Chapter Text
It’s not going to be a good day.
Bucky can already tell the second he slips into wakefulness. Steve stirs beside him, rummaging under his pillow for his alarm, which keeps vibrating incessantly until Steve fumbles with it enough to be able to turn it off. Bucky hears Steve unfold his glasses, shove them clumsily onto his nose, and then slide out of bed.
He should move. He needs to get up.
He doesn’t.
The smell of coffee soon wafts up the stairs, which signifies the latest possible time that Bucky can get up, or else he’ll be late to school. The animals need to be fed and their stalls need to be cleaned, and if he’s going to get it all done and get to work at a reasonable time he needs to get up right now.
He should move.
He can’t.
His arm aches, phantom pain sliding down his shoulder like a low electric current. His head is foggy, eyelids heavy. He needs to get up. He can’t make himself.
Soon Steve comes up, just like Bucky knew he would. Bucky loathes himself right now, he needs to get up. The animals need to be taken care of. But everything hurts and everything is heavy. He wants to lay in bed all day so badly that he wants to cry. When his husband’s big hand comes to rest on his forehead, he almost does.
“Okay?” Steve says, and even though Bucky’s not looking at him currently, he can picture the worried furrow that decorates Steve’s brow. Steve brushes Bucky’s bangs out of his face, smoothing his hand over the back of Bucky’s skull.
Bucky drags his hand out from under the covers.
Bad day.
Steve makes a soft crooning noise, one that he makes a lot and Bucky thinks that Steve doesn’t even know he does. He sits on the bed beside Bucky and keeps his hand on the crown of his head. He’s silent for a few minutes.
“Do I need to call Sarah?” Steve murmurs, his hand still resting on Bucky, a heavy and comforting weight.
Bucky nods, choking back a sob. Everything just feels so bad today. He’s so fucking tired.
“It’s okay,” Steve says. “I’ll call you in. I promise, it’s okay. It’s okay to have a bad day.”
Bucky lifts his shaking hand again. But the animals… I need to get up, they’re my responsibility, I… I don’t know why I can’t make myself do it.
“Shh,” Steve shushes him. “It’s alright. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure they’ll forgive you,” he teases gently.
Bucky can’t make himself smile, though he tries.
Steve stands up. Leaves, comes back with Bucky’s toothbrush and a cup of water. Makes him brush his teeth, an act that leaves him even more exhausted than he thought possible. Leaves again, comes back with toast. Watches Bucky choke down half a slice, leaves the other on the bedside table.
Bucky listens to Steve FaceTime Sam’s sister Sarah, who happily agrees to come by and get the farm set up for the day. Their house is on the way to her work and her sons’ school. The boys want to see the goats again anyways, they’ll come with her since the elementary school starts later. How is Bucky?
Not good, Bucky muses to himself. He tunes out Steve’s answer.
Steve kisses him on the head, presses an I love you to Bucky’s sternum. Bucky returns it. His head hurts.
He lets himself sleep again.