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Five AM the only time of the day where everything at base was quiet. Even night dwellers like Ava had given up at that point, and not even the earliest bird among the others were up yet.
Bucky thought he could have the kitchen to himself to make himself a halfway decent coffee and read the newspaper, as it was usually the case.
Not today.
He heard a strangled sound from just behind a corner, in the hallways that lead down to the gym. He knew the voice. He heard also the distinct tap of heavy tears hitting the concrete floor, and another chocked sob.
His first instinct was to let him be, to keep walking towards the kitchen and mind his own business… then mused his first instinct was probably wrong. Bucky never lived with other people, not in a very very very very very long time. Sociality didn’t come easy to him, but he was making an attempt… this seemed one of those occasions where maybe he was supposed to make an attempt.
He turned the corner, finding Walker bundled on the floor, knees to his chest and back against the wall, tense like a violin string, so compressed unto himself he managed somehow to look small.
Bucky squatted next to him, without saying anything, waiting for a sign of acknowledgement, that came in the form of John’s shoulders relaxing slightly, his legs sliding forward just enough that now Bucky could take a peak of his face, forehead resting against his knees, eyes red and raw.
“Do I have to punch your boyfriend?”
Bucky asked, letting himself sit down next to the other man.
John’s lips pursed in the faintest hint of a smile, as he shook his head.
“Do I have to call your boyfriend?”
Another head shake, but this time John was getting tense again, like the idea just added another stab to the bleeding wound he was nursing in his chest. Not good. Bucky could let that be, stop prodding and go back to his morning routine… but that was not what he needed to do.
“Want to talk to me then?”
John closed his eyes and inhaled. He furrowed his brows, trying to rummage in his mind for ways to express the thunderstorm his brain had trapped him in, to give words and a name to the crushing feeling choking him.
Bucky had been there, he didn’t rush him.
They sat in silence for what probably were five minutes, if not ten.
Then Walker, nearly in a whisper, voice raw and tangled, answered his question.
“I’m going to fuck it up, Buck.”
And here it was.
Since the Void, since the Rooms, Bucky had been a bit worried about both Walker and Ava. He himself had been putting in the works for a while in regards of his own sleuth of trauma, Yelena and Alexei had talked it out among themselves, but neither John nor Ava had shared anything, and he had seen their faces when they all met in Bob’s final Room. Ava was masking it under the relief for seeing Yelena alive, and she was good at not letting people into her business, but Walker was shellshocked, trying to joke to hide it, his voice trembling… it had to give at some point. It didn’t escape Bucky that for weeks John would flinch every time he and Bob came in contact, tense, terrified it was going to trigger another trip down memory lane (which made it even more unexpected when two months later he found John straddling on Bob’s lap, the two kissing like desperate teenagers), and it looked like now all that had been boiling under, suppressed clumsily in an attempt of keeping it together, was finally spilling out.
“Walker…” Bucky began, trying to devise some supportive pep talk he could give him, rehashing his talks with his therapist is search for the right words. But John was not done talking.
“I’m going to fuck up being a hero again, like I did last time. I’m going to fuck up protecting the team, like I did with Lemar. I’m going to fuck up with Bob, like I did with Olivia. I’m…” he took a shaky breath, a fresh tear rolling down his cheek “I’m going to fuck up with my son…” John couldn’t suppress a sob now, and tried hide his face in his hands “I always think I’ve got this and I never do. I never do…”
So that was it then.
Bucky put an hand on John’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly.
“You know it’s not true.” he began, getting closer, making sure there was no distance between them “Shit happens John. We fall, we get up, we try another time.”
“And why would it go differently?”
“You can’t be sure it will, but deciding it won’t in advance is not going to help. Olivia agreed you can see your kid right? She isn’t going to get lawyers involved or anything, this is good!”
“But what if she’s wrong and I shouldn’t see him?” John blurted out, a open wound pouring pain into his voice, cracking under pressure. “What if having me in it will ruin his life… I fucking cleaved a guy’s head off while people live-streamed it, he’s going to… having me as his father is only going to fuck him up, what if… what if he’d be better off without me and I'm being a selfish prick by wanting to be there?”
“Man, don’t…”
Tears were digging trails down John’s face as Bucky dragged him in a half embrace, Walker hiding his face against the other man’s shoulder, sobbing openly now. There was nothing Bucky could do now other than give him space to let it all out, waiting for him to calm down enough to try talk him out of that spiral.
He heard Bob’s steps coming down the corridor just when he was only a few metres away. He felt him linger in front of them, then heard the rustling of Bob’s clothes as he sat down and glanced at him.
Bob was sitting cross legged, just in front of John, who was shaken by hiccups while weeping, all the trapped pain and hurt that had been nestling in his chest, cleaving away his certainties and his confidence piece by piece, finally unable to be kept at bay. He didn’t say anything, just reached out to touch John’s face, nudging him to turn, to see him. Bucky saw the man give Walker a weak smile, brows furrowed slightly, while he brushed away some tears with his thumb.
“What’s up, sunshine?”
John seemed to grasp for air for a moment, battling between leaning into Bob’s touch and recoiling from it. He grabbed his hand, squeezing it for dear life, using his other one to try clean his swollen red eyes from the tears that did not want to stop rolling out, heavy and thick and inexorable. John voice was coarse, strained. It was a plea, a confession, the petrifying recognition of his biggest fear.
“I don’t want to be a shit dad.”
“Oh John…”
Bob dragged him into a hug, a proper one, arms supporting Walker and welcoming him in, letting the other man crush into him like a boat crashing into shore, weeping into his shirt as his breath battled in a desperate effort to let some oxygen in, trembling.
“You won’t be a shit dad.” Bob said with a certainty in his voice Bucky didn’t remember ever hearing from him “You haven’t done anything you can’t make up for yet. I’m a world leading expert in shit fathers and trust me, you won’t be one.”
John let out a pained wail, digging himself a hole inside of Bob’s embrace, clawing to his shirt.
Bucky’s hand was on John’s back, gently rubbing it, while Bob did the same running his fingers through Walker’s hair, for what could have been an eternity, or barely two minutes.
Slowly the sobs calmed down, the storm subsiding.
They exchanged a look, both nodding when it seemed John’s breath was back to a normal rhythm instead of hyperventilating.
Bucky leaned to the side to get close enough to be sure John could hear him while still hidden between Bob’s arms.
“It’s going to be ok, Walker. You’re going to be an at least ok dad, I promise you.” John finally turned to face him, his whole body abandoned into Bob’s protective hold. “I mean, if Alexei kinda managed, you are definitely going to ace it.”
A smile.
Weak, strained, but that was a proper smile, Bucky could see some relief under it, could notice the clouds clearing.
“Thanks Bucky.”
“No problem, man.”
Bob too seemed to relax at that exchange.
He was keeping it together for John’s sake, but Bucky was observant: the spasms in his hands didn’t escape him, nor the worry in his face. He sighed in relief, and kissed the top of John’s head, before running his shirt sleeves under his eyes to help him clean up.
“I've got you, ok?” Bob told John, holding gently his face in his hands, making their foreheads touch. “All of us. We've all got your back, like you guys all've got mine. You're not alone, we’ll help you figure it out.”
Bucky didn’t want to stare but couldn’t help but being dragged into it.
That’s what living with other people does, right? Drags you into things.
That was not something he was used to, but at the same time, it felt like the most natural way to be in that moment. In a dark corridor at 5 in the morning, he and Bob held John’s hands, shooting his fears, talking him down from the brink of despair.
That was what a team was.
That was what they were going to be for each other.
Bucky smiled.
None of them had to do it alone.