Work Text:
“I can walk.”
“That’s what we’re doing.”
“I mean I can walk by myself.”
Bucky kept his weight planted on his own feet as Gale’s arm slid around his waist and he pulled Bucky’s arm over his shoulder. Bucky hadn’t pegged Gale for the mother hen type but goddammit if he hadn’t been acting like a distraught mother and Bucky was an only child that had consumption and was also made of glass.
The combination of kicked puppy look, tense shoulders, and chin held high that Gale had developed was a hard thing to make sense of, but all the men including Bucky were relying on Gale’s strength lately and there wasn’t much anyone could do about it. Bucky sighed internally.
“Seriously Buck, I can walk without holding onto you,” he insisted, starting to pull away.
“Well what if I can’t,” Gale muttered under his breath, so quietly Bucky almost missed it, like maybe Gale wasn’t sure if he wanted Bucky to hear.
Some strange emotion caught in Bucky’s throat and he didn’t know how to respond, so he clenched his jaw and gave in, leaving his arm where it was over Gale’s shoulders. Gale’s fingers flexed where they were tucked around Bucky’s ribs but it didn’t hurt anymore, not physically anyway. Bucky appreciated the thought, but it was hard to accept Gale’s selfless care when anyone could see that with the passing days Gale curled into himself more and became more brittle, more bitter with a defensiveness that was obviously covering a deeper edge. If the mothering behavior helped Gale feel better even in the smallest way, Bucky would grit his teeth and put up with it.
They made their way out of the barracks and into the tepid sunshine, beginning their usual route around the camp in comfortable silence. To his credit, Gale kept only a loose touch on Bucky instead of half-carrying him with a tight grip like he used to, like Bucky would disintegrate if Gale didn’t hold him together. They had been doing these walks every day since Bucky recovered enough to stand, though the first time they only made it a few steps out of the barracks and Bucky had barely convinced Gale not to carry him back and destroy his ego for the rest of his life.
These walks were strangely intimate. Though prisoners milled around everywhere there was so much room to spread out that no one got too near each other, and side by side like this the boys could talk without anyone hearing. The closeness tended to inspire vulnerability, and apparently today was no exception.
“You haven’t smiled in a while,” Bucky blurted a few minutes in, almost to his own surprise. He had been thinking it but not planning on saying it.
“I smile.”
“Not really. Not like you do when you’re really happy. And I can’t remember when I last saw you laugh.”
A huff. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
Bucky swallowed. This close, with their sides pressed fully against one another and arms around each other, it was harder to say things sometimes. Bucky chewed his lip.
“It's you I’m worried about,” he said eventually. “Can’t I do that?”
Gale straightened a little, and in dismay Bucky felt those walls of his go up again.
“Well don’t. Just focus on getting better.”
“I’m fine” Bucky retorted, then realized the double standard as he was trying to get Gale to be more honest. “Well, I will be,” he amended. “I’m getting better.”
Gale took a deep breath, his expanding rib cage pressing into Bucky’s, and with it the realization that Gale was hesitant too.
“Physically?” Gale asked.
“Yeah, physically. But this walk today isn’t about me.”
“Oh it isn’t, is it?”
Bucky did glance over then, satisfied to see a touch of amusement on Gale’s face. Gale was the only one who knew about Bucky’s wounds that no one could see. He had told Gale everything on one of these walks, all that had happened after he was captured, each blow and moment of horror until Gale sat him on the ground against the wall of one of the barracks, forehead to forehead and warm hands on his face until Bucky could breathe again.
“Buck, I know you’re not alright.”
“I’m not. No one is.”
“I know but…”
A twinge shot through Bucky’s leg and he hissed, missing a step, and Gale’s arm tightened around him. The kicked puppy look was back on his face and Bucky cursed in his head.
“It’s alright,” he said. “Just a twinge, it’s part of healing.”
The worried expression didn’t go away but Gale’s eyes darkened like they did whenever he was thinking about the people who did this to Bucky.
“Hey.” Bucky squeezed Gale’s arm. “It’s ok. Stay with me.”
Gale nodded and guided Bucky around the corner of one of the storage buildings. It was quieter here—with only the wide space they used for football games between them and the camp fence—and Gale leaned his back to the wall and tugged Bucky close, fingers flexing in Bucky’s jacket as his gaze drifted unfocused. Bucky waited quietly. They had nowhere else to be and he would gladly stand here and look at Gale’s face all day. It felt quite a lot like home.
“I’m sorry,” Gale blurted finally, and Bucky frowned.
“For what?”
Gale swallowed, jaw clenching as he stared vacantly at Bucky’s cheek that had yet to lose its mottled bruising. His hands spread over Bucky’s back, smoothing in comforting motions, yet they were trembling.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Gale rasped like the words cut him. “I couldn’t protect you.” His voice broke and water shimmered in his eyes, gathering on his lashes, and Bucky’s heart shattered .
“Buck ,” he breathed, surging forward and cupping Gale’s neck, smoothing his thumbs along the sharp edges of his jaw. His chest ached like he had been kicked, and a painful lump grew so fast in his throat he was ashamed. He was never this emotional before the war.
“It’s not your fault,” he said, looking Gale in the eye and forcing authority into his tone. “None of this is your fault.”
“But I should have…” Gale gasped, something behind his eyes splintering like the windows of their Fort when bullets tore through them. “I…I’m–”
His breaths came in terrified, unraveling sounds and suddenly Bucky understood what was happening. He looked around quickly and spotted some sort of shed attached to the other end of the building, and after another glance to make sure no one was watching, Bucky pulled Gale into it. It was clearly for storing firewood and though it was mostly full there was room for them to comfortably enter. Bucky sat Gale on a woodpile, where his head just came up to Bucky’s chin, and by the time Bucky got his arms around him Gale was sobbing hard enough to break a rib. He tried muffling the heartbreaking cries and breaths into Bucky’s chest, but the dam had broken and could not be stopped no matter how hard Gale struggled to choke his pain back. Tears burned down Bucky’s own cheeks as he wrapped around Gale with all his might, stroking his hair and rocking him gently.
He let Gale cry until he went limp, then lowered them to the floor and gathered Gale into his lap with his head tucked into Bucky’s neck. They wouldn’t be able to hide here long, but even the few moments were like a balm to Bucky’s raw and bleeding heart as they breathed together, watching the leaves flutter across the ground outside the doorway.
“I’m here,” he whispered into soft blond hair. “We’re gonna be alright.”
Gale sighed, pressing his face deeper to Bucky’s skin.