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Bucky sighed, he tried to look away, to turn away from the mirror, but he couldn't. He knew he had to, that this wasn't healthy, but his eyes were glued to where the metal arm met the rest of his body. His scars, more specifically.
Steve always said that was a reminder of how strong he was, of how much he survived through. Steve would never let him sulk about it too much, always finding a way to make him feel good about it.
Bucky, on the other hand, saw them as flaws, mistakes. Whenever he looked at them his first thought was weak, because he let himself be done that. He gave up and let Hydra do whatever they wanted with him, no matter how much Steve said otherwise. It was a reminder that he was broken, twisted.
Whenever he looked at his scars he felt sick, he wanted to rip his arm off every time. He has done it in their shared bathroom before, coming as far as drawing blood before Steve barged in and took care of him. His fingers itched to do it again, but Steve was coming up soon and he wouldn't like I'm doing that, and Bucky doesn't want to see Steve upset, ever.
He puts on a dark gray long-sleeved shirt and goes to sit on the bed, waiting calmly for Steve.
Steve comes up 10 minutes later from his debrief looking tired. He has grime, blood, and sweat all over him, including still-opened cuts (which are probably not treated at all), and his suit is ripped in certain places.
When he was just outside the room's door he crouched down and quickly took off his boots, then put his shield leaning against the wall. He entered the room smiling at Bucky, the smile fading when he saw the tight-lipped one Bucky gave him.
"What's wrong?" Steve sat on the edge of the bed with a frown, still sweaty and dirty, but neither of them minded.
Bucky sighs. He didn't want to say what it was, but it wasn't worth the effort to lie about it. Steve was going to find out either way. And if Steve found out on his own instead of Bucky, he would be more mad than worried. Saying the truth to Steve has saved him a lot of trouble, so he would do the same now.
"...My scars," he doesn't say more, he doesn't need to. Steve understands him without much explanation. He takes his gloves off and puts them on the nightstand before crawling to the bed and straddling him.
Steve kisses his forehead, then his cheeks, before giving Bucky a soft kiss on his lips. The kiss is slow and sweet, it's one of the kisses that say I love you and I'm never going to leave you not the ones that say I wanna get in your pants and I wanna fuck you or I wanna get fucked. Even though they have a lot of fun and enjoy when they are fucking, Steve and Bucky prefer moments like this. Just enjoying the other's presence and warmth and affection. Steve continues kissing his face and neck until he gradually gets to Bucky's left shoulder, his scars.
When Bucky takes a sharp intake of breath Steve looks up, and Bucky looks down at him. Those beautiful baby blue eyes, his long black eyelashes, his lips so pink and soft. His face is perfectly innocent and silently asking a question, and Bucky always had and has a weakness for that face, that he would never deny his sweetheart anything, and he knows that Steve won't hurt him, so he nods and Steve kisses his cheek before going to the shoulder and starts to pepper kisses there.
He kisses every single one of the scars there, so sweet and soft and with so much love that Bucky can't help but shed a few silent tears, not willing to disturb Steve. When he lets out a soft sob Steve snakes his arms around Bucky's torso, not stopping. He sometimes says words of encouragement and compliments his scars; they're perfect and I love them, I love you and they're part of you, they don't bother me and he sometimes nips at them and licks them, making Bucky sob louder. They eventually fall asleep, just like that. Steve holding Bucky tightly, still straddling him, and Bucky with his head buried in Steve's hair and arms hugging Steve against him in a tight grip, not letting go.