.
"Where is she?" Steve whispered, eyes searching the empty helipad.
He could feel a twinge of worry begin to grow inside him, and he didn’t know how, maybe it was that tether acting up again, but he could feel that something was wrong.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” And just like that he abandoned all of his gear on the jet and crossed over the helipad and into the compound.
He booked it to the elevator that would take him to your floor and impatiently watched the floor numbers change as the elevator climbed.
When the elevator doors parted, he marched his way down the hall until he was outside of your room. He raised his fist and rapped his knuckles against the door.
“Hey doll, it’s me. I just got home,” He called out.
He waited, listening for your light footsteps or any indication that you were inside safe and sound but he heard nothing.
“Friday, is she in there?”
“Yes Sargeant Barnes, security footage shows that she was last seen entering her bathroom, but that was nearly three hours ago,” The A.I. responded.
Nearly three hours? His brows furrowed in concern and he knew that something was definitely wrong. He didn’t waste another second before opening the door and working his way through your apartment that he knew like the back of his hand until he arrived at your bathroom.
A light illuminated from under the door and when he tuned in again to listen, he still heard nothing which only made his heart thump harder with worry and he didn’t have the patience to knock before cracking the door open.
He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but the sight that greeted him on the other side of that door nearly tore his heart in two.
It was an image he had seen countless times, you sat in a bathtub full of water with your knees pulled to your chest, wet long brown hair draped down your back. Only this time your body trembled and shivered, sending the water around you rippling. And your eyes… your eyes were glazed over, open wide but unseeing, staring straight ahead into nothing.
He cautiously moved into the bathroom, dropping to his knees at the side of the tub, taking note of how you remained unresponsive, unaware that he was even there.
“Can you hear me, doll? It’s me, Bucky…” He tried and when there was still no reaction from you, he dipped his fingers into the water and hissed when he found it to be freezing cold.
He quickly tugged the plug to let the cold water drain out and turned the faucet on to let warm water pour in.
You flinched hard at the sound of the water roaring, curling further in on yourself.
“Hey – hey it’s okay. You’re freezing doll, I’m just trying to warm you up so that you don’t get sick,” He tried to reassure you.
Bucky himself felt sick to his stomach knowing that you had been like this for nearly three whole hours. He should have never left to go on that mission, he should have stayed here with you.
All he could do now was try his best to take care of you and so he poured in your favorite strawberry and vanilla bath bubbles hoping that the scent would comfort you and began scooping up cups of warm water, gently pouring it over your frigid skin.
He poured the water over your knees, shoulders, and down your back rubbing his hands over your trembling muscles to get your blood flowing. You let him do that for a while before a sound of distress escaped your parted lips and you cringed away from him.
The sound immediately made him freeze and pull the water away from you.
Your skin wasn’t as warm as he would have liked, but your lips had almost returned to their natural color and your shaking wasn’t nearly as strong, so he relented and turned off the water figuring that the sound was doing you more harm than good at this point.
He quickly gathered some warm towels and set them to the side before kneeling down at your side again.
“I’m going to pick you up now, alright? Everything is going to be okay.” You remained unmoving, but when Bucky gently ran his fingers over your shoulder and you didn’t flinch away from him, he took that as a good sign and wrapped his vibranium arm around your waist and pulled your body out of the water.
He had to work slow to ease you into a standing position, stopping when you winced from the aches your body was surely experiencing from being curled up for hours.
Eventually, he had you up, supporting nearly all of your weight with your bare chest pressed against his soaking his tactical vest while he worked with one arm to unravel a towel and wrap it around you.
You cried out when Bucky lifted you and he did his best not to jostle you too much as he turned and sat on the bathroom floor with you tucked securely across his lap.
“I’m not gonna hurt you baby doll, you know I never would…” He spoke gently, while he secured another towel around your hair and used a third to dry off your pruned toes and fingers and any lingering droplets of water that clung to your skin.
Once he made sure you were nice and dry, he tentatively reached out and cradled your face in his hands, tilting your chin up until you were staring right at him. Your eyes were still glazed over, blinking slowly and he could see how scared and lost you were as he searched for a piece of you inside those honeyed brown eyes that so often appeared in his dreams.
He knew that you were back there, back in the clutches of Hydra, back where the scientists had cleaned you like a hard piece of machinery, rough and unforgiving as they sprayed you down and dunked you until your skin was raw and your lungs burned from inhaling to much water.
Bucky knew that pain all too well and even to this day, the spray from the showerhead beating down on his skin would set his nerves on fire.
“You’re home… you’re here with me and I won’t let anything happen to you. I got you out of there remember? Remember the snow and the safe house? That was where you let me wash your hair for the first time and I’ll… I’ll never forget how it felt to know that you trusted me to do that – that you still trust me to do that.” His throat was growing uncomfortably tight and he had to bite his lip hard to keep it from trembling.
He vividly remembered your frail and traumatized figure soaking in water that ran pink with your blood no matter how many times he changed the water out. You had been terrified of him, but at the same time never wanted him to leave your sight and so he had helped you cut the mats out of your hair and when your arms were too weak to wash it you had asked him if he would do it.
He had never helped another person bathe in all of his life, so he was nervous and sloppy and he learned quickly that all it took was a single trail of water to run over your face to send you into a panic.
He had been washing your hair ever since and he loved every minute of it. It gave him a purpose, let him use his hands for something that wasn’t violence, and of course, it gave him a reason to spend more time with you.
He stayed with you in that bathroom for what could have been an hour, talking to you and rubbing your stiff muscles, and when you started squirming around in his lap and your eyes focused on him, really seeing him this time it took everything in him not to cry.
You looked around the bathroom and at him with a look of confusion.
“Bucky?” You mouthed.
“Yeah doll, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere again for a very long time.” He smiled down at you. And he meant it. No more missions, no more fighting. He was staying right here with you.
"Really?" Your eyes brightened.
"Really. I think it's about time we go on vacation anyways, don't you think?"
You smiled a wide toothy grin and nodded your head eagerly, but then your smile wavered and your eyes became glossy as they pooled with tears.
“I missed you so much,” You signed, before throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him into you.
He melted into you, taking in the scent of strawberries and vanilla that still lingered on your skin and when you began to cry into his chest, he rubbed his vibranium hand up and down your back to soothe you.
“I missed you too… so much,” He murmured against your skin.
He couldn’t keep the tears he had been fighting to hold in from spilling over onto his cheeks, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
He felt at peace with you in his arms, holding you tight, knowing that for the most part, you were okay.
After a while, he pulled away when he felt your fingers prodding at his chest. He looked down to see that you were tracing the bullet holes that riddled his tactical vest with a frown etched on your face.
He had done his best to clean up on the jet, rinsing off all of the blood that had caked his skin, but of course nothing got past you.
“I don’t like it when you get hurt…” You signed before returning your fingers to his chest.
“I know doll, but I’m alright, see? Healed up and good as new.” He pulled his vest back so that you could see that what was once wounds were now only tiny scars amongst his ever-growing collection.
“But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt here,” You reached up and tapped your fingers against his temple, and it felt like someone had sent another bullet straight through his chest.
Because it did hurt, it hurt so fucking bad.
He had been hurting for nearly a century, and if he acknowledged that pain for even a second it was like opening a floodgate of torment on his mind.
“I’m sorry, I…I can’t,” He choked out and screwed his eyes shut struggling to maintain his composure.
He was the one who was shaking now. The sounds of gunfire, garbled cries, and shouts of Russian echoed in his ears and when he felt your palm on his cheek, he jerked back and his eyes flew open, wide and afraid.
He focused on you, the only reminder he had that there was any room left in his heart for something other than pain.
I love you…
He didn't have the strength to say it but he prayed to God that you could feel it.
You played with his hair and placed some warm kisses onto his temple until his tears ran dry and his breaths had stopped stuttering.
He didn't need some overbearing lecture, he had heard them all before. He just needed to know that someone was there, and you always seemed to know how to give him that feeling.
You smiled lazily up at him and blinked slowly and he knew that you were exhausted just like he was so he picked his sore body up off of the floor with you in his arms.
"Wanna take a nap, doll?" He whispered into your hair.
A light hum rumbled in your chest and he chuckled when you nodded against him, eyes already drooping.
"Alright, just stay awake a little longer so we can get some clothes on you…" He plopped you down onto your bed and walked into your closet grabbing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties.
When he made his way back to you, he unwrapped the towel from your hair and shoved the t-shirt over your head. He struggled to get your arms through, and you laughed a breathy sound when he bent your arm at an awkward angle only for your arm to get stuck in the sleeve.
He glared playfully at you, hell-bent on getting this damn t-shirt on you and you were enjoying every second of his struggling, the sounds of your giggling like music to his ears. After a couple of minutes, he finally got the thing on you and he removed your towel from underneath and allowed you to finish getting dressed.
"Okay, what are we feeling today. Bed or closet?" He asked, knowing that after what you had just been through you would likely pick the closet.
You felt more safe sleeping in a small space where you could see every inch of the room knowing that nothing could be lurking in the shadows. So when you shyly pointed your finger at the closet, he picked you up one last time and made his way to it, and laid you down in the little nest you had made for yourself inside.
He fluffed up your pillows and tucked you in nice and snug under your blanket.
"Stay until I fall asleep?" You signed slowly due to your drowsiness.
How could he ever say no to that?
And so Bucky sat there just outside of your closet watching over you as you fell asleep. He noted every toss and turn, every soft sigh, and every flutter of your eyelashes, tucking them away into the recesses of his mind for safekeeping.
After all, it was all of these things that helped him keep his head above the roaring tides that threatened to drag him down every single day.
It didn't take long until you were settled in a deep sleep and Bucky knew it was time to go, but he could feel that tether acting up again, urging him to stay as close to you as possible.
He looked down at your peaceful figure one last time whispering a promise that he would be back to check on you later.
It took all of his strength, but he managed to shut the closet door between you both and walked out of your apartment hoping that for once in his cruel and twisted life he could keep this one good thing.
That he could keep you.