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Bucky didn't really think much about it, breaking his arm. It was a clean break and overall, not the worst outcome after getting knocked off of that building during the mission. He didn't think it was funny, unlike Tony and Clint. Pain had become more of a minor annoyance than a problem for him after his decades spent being Hydra's attack dog. However, Steve was adamant about making a fuss over him and it was driving him nuts . He has only got some of his memories back since their latest reunion, but he still wanted to take care of him. It didn't make any sense to Bucky but there was no stopping him.
Steve carried things for him, held doors open, made his favorite foods, and put on his favorite movies (or at least what he was told were his favorites). He knows he should feel grateful for his efforts, but he was still confused. Yes, all of the attention was nice and sweet, but he still thinks it is too much work for just one person. Especially since that one person was him. Maybe that is because you hate yourself and think you deserve to suffer alone.
"Shut up," he whispered, talking to himself.
"What? Did you say something, Buck?"
"Nothing," he mumbled quickly.
He raised an eyebrow but didn't call him out for lying. They both had perfect hearing and knew that he did say something. Yet another kindness that he felt he did not deserve. This was not the first time Steve gave him a pass either. Ever since he practically moved in with Bucky in his tiny apartment, he got a front-row seat to his decimated mental health. Spending over half of a century being tortured and used had that kind of effect on a person. It's not like he was perfect before all of that either, but people didn't need to know that.
Steve knew, though, he always did. The more time they spent together, the more he started to remember about times before the war. Nothing huge, just little details. He remembered the color of nail polish that Steve's mom used to wear, the movie theater where Steve used to get into scrapes with those pig-headed bullies, how he used to sprinkle sugar in his popcorn when they had it, and the stray cats behind his old apartment he used to sneak a bowl of milk too. There were also things he remembered during the war, things that did not always make sense.
Being rescued the first time from Hydra, following Steve as they tracked Red Skull, watching those USO girls entertain soldiers, listening to Steve give speeches when they left, sneaking kisses with one another backstage after everyone left. That's when things got fuzzy. He had a handful of memories of which they got increasingly more intimate. Clearly, they were something, despite all those documentaries and posters calling Peggy his one true love. Bucky could tell there was more, something that hadn't quite come to him yet.
It is too bad that he is too scared to ask Steve to help him. What if he leaves me if I can't remember everything? What if he leaves me if I do remember everything? He can't decide which one would be worse. None of this helped his cause of trying to hide his anxiety. In fact, he was starting to notice Bucky's behavior and put the pieces together of why he was acting the way he is.
"Hey, Buck. Can we talk?" Steve asked from the kitchen, sounding nervous.
He stopped breathing. It was finally time. Steve has finally gotten tired of taking care of him and was going to find some gentle way of telling him he was going to leave him. He was going to leave him and never come back because why would he come back for someone as broken as him. Bucky couldn't really blame him and was determined to make this as easy on Steve as possible. One of them deserved to be happy.
"Sure," he responds from the couch
"Before I get started, is there anything you want to say?"
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't leave.
"No," he answers, his voice cracks and he is having to force himself to not cry.
"Bucky, what's wrong?" he asked, rushing over to him. He can't take it anymore, tears run down his cheeks as he tightly grips his arms. "Please talk to me, I don't know how to help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."
"D-Don't lea-leave," he managed to say through the sobs wracking his body.
"I'm not leaving. I will never leave, not again," Steve whispered that last part, putting his arm around him.
He immediately melts into his touch, it's been so long since someone touched him without causing pain. Bucky allowed his body to be lowered until he was lying down with his head in his lap. He has questions, but he didn't feel like talking right now. So he basked in Steve's warmth for the time being, until he felt he was ready.
"If you're not leaving, why did you want to talk?" he asked.
"I was going to ask you if you wanted to move into my place?"
"Going to?" he questioned, hoping he did not ruin whatever Steve had planned.
"I don't want to push you, especially right now. You need time to heal and I'm not just talking about your arm."
Oh yeah, Bucky forgot about his arm. It was almost completely healed now, one of the perks of being a super soldier is the healing factor.
"What if I want to, move in with you?"
Steve smiled, "Then I'll help you pack your stuff whenever you're ready."
"I remember things," he said before thinking.
Bucky felt him tense underneath him.
"What kind of things?"
"Stuff before the war, stuff during. Us."
"Okay."
"Are you mad?"
"No, I'm not mad. I'll never be mad at you for remembering your past or ours."
"What were we, in the past?"
"We never really put a name on it," he chuckled lightly, but it was tinged with sadness.
"I'm not the same person," he said before thinking, again.
God, sometimes he wishes he could shut his mouth and be happy for once. He waited for Steve to talk, he was the better talker out of the two of them. Always has been.
"I know, neither am I, but you're still my Bucky."
He wasn't lying. Bucky hadn't realized that he had been instinctively listening to his heartbeat until that moment.
"Yours," he spoke softly.
This is the safest he's felt in…well, over seventy years. His eyes fluttered until the whole world was black, giving him the first good night's sleep he's had in a very, very long time.
* * *
"I'm kind of glad you broke your arm," Steve told him, out of nowhere.
He ate another spoon full of ice cream, "Gee. Thanks."
"You know I don't mean it like that. I just, well, it brought us back together."
"I knew what you meant, punk," he teased before kissing him.
"Now I am really glad," he said after pulling away to breathe.
Bucky laughed.