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It didn't happen quite as often anymore, but Bucky still had nightmares about the things he'd done- the things his body had done- as the Winter Soldier. He had nightmares about the war- the captivity and torture he’d endured before and after being taken by Hydra. Bucky even had nightmares about the aliens- great big ships beyond imagination filling the Earth’s atmosphere.
On a good night, he’d manage all three.
Tonight was a good night.
Before, he’d woken up alone, sweating, after tossing and turning relentlessly to the tortures his mind reproduced. It was expected, Dr. Raynor had said- one of the few pieces of advice she’d given that was actually useful to him. Nearly all soldiers had nightmares about their time in service, no matter their part in it. War was no easy thing to bear, she’d said. And he’d had to bear more than most.
It used to be, men came home from war, except they really didn’t, their minds stuck in the things they’d seen- the things they had done- and not being able to make peace with it. Men- and women- still came home the same way, but there were resources now to help them overcome the horrors their minds subjected them to.
If they were lucky enough to get them, John had grimaced when it was brought up in discussion one day, and Bucky remembered how the other man had been left without any resources, stripped of everything after so many years of service. It had been one of many reminders to Bucky how strong John really was underneath the unbothered facade.
Tonight he woke up, and there was a warm body beside him, breathing too steadily to be truly asleep, but Bucky appreciated that John tried. Sometimes Bucky needed that- to pretend that he wasn’t causing John or anyone else trouble with his shit. Other times, Bucky wanted the warmth and comfort of the other man’s arms. They’d only been together for a short time, but Bucky already knew he’d fight tooth and nail to keep this- him. John.
John must have sensed that Bucky wasn’t about to lay down again, so he stirred for real next to Bucky, sitting up and rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright?”
It was a rhetorical question, but one John always asked to gauge how much Bucky needed him.
The already-familiar question, asked in that particular tone of sleepy concern, caused a wave of affection to crash over Bucky. Fuck, but he loved John Walker. More and more every day that passed. Even if he hadn’t said it yet.
And with that wave of love came a sudden fear- did John really deserve this? This, this burden, of waking up next to someone with nightmares, who might lash out in a blind, destructive panic at any moment. Bucky had vowed to himself all those months ago that he’d be what John needed- and John didn’t need something else weighing him down.
“Hey.” A warm palm on his cheek brought him back. “Where did you go just now?”
Bucky offered him a flicker of a smile. “Nowhere.”
John snorted. “Bullshit. I know that look of self-recrimination. I’ve worn it for years.”
He closed his eyes, covering John’s hand with his own, turning slightly into his palm. “I promised myself a long time ago that I’d be someone you could lean on. That I wouldn’t be a burden you had to bear.”
“You’re not,” John said immediately, like Bucky had known he would.
Bucky scoffed. “You can’t tell me you signed up to be woken up by someone else having nightmares nearly every night.”
“I did.” Bucky’s eyes shot open and found bright blue immediately. “You think you having nightmares is a surprise to me? After all the shit you’ve been through over the years? You really think I didn’t expect it?” John’s gaze was steady; the hand on his face still gentle.
After a moment, Bucky licked at his dry bottom lip, and watched John's gaze flutter down to the movement reflexively before darting up again. “No, I guess not.”
“Then don’t worry about it.” He gave Bucky’s head a little shake. “I’m here for you, just like you are for me.” There was a hesitance, as if John was considering saying something else. “I love you,” he finally added softly.
Bucky’s heart lurched. It was the first time either of them had said it out loud, even though Bucky had known it for a long time. He leaned forward, resting his head against John’s. “I love you, too,” he vowed quietly. Forever.