Work Text:
I: Alexei
Bucky patrolled the tower at night when he couldn’t fall asleep. Maybe patrol was a strong word—it was more aimless than a patrol, more of a wandering. But he’d walk the halls and still check on things like one would on a patrol—that doors were locked, windows were shut, weapons put away as they should be.
When he got to the shared living space, he wasn’t entirely surprised to hear the television was still on—he wasn’t the only thunderbolt who sometimes had trouble sleeping.
However, it proved not to be the case in this instance. Bucky couldn’t help chuckling to himself when he found Alexei, eyes closed, lying in his impressively large recliner, fast asleep as infomercials played on the TV. He saw no harm in leaving Alexei there to sleep, but he still went over to make sure he was comfortable.
Bucky pulled up the blanket that was mostly pooling on the floor, draping it back over Alexei’s lap, and he found the remote nearly lost to the crevice between the cushions, clicking off the TV.
“Buchanan,” Alexei’s low voice rumbled. “Why are you interrupting my shows?”
“Jesus, I thought you were asleep,” Bucky said, laughing off his initial startle.
“I was watching my shows.”
“With your eyes closed, huh?”
Alexei only grumbled in response, reaching to grab the remote and turn the TV back on. “What am I supposed to do, solnyshko, fall asleep in the quiet?” He scoffed, as if it was an absurd idea.
Bucky’s cheeks warmed. He recognized the Russian word as a term of endearment, knew its literal meaning and that it was a common pet name. Alexei used pet names with all of the thunderbolts—this wasn’t new, but anytime he used one with Bucky, it still got to him. Because in his past life, when Russian was spoken to him, at him, it was never with such warmth and kindness. He was never the subject of such niceties, never given such endearments.
Bucky shrugged, ignoring the warmth in his chest. “Sorry, didn’t realize the home shopping channel was so peaceful.”
“Perfect sleeping conditions,” Alexei confirmed. “No loud commercials to interrupt a show when whole thing is a commercial, hmm?”
“Genius,” Bucky teased, smiling when Alexei smirked.
“Come on, now,” Alexei said, and Bucky didn’t know what he meant. When he just furrowed his brow in question, Alexei set the remote back down to the near-crevice, and raised his hand, giving a beckoning gesture. “You do not believe me. Try for yourself.”
“Me?” Bucky asked dumbly. “Now?”
“Yes—is late. Even supersoldiers need good sleep. Come, join.”
Bucky let out a small laugh, if it could even be called that. He looked around the otherwise empty room, as if there’d be an answer in it. But when his eyes landed back on Alexei, he just kept his hand up in offer, making the beckoning gesture again.
And it was late—maybe Bucky was tired. Maybe there was something about the even-keeled droning on of the woman on the TV selling scarves that was oddly comforting. Bucky couldn’t seem to find a reason to say no.
He took his hand, and Alexei shifted to the side, making room for Bucky to settle on the recliner underneath the blanket with him—there was just enough room for the two of them, Bucky on his side, pressed against Alexei. Alexei’s arm went around Bucky’s shoulders, and Bucky found the easiest place to rest his hand was on Alexei’s chest.
Once they were comfortable, at first Bucky watched the TV screen, but that didn’t feel restful. He glanced at Alexei to see his eyes were closed again, but Bucky didn’t feel tired enough yet to follow suit. Instead he looked down at the body he was cuddled against. Alexei was wearing a tank top and a bathrobe that was mostly open, and Bucky found himself studying the ink that covered basically every inch of skin that peaked through his clothes.
Some of them were faded, some even overlapped, and many Bucky couldn’t make sense of. But there was something still nice about them. Before he thought about it, his hand shifted from the cloth of the tank top, and his fingers started tracing over the ink, trying to make sense of where one image stopped and the next started.
He froze when Alexei sniffed a small laugh.
“Sorry—is that bothering you?” Bucky asked.
“Maybe a little ticklish in places, but I do not mind, solnyshko,” Alexei said, his voice more of a whisper now that Bucky was so close.
“I can stop.”
“If it helps you relax, you do not have to.”
“Okay.”
They fell quiet again, the shopping channel spokeswoman sparing them from silence, and Bucky continued to trace Alexei’s tattoos. He noticed Alexei’s breathing grow heavier and steadier, and he was more confident than before that he’d actually fallen asleep this time. Bucky continued his small ministrations, letting his mind wander; the words on TV turned to nonsense, just soothing background noise. His body relaxed against the warmth of Alexei’s, and he closed his eyes, his fingers stilling against the ink of Alexei’s skin as he fell asleep.
II: Bob
It started with a text from Yelena to the group chat: I can’t find Bob.
It wasn’t immediately an emergency—the tower was large, and Bob often left his phone places by mistake, so he wasn’t the best at responding to calls or texts. The bolts all started a calm search, a simple divide and conquer to check the main rooms Bob frequented first.
Bucky, alone in his search, decided to check the place so obvious that maybe the others would forget to look: Bob’s bedroom. Bob had his quirks, so maybe he was in the room but not in plain sight. Perhaps he’d tucked into a corner or ended up in the closet, or maybe he was in bed piled high with so many pillows that Yelena had missed him.
But he had no luck there, either—the pillows really were just pillows. It was only just as he was about to leave that he did a quick check in the en suite bathroom.
Bob was sleeping in the bathtub. A shower/bath combination, he’d laid some towels down, and was curled up in the tub.
Bucky texted the group: Found him. I’ll keep him company.
He walked up to the tub, sitting down on its edge. “Bob? Bob, you alright?”
Bucky knew better than to touch Bob without warning, and Bob was a light sleeper anyway. He stirred, his eyes blinking a few times before he lifted his head and looked up.
“Oh, hey Bucky,” he said, a small smile itching at his lips.
“Hey, punk,” Bucky said affectionately. “So, ah—why are you sleeping in the tub?”
“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Bob said, shifting his weight to rest more on his back than his side. “I’ve slept in far worse places.”
Bucky sniffed a laugh. “You and me both.”
“Yeah?”
Bucky nodded. He did not miss the cryochamber he used to wake from, restrained, cold—scared. He wasn’t supposed to be, but he was always scared. He blinked, focusing back on Bob in the low light. “But you have a whole nice bed now. So what’s going on?”
Bob’s smile vanished. “I—I’ll sound crazy.”
“Try me.”
“I was trying to sleep in bed, but—I kept hearing something. It started freaking me out. I got worried it was the Void, or related to him somehow,” Bob said. He lifted a shaky hand up to run over his face, and then shook his head. “I came in here and couldn’t hear it anymore, so. Like I said, throw a few towels down and a bathtub really is about as comfortable as a bed anyway. Felt safer than risking it, you know?”
Bucky hummed. “I get that. I’ll check your room, see if I can find any physical sources, okay? What did it sound like?”
Bucky knew Bob always appreciated when people took his concerns seriously—he’d been dismissed and neglected far too much in his life before the bolts.
“I dunno, like a rattling sound?”
Bucky nodded. “I’ll see what I can find, okay?”
It only took Bucky five minutes to find and correct the problem. He returned to the bathroom.
“It was real,” Bucky said, and Bob sighed in relief. “One of the vents on the ceiling had gotten loose, was shaking whenever the heat was on. I fixed it for you, should be quiet now.”
“Thanks, Bucky.”
Bucky smiled, stepping up to the tub. “Can we get you to a real bed, now?”
Bob nodded, but then flinched away when Bucky started to lean down into his space. “Maybe you shouldn’t—I can get up on my own. I don’t wanna—you know—by mistake.”
Bucky hummed in understanding. But he didn’t want Bob to be denied touch, affection, just because of his powers—it would only make him feel worse, isolated, which only increased the likelihood of a Void appearance. Not only that, but it wasn’t fair to Bob, as a person. He deserved care.
Bucky kept his voice calm. “It wasn’t the Void; it was just a vent. You’re feeling okay otherwise, right?”
Bob chewed on his lip, considering for a moment, and then nodded.
Bucky sat down on the edge of the tub again, and met Bob’s eyes. He said in nearly a whisper, “You can’t show me anything I haven’t already seen on my own. I’m willing to try if you are.”
“Okay.”
Bucky smiled. He reached over with his real hand, brushing the hair away from Bob’s face. Bob smiled at the touch. He reached up, taking Bucky’s hand, and their gaze met again.
Bucky teasingly looked around the bathroom. “Well, we’re still here.”
“That’s a relief.”
Bucky hummed in agreement. He then stood up from the tub, bending down, and Bob wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck while Bucky got a hold around his back and under his knees. He lifted Bob up, carrying him back to bed.
“Can you stay?” Bob asked. “Just in case—you know, the vent starts rattling again.”
“Sure.”
Bucky assumed Bob meant for him to just stay in the room, maybe sit on the small arm chair in the corner, or at the edge of the bed, until Bob fell back asleep. But when Bucky went to set him down on the mattress, Bob’s arms didn’t let go of Bucky. If anything, they tugged him forward.
Bucky flushed, understanding the want, and he managed to settle himself into the bed to join Bob.
“Can you be the big spoon?” Bob asked, not waiting for an answer before turning onto his side, facing away from Bucky.
“I—yeah,” Bucky breathed. He started to settle onto his side, but found his metal arm to be more of a hindrance than help in this case, and he sat up. “Just a second,” he murmured to not confuse Bob, or startle him as he popped the arm out of its socket and placed it on the floor.
Then he was able to scoot right up next to Bob, his chest against his back, as he wrapped his arm around Bob’s stomach. Bob’s hand caught hold of Bucky’s, hugging his arm to his chest.
“Good?” Bucky asked in a whisper.
“Mmhmm,” Bob hummed, seeming to sink deeper into his pillow. He squeezed Bucky’s hand. “You?”
Bucky smiled at the affection. He squeezed back, tucking his nose to Bob’s nape, closing his eyes and enjoying the comfort of having a body to hug onto as his own relaxed. “Yeah. Good.”
III: Ava
It was Bucky’s turn to check on Ava, and he knocked at her door before entering, a fresh mug of tea in hand.
“How’re you feeling?” he greeted as he walked into the room, over to her nightstand to set down the tea.
“Shitty,” Ava said, grimacing as she propped herself up on her elbow. “It’s hard to sleep when everything hurts.”
“Well, brought you some chamomile. Maybe it can help,” Bucky said.
She hummed, grabbing the tea and taking a sip, before setting it back on the nightstand and lying down with an annoyed groan. “I hate that I’m like this.”
Bucky nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I get that. My arm can be a pain, too.”
“Yeah?” she asked, her brow pinched, probably more in pain than curiosity, but Bucky nodded and explained anyway.
“Yeah, it can feel heavy, gets sore more easily, that kind of thing. My shoulder even aches when it’s gonna rain,” he said, smiling when the remark made Ava chuckle.
“You really are an old man,” she said.
“Mm,” Bucky hummed at the teasing. “I’m just giving you more ammo for those jokes, huh?”
“I don’t have to tell the others.”
“I don’t mind,” Bucky said honestly.
The way the bolts all joked and teased one another reminded him of his youth, the way the Howling Commandos used to all be close enough with each other to do the same. After decades of being a solo assassin, it felt comforting to be part of inside jokes, even if it meant being the butt of them sometimes.
They exchanged a smile, an understanding passing between them, about going from being a lonely assassin to part of a genuinely caring team. Then Bucky cleared his throat, patting her knee before standing up.
“Anyway, need anything else? A snack, a heating pad…I can grab whatever,” Bucky said.
Ava hummed, considering. “I think I could use a weighted blanket.”
“Yeah? I can see if we have one somewhere, sounds like something Bob would—”
As he started to turn away, Ava sat up enough to grab his wrist and tug him back to the mattress.
“You’ll do,” she said.
“What?” Bucky laughed, but Ava didn’t stop tugging him towards the bed.
“Come on, the weight feels nice. Like all my dumb quantum particles are being squished back into place,” Ava said.
“You know this from experience?” Bucky asked skeptically.
“Yeah, the others will squish me. Guess you can send one of them over here if you really don’t want to,” Ava said, pouting.
Bucky let out a weak laugh. “No, I—I can.”
He settled onto the mattress, at first only lying part of his weight on her, still skeptical. He felt awkward, even though it was what she’d asked for.
“You’re sure I’m not crushing you?” he asked.
“No, it’s nice,” Ava said.
She pulled in and let out a deep, relaxed breath, and Bucky noticed her eyes were closed. She looked more peaceful than she had since he came into the room—no more grimacing, no wincing in pain. Maybe she really was onto something.
Carefully, he settled more of his weight onto her, relaxing his own muscles. “Just shove me off if it gets too much, I guess.”
“Mmhmm.”
Bucky waited until her breathing grew even, and her shoulders twitched—not in discomfort, but rather the opposite. He studied her face, and sure enough, she’d fallen asleep. Smiling, he knew that the rest would help with her pain, too.
He didn’t want to abandon her, but he worried her breathing wasn’t as full as it could be, with his weight crushing her. Rather than leave, he just shifted. Lying onto his side next to her, he kept his head on her shoulder, his arm around her stomach, and his thigh pressed to hers—all so she could still have some weight, some warmth and sense of pressure. Maybe it was still enough to help.
Resting in the dark room, listening to her breathing, knowing that Ava was feeling well enough to sleep, helped Bucky relax, too. Soon, he didn’t bother fighting his eyelids growing heavy, his own breathing going steady, and he hugged onto her as he fell asleep, too.
IV: John
Bucky was sitting across from Walker in the study. It was late, just the lamps on the desk keeping the room from darkness as they quietly shuffled papers around, going through files for a mission. Bucky couldn’t help laughing when John, with his head resting in his hand, nodded off enough that his face fell forward, and he startled awake, catching himself before his head hit the table.
“Time to call it for the night?” Bucky asked.
Walker pulled in a deep breath, shaking his head. “Not yet, I can get these files done first.”
Bucky set down the folder he’d been working on. “Walker, it’s not that much of a rush. We can wrap up in the morning.”
“I’m fine,” John pushed back, even as he had to blink hard to keep his eyes open.
“Uh huh. And how many times did you just read the same sentence on that piece of paper?” Bucky asked.
“A normal amount,” John muttered defensively, although there was a hint of a smile when Bucky chuckled.
“Yeah? What did it say, then?”
“Stuff.”
“Uh huh.” Bucky stretched before standing up. “Alright, I’m calling it. No point in completing the files if you’re too tired to even remember what you’ve read.”
He stepped around to Walker’s side of the table, patting his shoulder, and then tugging his arm when he was ignored. “Come on, big guy.”
John huffed a laugh when Bucky pulled him out of the chair, and he slung his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky couldn’t tell if he was joking with the amount of weight he leaned onto him, or if he really was that tired. He didn’t really mind either way—he liked being useful, helping his teammates.
They fumbled over to the nearest couch, and Bucky guided John to lie down across its length. When he was about to step away, John’s hand grabbed his arm.
“Finish what you started,” Walker said.
“Huh?” Bucky said, unsure what John was referring to.
“You want to make sure I rest? Well, commit to it. C’mere,” John said, tugging at his arm.
“You—really want me to?” Bucky asked.
When the team first formed, Bucky had been skeptical about being wanted across the board. The first time he’d interacted with the bolts was when he’d tried kidnapping them, after all—he wasn’t sure how they felt about the way he’d been thrown into their group. Over time, it became more clear that he was wanted and valued as a member of the team, and he started to let go of those doubts. But of all the members, he was the least sure if that was true for John.
Unlike the rest of the group, he and John had history—a complicated past. They’d talked it out, sure, to a degree; they both agreed that no grudges were being held, that they both wanted to be a part of this team, to get along and work together. Bucky’d had to swallow his pride from his past, since that was all Walker had ever wanted to do in the first place.
But there was a difference between being team members and being close. This invitation that John was offering, no matter how casual he pretended it to be, had a lot of weight to it. It meant more than just no grudges, more than just working together. It meant being close the way Bucky was becoming with the other team members; close in the way the other members were perhaps close with John. He wanted Bucky on the same level as the rest of them.
“Unless you don’t want to,” John said, his grip loosening on Bucky’s arm. “Just figured…I dunno, I sleep better with someone else around. Fewer nightmares. Thought you might be the same.”
Bucky swallowed hard. That was the thing about John—for as much animosity as they used to have, they were actually quite similar. Bucky was the same about nightmares.
Just as it felt like John’s arm was going to drop away, as his mouth opened to say something probably overly sarcastic to make up for the moment of vulnerability, Bucky nudged his shoulder.
“Scoot over, then. Gimme some room.”
John smiled. He shifted to where his side was pressed against the back of the couch, and Bucky lied down next to Walker. His head fit in the crux of his neck and shoulder, and he rested his hand across his chest. It was immediately comfortable.
“You’re like a furnace,” Bucky mumbled. He hadn’t realized how tired he was until he was lying down and cuddled up to another person, especially one who was a supersoldier with impressive body heat radiating off of him.
John chuckled, his arm wrapping around Bucky’s back. “Figured you’d appreciate some warmth after the winter soldier years.”
“Yeah,” Bucky said, without even thinking, hugging closer to John. “I do.”
V: Yelena
Bucky was patrolling the apartment again. When he went through the living room, it looked empty, but he stopped, because he heard something. It was quiet—at first he thought he was just imagining things. But then it happened again. A soft gasp, a whimper. Bucky focused on the sound, realized he could hear breathing in between the whimpers, and he used that to hone in on the location of the source.
Soon enough, he found Yelena, in a place he wouldn’t have ever thought to look. There was a corner of the room where Bob had his arm chair set up next to an end table. The two pieces of furniture were set at an angle that left a space of the corner walls hidden, and that was where Yelena was. It was a tiny space, but she fit, curled in a ball, below the height of the end table. She was trembling, and Bucky realized she was asleep—she was having a nightmare.
At first she just whimpered, breathing heavy, but then she started speaking. It took a second for Bucky to register that what she was saying was in Russian.
“No, please,” she murmured. “I can try again. I can do better—please, don’t—”
Bucky inhaled sharply. He needed to wake her.
Sitting on the chair on his knees to be able to reach her, he grabbed her shoulder, giving it a shake. “Yelena—”
Luckily for Bucky, decades of being the winter soldier meant his instincts sometimes worked faster than his mind could. He blocked a knife with his vibranium hand before he even knew where she pulled it out from.
“Leave me alone!” Yelena shouted, panicked, breathlessly.
“Yelena—stand down,” Bucky said, switching to Russian when she tried to free her hand from his grip. “It’s me; you do not need to fight. It was just a dream!”
Yelena relaxed as his words sunk in, just slightly. She dropped the knife. It was dark enough in the room that she squinted, still dazed from her dream. “Daddy?”
Bucky huffed a laugh. “No, the other old man in this tower who knows Russian.”
She paused, tilting her head, perhaps catching the moonlight coming in from the window to see better. “Bucky?”
“Yeah. You were talking in your sleep, I was trying to help,” Bucky said. He’d grabbed the knife and set it on the table.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry.”
“It’s fine. I have a knife under my mattress, too,” Bucky said lightly, giving a small smirk, but it faded. “Why’re you sleeping tucked in this tiny corner?”
She drew in a breath, hugging her knees to her chest. “Dunno. Just felt safer.”
She blinked, staring at nothing; her eyelids were heavy. She was clearly still exhausted.
Bucky hummed. He tested the waters, landing his hand back on her shoulder, and took it as a good sign when she didn’t flinch. “Would you feel safe if you had a supersoldier to nap with instead?”
“I do not want to be a burden.”
“I was about to go to bed anyway.”
She hummed, looking up at him again, maybe skeptical of his claim. But it must have been too good of an offer, because she shrugged, then nodded. “Okay, fine.”
Bucky smiled.
She lifted her arms up, and he bent down, able to scoop her up easily as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She was light—it was easy to lift her out of the corner, and he kept carrying her until they reached the couch.
He sat down, grabbing the blanket before lying onto his side, and Yelena moved with him, staying curled up to his chest.
He sniffed a laugh. “Lena, you can stretch out now, you’re not in a small space anymore.”
She shook her head. “I like being small.”
“Okay,” he relented, running his hand soothingly up and down her back. “As long as you’re comfortable.”
“It is better than the floor in the corner.”
“Low bar, but I’ll take it,” Bucky teased.
“No, I mean it,” she muttered, her words slurring with sleepiness. “Thank you, Bucky.”
He hugged her, closing his own eyes. He knew he was staying here the rest of the night. “Any time, Lena.”
VI: Bucky
He didn’t know how the bolts knew. He couldn’t recall who had been around when he said it, but when he had, it’d just been in passing: that solo missions reminded him of being the winter soldier. It wasn’t a complaint or a request for them to stop, just a thought that he mentioned; of course, he’d do whatever was needed for the team.
But ever since then, the bolts worked really hard to make sure Bucky didn’t have to go on solo missions. The others would offer to go in his stead, or they’d figure out if the plan could be devised into a pairs or team situation.
This was one of the rare times that he’d had to go on one anyway. He was simply the best suited for the job, and he insisted he’d be fine on his own. It was a short mission anyway, he’d reassured them; he could handle it.
It was only a couple days. It was lonely, quiet like he’d remembered from his winter soldier days, but that was fine. There was one obstacle that made it take longer than expected, but he was good at adapting to unexpected complications, so he was glad he’d been the one on the job.
Once it was done, he went straight back home to the tower, tired with little sleep in the two days he’d been working.
He knew he was part of a team now, had finally started to believe he was wanted there—but even then, Bucky was surprised that everyone had waited up to greet him.
They hugged him, asked how it went, offered to cook or order food so he could have a proper meal.
Bucky hid his blush at their attention by running his gloved hand over his face. “I appreciate it, guys, really. But honestly, I’m more tired than hungry—I just want to wash up and get some sleep, okay?”
They all agreed, and Bucky left the common area to go to his room. He took a long shower, trying to unwind and remind his brain where he was, so he wouldn’t feel disoriented in his sleep, so he wouldn’t have nightmares. He wasn’t the winter soldier anymore. He wasn’t about to be forced into a cryochamber after a mission complete—he was going to get to sleep in his own bed, in his home.
He took off the vibranium arm before settling into the large bed, half wondering what it was so big for, anyway. But he was tired enough that when his head hit the pillows, he was out like a light.
Bucky was used to waking up feeling cold—he’d come to as the mist of the cryochamber’s dry ice dissipated. He’d be in restraints and awake with little understanding, the memories fuzzy and just there enough to remember pain. To remember that waking up was worse than being forced asleep. He’d hear machinery and people barking orders and he’d brace himself for another day of hell.
Bucky wasn’t used to waking up to snoring. To heavy breathing. To warmth. To the only reason he was restrained being the fellow sleeping bodies crowded him against him in a cuddle.
Bucky lifted his head, his eyes squinting in the dim light of his bedroom. And he remembered his bed was so large because none of the bolts liked sleeping alone; they knew he didn’t either. And maybe they’d even missed him.
Alexei was the one snoring. He was high up on the pillow, against the headboard. Ava and Bob were squished between Alexei and Bucky. Ava’s arm was on Bucky’s shoulder, her face tucked near his empty vibranium socket, and Bob was lower, his arm around Bucky’s stomach, his face pressed to his ribs.
Bucky turned his head. On his other side, John was aligned to him, their faces only inches apart. Squished between them was Yelena, curled up in a ball between their chests, hugging onto Bucky’s arm. John’s arm hugged over the whole of her, reaching Bucky, his hand on his chest.
When Bucky stirred, looking around them, John opened his eyes, too. Their gazes met, and John smiled, giving the smallest shrug, as if to answer a question that Bucky had silently asked.
Bucky smiled in return, before he settled back against the pillow, closing his eyes. He listened to their breathing—he appreciated feeling almost too warm. Because it meant belonging; it meant he was no longer alone.