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Bucky swears up and down that he’s losing his mind.
When he went to find you in the rubble and ruin of the small restaurant, you weren’t there. He practically tore the place apart looking for you before remembering the necklace he gave you. Anyone else would have deemed it controlling. And in any other circumstances, Bucky would have to agree. Giving your significant other a tracking necklace is a shitty and controlling thing to do. That is unless you were a POW for an extremist group hell bent on making your life suck.
And that is exactly what he is, unfortunately. So instead of ripping him a new one like most people would if the person they had only been dating for a few months decided to get them a fucking tracker, you were willing to hear him out. Right now, he thanks every god above you were willing to listen.
He doesn’t even want to know the lengths that Hydra will go to make you suffer for making the mistake of loving him. If he can just get you home safe, everything will be fine.
He hops on his motorcycle and drives to the spot your tracker is. Worries claw at his brain. What if they discarded the necklace? What if this is a set up? What if he doesn’t make it in time? He forces himself to push those thoughts to the back of his mind.
Worrying won’t save you. Worrying won’t bring you back. He can’t let his emotions get the better of him.
The man that had been delivering punches to your gut and slapping you around froze upon hearing a rumbling sound. Knife in hand, he frowns. “I guess this means we don’t get to finish what we’ve started. Bummer.”
He actually has the nerve to sound disappointed. He sets the knife down along with the other torture devices he had one of his goons bring—which to your horror includes a pair of pliers, a hammer, and many different types of sharp objects. You hear him yell at the men watching to prepare for the Winter Soldier.
You would have corrected him had it been any other circumstance. He is not the Winter Soldier. He is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. A man worthy of much more respect than it seems they’re willing to give him.
You see your boyfriend stomp down the creaking stairs. He’s pissed. You definitely don’t envy the men surrounding you.
“Let them go, Warrenson.” Bucky’s voice calm and collected, not betraying any emotion. He hasn’t looked at you which you figure is probably a good thing. You don’t want him to lose his cool just because you’ve gotten a good beating.
“We will. As long as you come peacefully in return. Hydra wants their Soldier back.”
Bucky clenches his jaw. He knew that someday you’d be used as leverage. This is why he should never have agreed to go on a date with you. This is why he doesn’t deserve happiness or love. This is why you are better off without him ruining your life. He destroys everything he touches with his dark, infected soul. Nothing good comes from knowing Bucky Barnes.
“I’ll do it,” he mutters. The heart wrenching protest from you begs him to look your way. You sound destroyed and distraught. No, he can’t look at you. It will demolish any and all of his resolve—what’s left of it anyway.
“Bucky, no! Don’t do this, please! No! I’m not worth it, okay?”
His heart shatters like the most fragile glass or porcelain, his soul crushed with the weight of a thousand suns. How could you say that you aren’t worth it. He’d burn the world for you.
“Shut that bitch up!” a man orders. A sharp throbbing pain erupts at the back of your head. You cry out, and Bucky loses all of his resolve. No one fucking hurts his babydoll and gets away with it. No one.
Bodies dropped like flies in the blink of an eye. Now you have always known that Bucky is skilled, but… well, let’s just say you are surprised.
He rushes over to you and releases you from your restraints. He looks over your broody, relief nearly palpable to see that you had no major visible injuries. He had seen the hammer and pliers along with a plethora of knives. He’s just glad he got here in time because if he didn’t… he doesn’t want to even think of what they could’ve done to you.
You saw the far off look in Bucky’s eyes. You knew he is probably coming up with some way to blame himself for all of this. Your hands reach to grab his face. His eyes refocus on you, feeling your gentle hands with their delicate touch. You smile at him, not paying any mind to the throbbing of your skull.
“I’m okay, Buck, it’s fine.”
He frowns. His brows furrow deeply. Nothing about this is fine. He’s sure that your ribs are coloured purple and he can hear a sight slurring in your voice.
“Baby? I need you to tell me if anything is hurting real bad. Did they hit your head real bad?”
“Hmm?” You think for a bit. Maybe they did, you’re not really sure anymore. “I think so?”
“How does your head feel?”
“Mmm… kinda like someone is takin’ a hammer to it. It hurts, Buck… I wanna go t’sleep.”
“No, no, no, stay awake for me, c’mon. Let’s get you outta here.”
He hauls you up onto unsteady feet. You kinda just wanna stay there, maybe take a quick little nap. That should be fine, right? But Bucky told you not to. You frown. This is a dilema.
You stumble your way up the stairs and say, “At least it can’t get any worse.”
He smiles, or at least tries to… it’s more like a grimace, at your attempt to brighten the situation.
Turns out you spoke too soon, however.
The stairs groan under you before both you and Bucky are plunging through the wood. You hear a high pitched scream. Then you realise it’s you making that god awful noise.
Bucky curses under his breath as the wood gives way to both your weight. He wraps his body around yours, taking the brunt of the fall. He can’t let you get hurt more.
The wind is knocked out of him as his back collided with the ground. A piece of wood stabs through his torso, and he grits his teeth as you come down on top of him.
“Baby?” His voice is breathy. You whimper, terrified out of your wits. “I’m so sorry, doll. Can… can you reach in my pocket? Grab my phone and dial… dial Sam.”
You reach down and accidentally hit the wood post that’s sticking out of him. His groan is so guttural, even in your haze, your brain panics. You try to look down, but Bucky can’t let that happen. You’re only going to panic more. “Keep your eyes on me, m’kay?”
You nod, instantly regretting it. “Babe?” Bucky questions, seeing you wince.
“’m fine,” you insist, lowering your hand, being more careful this time around.
You make contact with the brick that he calls his phone and pull up Sam’s number. You make a joke about not knowing how to work the old thing, but Bucky thinks you’re serious. He goes to grab the phone, but you indignantly pull it away from his grasp. “Was a joke, Barnes. I’m perfectly capable…”
You were gonna say more, but it is so much work to talk. Maybe you should have convinced Bucky to let you nap. Then you wouldn’t be on top of him in a hole under some stupid stairs.
“Bucky? What’s up? I thought you were on a date.”
“I’s me Sammy,” you giggle. Why are you giggling? Nothing makes sense anymore.
The man on the other end of the phone groans. “Please tell me he didn’t get you plastered. Did you try to out drink him? Cause I tried that once… that was not a fun morning.”
“No… we’re under the stairs, Sammy.”
“Under the stairs? What stairs? Why—”
“You ask too many questions,” you mumble, half of the sentence jumbling together. Black starts to creep into the corners of your vision. “Think I gonna take nap now.”
Sam furrows his brows, hearing Bucky yell at you to stay awake. “Sam! Listen to me, you need to come help we’re both injured—”
You gasp, “Bucky hurt?”
He can’t stop you from looking down. Your gasp is so loud he can barely hear Sam muttering to him over the phone.
“Doll, hand the phone to me,” he demands. Tears form in your pretty eyes, seeing the wood sticking out of your boyfriend.
“But.. you hurt.”
He sighs, “Yes, but I need the phone so someone can save us.”
You nod, tears dripping down your face. Your heart is beating like a hummingbird is in your chest. You press your hand against it, crying out in pain. Your head hurts so bad. So does your stomach and ribs. You just want to go to sleep.
You don’t remember exactly when Sam showed up. But he is here now with a full team of firefighters and medics. The firefighters extract you both, though it takes more work to get Bucky out.
The next thing you know, you’re waking up in a hospital. Sam somehow convinced the medical staff to let you and Bucky share a room, knowing that you both need each other.
When Bucky wakes up, he is panicking. His panic settles when he sees you safe and sound in bed. His gut twists seeing the ugly purple bruises on your face. This is all his fault. He should have never got himself involved with you. Your life was better without him in it. He ruined you like he ruins everything.
“Bucky?”
He focuses on your voice. Tears blurring your figure. “Yeah?” He doesn’t deserve to call you any pet names. He doesn’t deserve to call you his. He doesn’t deserve you.
“You can stop that negative self-thinking right now.” You glare at him.
“But—”
“No buts!” you interrupt. “I’m too selfish to let you leave me cause you’re scared you’re gonna hurt me. To be honest, I’ll be more hurt if you leave me than if someone were to kidnap me again. My abandonment issues can’t take much more, so if you–”
“You deserve better—”
“Don’t give me that bullshit. I want you god dammit! Why can’t you understand that I love you?”
His eyes grow wide at your outburst. And your words. That was the first time you said you loved him. He thinks he could get addicted.
“You… you love me?”
“Yes! I didn’t think you were that oblivious! I’m in love with you, James Buchanan Barnes.”
Tears form in his eyes. “I… I love you too…”
You smirk at him. “You better.”