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Yelena shuffles up to Bucky, forehead thudding against his chest. She can feel Bucky startle upon contact. Every muscle in his body visibly tensed. The weight of Bucky’s gaze atop Yelena’s head could be tangible.
She doesn’t return the look, her eyes sliding shut too easily. She puts most of her weight on Bucky.
Bucky hesitates, not sure what to do in this situation. Under normal circumstances, Yelena would keep as much distance between them as possible. Bucky doesn’t like physical contact, and he knows Yelena isn’t too keen on it either.
Bucky narrows his eyes.
Normally, Yelena would make a snide comment about Bucky in the most annoying and cheerful way possible-
Bucky pushes down the overwhelming urge to shove her off. The phone he previously held now shoved in his pocket. Bucky wraps both his arms around her waist.
-but, she looks ready to collapse any second.
“‘Lena?” Bucky says, after staying quiet for a moment. He rests his chin on the top of her head.
She hums in acknowledgement.
“You good?” He knows she’s not, but Yelena’s the type of person who prefers to be asked.
Yelena pauses. Bucky and she aren’t friends. The mutual hatred coursing through their veins runs deep into childhood. The occasion of not trading passive-aggressive comments stays few and far between.
Yelena takes a few deep breaths to calm her nerves, barely holding back a visible wince. Her throat burns and her lungs ache. The screaming match she’d had with her sisters’ future mother-in-law surfaces from the back of her mind. Yelena knows the argument stays far from over. And she knows Sarah will want to continue it as soon as possible.
Yelena can only hope for enough time to clear her head before round two begins.
“Yeah,” she mumbles. She doesn’t tell him the truth. Yelena shifts her head to look at him and—based on the unimpressed look Bucky’s giving her—he is fully aware of this fact.
Yelena breaks eye contact first.
They agreed to keep it civil for the duration of the wedding week, and the duration of the wedding week only. The last thing her sister needs is the best man and the maid of honor at each other’s throats every second of the day.
She can see the protectiveness Bucky feels over Sarah, her sister’s future mother-in-law. Yelena’s not entirely sure how he’d react to the prospect of her screaming at the woman who practically raised him.
She doesn’t have to tell Bucky the truth of course, the woman in question comes storming around the corner.
“Yelena!” Sarah Rogers all but screams.
Every muscle in Yelena’s body goes rigid. Her stomach hits the floor. She feels like crying. Yelena can’t handle another confrontation like that. She can’t take another bash at her family’s name. Not today. Not with the bone aching exhaustion. Not in her emotionally unstable state. Not from Sarah.
But she can’t stay with Bucky, either. Yelena knows this. Bucky loves Sarah. He believes Sarah can do no harm.
And it’s not like Bucky wants to be with her right now. It’s a miracle he hasn’t snapped at her for coming within a 20 foot radius of him yet.
“How dare you-” Sarah stops dead in her tracks. The woman’s gaze zeros in on Bucky and Yelena. Her face goes slack. Sarah eyes them both. Yelena can practically feel the judgment and disapproval rolling off of her. After a moment of silence, Sarah comes to her wits. She forces a relaxed posture, a pleasant smile splitting across her face. “Bucky,” she says, all too happy for her previous tone. “How are you today? I haven’t seen you yet.”
Bucky raises an eyebrow, looking back and forth between Yelena and Sarah.
Why does he feel like he’s jumped into a shark tank?
Bucky forces a tight smile. “I’m good Mrs. Rogers. How are you?” He asks.
Sarah flattens invisible wrinkles in her dress. “I am very good today. Thank you for asking.” She flashes an award-winning smile. “Can I speak with Yelena? She walked off in the middle of our... discussion.”
Yelena waits for Bucky to remove his arms from around her.
Bucky doesn’t move.
Yelena pulls her head back. She tries to extract his arms off of her. The act is much harder in her current state of exhaustion.
Bucky tightens them ever so slightly. Just enough to get the message across.
Yelena freezes. She looks up at him—confusion painted clear across her face.
Bucky doesn’t so much as spare her a glance. He keeps his eyes trained on the woman across the room.
“Yelena’s not feeling well right now. I don’t think this is a good time,” Bucky states firmly.
Sarah Rogers scowls. “She was fine while speaking with me a moment ago.”
“Right,” Bucky says, “Mrs. Rogers, I’m sure whatever you were talking about was really important-“
“It was.”
“-but I don’t think she’s in any state to be answering questions.”
The woman scoffs. “Well then, she needs to suck it up. Natasha needs her. The other bridesmaids need her.” Sarah crosses her arms across her chest. “The wedding is tomorrow and there’s still a plethora of preparation to be done. She is the maid of honor! Yelena should be taking some responsibility!” Sarah throws her hands in the air, huffing. “If she doesn’t feel well, that’s fine, but she cannot stop working over something as silly as a sore throat or headache. Yelena can’t keep slacking off. Her mother is stressed and needs help.” She shakes her head at them.
Bucky narrows his eyes. He highly doubts she was slacking. Over the years Bucky has come to associate a list of words with Yelena—annoying, uptight, dramatic—yet, never once has slacker been at the top of that list, or on the list at all, for that matter. If the bags under her eyes are any indication of that, he doesn’t know what is.
“Right, well.” Bucky clears his throat. “Yelena asked me to help her with something, so don’t worry.” He smiles tightly. “She’s not slacking.”
The older woman hums, nodding her head. “And does this... something... have anything to do with your current, uh.” She gestures between them. “Position?”
Bucky grits his teeth. His grip on Yelena tightens further. “I don’t see how our position is any of you concern?” He replies.
Sarah purses her lips.
Yelena nearly cries when Mrs. Rogerses phone chimes.
Sarah flicks her eyes between them and her phone screen. “Yes, well, I best be going,” she says, slipping her phone into her purse.
She walks past them, out the hotel doors. Her footsteps muffled by the carpet. The near interrogation ending as abruptly as it started.
Bucky watches the woman’s retreating figure. He drags his gaze back down to Yelena. She’s put her head back on his chest, taking slow ragged breaths. From relief or exhaustion, Bucky doesn’t know.
“‘Lena?” He questions again, “are you alright?”
Yelena stays silent this time. She doesn’t have to answer him. He already knows what she’ll say.
Bucky sighs.
Yelena feels him shifting around. He places his fingers under her chin, gently lifting her head. She’s too tired to protest.
Bucky examines her for a moment. Yelena’s high cheekbones always left her looking a little gaunt, although right now it looks almost unhealthy. Her eyes are half open, bloodshot and glassy, never entirely focused. Yelena’s eye bags rival that of the night, and she appears abnormally pale. Her hair sits in a messy bun atop her head, stray curls going everywhere. Her entire body was practically limp against him. Bucky wonders if she could catch herself were he to let go.
His lips tug to a frown. “How much sleep did you get last night?” He drops his hand.
Yelena doesn’t know how much sleep she’s gotten this week, although she’s sure it can’t be more than 3-4 hours.
Yelena shrugs. “Enough.”
Bucky pulls a weird face. Yelena might call it concern if she didn’t know better.
She looks completely out of it. Bucky thinks. “Alright,” He says, “alright, come on.” Bucky keeps one arm firmly placed around Yelena’s waist, and starts walking, dragging Yelena along with him.
“Where are you taking me?” She mumbles. Most of her weight still on him.
“To get some sleep,” he says.
He directs her out of the hotel lobby. The elevator has an ‘Out of Order’ sign on it.
He purses his lips. Yelena’s room resides on the third floor. He glance over at the near limp woman. Yelena doesn’t look as though she’ll make it up three flights of stairs without falling. His hotel room is on the first floor. Is she picky about where she sleeps? Bucky doesn’t know her well enough to decipher the correct answer to that question. He’s pretty sure she’ll be more angry if he drops her down a flight of stairs. And it’s a hotel room, not his bedroom at home, so it’s not that bad... right?
Bucky fumbles for his key card, nearly dropping it the first time.
The door swings open. He pulls Yelena inside, closing the door behind him. He internally winces at how sketchy this may look to others. A guy pulling a drunk looking girl into a hotel room alone.
Yelena stops. Bucky looks over to find her already staring back at him.
“It’s okay Bucky. I’m fine. I don’t need to sleep right now,” Yelena says.
Bucky scoffs at her, the disbelief evident in his expression. “Sure.” He guides her over to the bed.
“No really, I’m fine,” Yelena says, in one last vain attempt. “I just need to clear my head for a minute and I’ll be good as new.” Bucky looks over at her. He drops his arm. Yelena stumbles from the sudden lack of support. She tries to grab his arm to keep herself upright. Bucky moves quicker than she can, however, wrapping both arms around her waist to steady her. She looks up at him wearily.
He raises an eyebrow. “You were saying?”
Yelena drops her head. Resorting to give him all of her weight again. “Can’t sleep. No time for that. Too much to do.” Yelena pauses. Every word takes greater effort than it’s worth. “Their wedding’s tomorrow. I have to pick up the roses today, and someone spilled something on one of the tablecloths. One of the bridesmaid dresses has a manufacturing flaw in it. I have to pick up the corsages and someone forgot the cutlery—I mean, how are you supposed to eat without cutlery? And the minister got sick and the back up minister had an affair with the secretary and now I have to find a new one and...” Yelena trails off. She bites her lip. “And my sister doesn’t want to change her name and Sarah thinks it’s my fault for some reason, but it’s not, and now- now...”
“And now you need to sleep,” Bucky finishes.
Yelena’s head snaps up, wide eyed. “Are you insane? Did you not hear what I just said? Their wedding is tomorrow. Sarah will have my head if everything’s not ready.”
“They have a wedding planner. Let her do some of that,” Bucky says, as though it’s obvious.
“They fired her,” she states.
Bucky scoffs. “They fired their wedding planner just before their wedding?”
Yelena nods.
“Why?”
“She tried flirting with Steve.”
Bucky winces. Okay, fair enough. Flirting with the groom is not the best idea. “Why do you have to do it all?”
Yelena shrugs. “If I don’t do it, who will?”
Bucky sighs. He doesn’t have time to unpack that toxic mindset. “You still gotta sleep, Yelena.” Bucky tightens his grip, half convinced she’ll bolt for the door... not that she’d make it. “Make up covers a lot of things, passing out halfway down the aisle? Not one of them.”
Yelena glares at him. “Rude,” she mutters, before dropping her head again.
“Please sleep,” he pleads.
“S’ok, I’ve got enough sleep,” she mumbles.
Bucky scoffs. “No. It’s not okay.” He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen someone look more exhausted than you do right now. And that’s saying something. I used to work the graveyard shift at a gas station.”
“I’m fine.”
“The fact you willingly came within five feet of me to do something other than scream in my face, then proceeded to cuddle me for 30 minutes solid, says you’re not fine.”
Yelena stiffens. “You’re not letting me go, are you?”
“Nope,” he replies.
She steps back, sitting on the bed.
Bucky could practically see the cogs turning in her brain.
She makes a shooing motion with her hands. “Go.” Her face was void of expression.
Bucky does not leave as she’d asked. He makes his way around the room, taking out the light sources one by one. The curtains are left open, allowing enough light to see. He grabs his phone, sinking into the tiny hotel armchair.
Yelena blinks. She blinks again.
Is he...?
“What are you doing?” Yelena all but snaps.
Bucky glances up. “Making sure you sleep,” he says, as though it’s obvious.
Yelena scowls. “I don’t need a watchdog.”
“Never said you did,” he replies.
“Then stop acting like one.”
Bucky makes a show of rolling his eyes. “Well, it is my room, isn’t it?”
Yelena sneers at him. “Then take me to mine!”
“You going to walk up three flights of stairs?” Bucky tilts his head to the side.
If looks could kill, Bucky would be six feet under right now.
“I hate you,” Yelena mutters, curling up on the bed nonetheless, seeming to accept her fate.
He looks back down, You loose, flashes across his phone screen in bold white letters.
“Bucky?”
“Hm?”
“Which gas station?” He could almost hear the smile in her voice.
He groans. “Shut up, Yelena.”