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Warmth seeps into his skin like molten lava, flooding through the side of his face and down his neck. He lets out a small noise, pressing into the welcome heat, eyes still closed.
Someone sighs in front of him. A finger strokes his cheekbone patiently, palm supporting his jaw. The large hand is curled softly, protectively, over the right side of his cool, damp face.
There was no one else Bucky could think of in his muddled mind that would even dare touch him like this…
“Steve?” The voice sounds far away, like garbled gravel, as he tries to make his throat work, tongue heavy in his mouth. He licks his dry lips, tingling as the blood vessels start to wake up.
“I'm here.” The responding voice is so soft, so familiar. He instinctively leans towards it, a small whine escaping his scratchy throat at the very notion of comfort. Of home.
There's a shushing and another hand comes to place itself on his artificial shoulder, supporting his leaning weight easily. The hand on the side of his face temporarily moves to run fingers through his dark, wet hair, brushing the strands back and away from his face. Then it is placed gently back where it was, thumb tracing stubble.
Blearily, he tries blinking. Eyes fluttering as his damp eyelashes pull apart. There's no harsh light greeting his hazy eyes. No harsh sounds berate his eardrums. No harsh touches rake over his body. Only softness. Only quiet. Only gentleness.
“There he is,” Steve's voice comes as a gentle rumble, reverberating into Bucky's chest where emotion begins to swell, just as he's finally getting his bearings.
He eventually holds his ice blue eyes open and is greeted by a watercolor Steve looking right back at him. He blinks his eyes a few more times as Steve comes into clearer view. He can feel a blanket loosely draped around him. The room is low lit, filled with orange and yellow tones. Warmth.
Steve's left hand slides up to cup his skull, under his ear. Both hands now hold Bucky's weary head steady.
All he sees is Steve.
“Steve,” he tries again, voice still gravelly, but mouth obeying to form sounds.
A sad, sweet, smile appears on the man's face in front of him.
“Hey, Buck.” Again, warm. Welcoming.
A heave wracks through his ribcage as he inhales shakily, eyes never leaving Steve's face. Tears start to well, emotion breaking loose. He doesn't understand… why?
“It's alright,” Steve continues gently, encouraging, “I'm here, it's okay. Let go. It's just me… only us.”
Again, a hand strokes through his hair, petting comfortingly slowly. Both hands cup his jaw, thumbs rubbing soothing circles in the thin skin of his cheeks, where color is starting to return. He didn’t even realize he'd begun crying by now. Why is he crying? Another shudder of a breath carries through him.
Bucky's eyes start to jump around nervously, but Steve holds his face firm, earnest. “Just look at me.”
He snaps his watery eyes back to him, brows furrowed in confusion.
They stare into each other's eyes for a moment longer, salty water streaking into patterns by Steve's stroking thumbs.
Steve. A pillar of support. The gentle strength he needs. A flash of sadness crosses Steve's face before he pulls his hands away just to move his arms in, shifting up to stand. Unable to resist anymore. He has to hold him.
Bucky is pulled into Steve's large chest and warmth blooms through his veins as shivers wrack his shell of a body. All encompassing. He puffs wet breaths into the fabric of his shirt, but Steve doesn't seem to mind as dampness soaks through. Only embraces him tighter.
He doesn't say a word... just holds him.
Bucky is internally thankful for the silence, sinking further into him. The only sounds are his own stuttered breathing, Steve's steady one's, and a strong heartbeat in his ear. Grounding him. Lending him its strength, encouraging his own to pump warmth back into his veins, as his body comes back to life.
He manages to bring his own arms up and shakily holds them around Steve's middle. Steve doesn’t flinch at the ice cold metal, holding firm. After a moment Bucky tightens his own grip on Steve's shirt, the muscle underneath, in a silent beg. Please don't go yet. Scared this wasn't real, just another delusion in his head. Too good to be real. Scrambling for this shred of comfort.
Words never needed to understand between them, Steve replies reassuringly, mouth now pressed into his still damp hair, “I'm here. I’m not going anywhere. You're with me. Safe.”
He doesn't know how much time has passed by the time he gradually lessens his hold, catching his breath. Steve does the same, but he doesn't back away, staying close. His hands falling to lay on Bucky’s shoulders.
Bucky swallows, eyes a little red. He doesn't look up, focusing on the lacing of Steve's shoes, where they are bracketing his own bare feet resting between. A sort of pitiful symbolism.
“Buck?”
He sniffles, rubbing the back of his right hand across his nose. He shakes his head, “sorry…”
There's movement in front of him as Steve crouches back down in front of where Bucky’s sitting, one hand finding his knee and squeezing.
Steve tilts his head down a little to try and meet him, “there's nothing to be sorry for.”
Bucky briefly meets his sky blue eyes, before his eyes gaze back down at where he's now rubbing his hands, metal and flesh, together anxiously in his lap. Another shiver wracks through him as his body tries to adjust.
It's small, almost inaudible, “...probably look pathetic.”
Steve's brows furrow at that, mouth set in a hard line. “It looks like strength to me.”
Bucky's eyes snap up, boring into Steve's own, unbelieving. Questioning, searching for the truth of it.
After a moment of silence, Bucky speaks.
“I've never…” he trails off before he takes a breath, looking around the dim, quiet room. Willing his emotion to ebb away before continuing.
Steve's hand rubs up and down his knee, the outside of his thigh.
“I've never had this kind of… softness,” he chews his lip. “This gentleness… this comfort and warmth… after waking up,” he chokes, glancing at the cryogenic chamber.
Steve's heart breaks silently, head falling, but he stays strong for Bucky at this moment. Thinking of all the times HYDRA would've kept him in that state, only defrosting him when he needed to be used. Never handled with care. Just enough that he was functional. The serum helping to keep his body running no matter the level of mistreatment. Steve takes a large breath, hands finding his face again, and holding his gaze.
“You deserve it. Gentleness, comfort, warmth… softness … all of it and more,” Steve lightly shakes him. “I will be here every time, from now on, if ever you have to go back into cryo… I will be here when you wake up,” there's a pleading in his voice. Please never go back into cryo. I need you with me. Always.
A soft, affectionate breath of “Steve,” escapes Bucky's lips.
Steve swallows, willing the emotion down with a small noise, and failing. His own eyes shimmering.
“Come here,” Bucky reaches out and Steve falls into him.
“Thank you,” he breathes into golden hair, pursing his lips into a press of a kiss.
Steve’s own face, is now pressing lovingly into Bucky’s cool chest, where he’s crouched between his legs. Bucky hunches over him, arms surrounding him, cheek resting on top of Steve’s head.
Strong arms tighten around Bucky as they press ever closer, melting into one shape.
Between them, only warmth.