Chapter Text
One month after Bucky had come out of cryofreeze, Steve screwed up. Monumentally.
After weeks of therapy and physical tests the doctors in the Wakanda medical facility were convinced they had successfully neutralized the trigger words in Bucky’s head. It wasn't as physically painful as having the triggers built into his mind, but it wasn't a walk in the park to relive all the terrible things Hydra had made him do. Bucky would be glad to never think about that stuff again....and the fact he still dreamt about it almost every night didn't help. Steve was there, each time he woke up or panicked in the middle of the night, holding him tightly and comforting him.
Ever since he had come out of cryo Steve had been by his side playing the role of supportive boyfriend, which in this relationship occasionally meant serving as a sparring partner in Bucky's physical recovery and reconditioning. The techs were still developing a new arm for Bucky, so when he had joked that Steve had the upper hand Steve jokingly held his left arm behind his back.
"If I'm gonna beat you, it better be a fair fight," Steve said.
Bucky shook his head and laughed. "Use both hands and I'll still kick your ass, old man," Bucky shot back.
They danced around each other, landing a few preliminary hits.
"We should get out of here," Steve said, blocking Bucky's punch.
"It's a pretty beautiful city out there," Bucky said. "Date night?" He kicked his right foot forward, connecting hard with Steve's ribs.
"No, I mean out of here. Wakanda. Get back into the real world." Steve swiped his own foot out, tripping Bucky and landing him on the ground. The solider rolled away, springing back up.
"Right, Captain America and the Winter Soldier, bet it'll be really easy for us to walk around Times Square."
Steve grinned. "Ok, that might be too public. But you know what I mean. We can't hide here forever."
"It's safe here," Bucky replied, lunging at Steve again. "Have you seen those Wakandan guards? Even I'd have trouble breaking past them."
"You're not a prisoner here," Steve said.
Bucky shrugged, blocking Steve's kick and propelling him sideways. "I can't hurt anyone here."
"That's what you're worried about? Bucky, you're not dangerous anymore. Think about it, we could go wherever, do whatever."
"Save the world?"
Steve smiled. "Obviously."
"You're still that kid from Brooklyn who couldn't pass up a chance to do the right thing." Bucky frowned. "And you know I'd follow you anywhere ... But I can't, Steve, not this time. We can't be sure that I'm completely safe --”
“You’re free. You’re out. They can’t control you anymore.”
“You don’t know that, Steve. You don’t.” Bucky ducked left, narrowly missing Steve’s right hook. “And until we know for sure, we can’t risk me back in the field. It’s too dangerous.”
Bucky shook his head, taking another swing, his right hand connecting hard with Steve’s blocking arm.
“You’ve done weeks of therapy and reconditioning.” Steve paused for a moment and lowered his arm, defenseless. “What are you waiting for? What are you scared of?”
"You think I'm safe? Really truly safe?" Bucky's eyes darkened in challenge. "Use your other hand."
Steve looked at him confused.
"Do it."
Steve pulled his left arm forward, stepping back into a simple blocking stance. Bucky was on him in an second. Blow after blow, each well coordinated and aimed at Steve -- even with one arm, the former assassin landed hit after hit on him breaking through his defenses.
Steve seemed surprised by the sudden aggression and blocked as best he could, but could still feel the occasional foot, knee, elbow and fist getting past him. This was gonna sting when they were done.
"You think I'm safe? That I'm cured?" Bucky shouted, finally landing Steve into a chokehold from behind. "I could kill you," he said quietly and Steve felt his blood run cold at Bucky’s tone. "I could leave you paralyzed. I've done it so many times, I know exactly where to apply pressure to the spine. You think I'm not dangerous after a month of therapy? You think they took the killer out of me?"
"You were never a killer Bucky," Steve said quietly, fighting for air. "You're a victim and you can't hide in their shadow forever."
Bucky loosened his grip a tiny bit. It was enough. Steve wrenched his arm off and flipped Bucky over, sending his hurling across the mat.
"I know you're ok, the doctors deprogrammed whatever shit Hydra put in your head. You aren't their weapon anymore." The two began to spar again. Steve continued. "You aren't under their control. You've worked so hard to be free why would you want --". His words were cut off by a fist to his face.
"You're wrong," Bucky whispered.
"No, I'm not, and I'll prove it." Steve landed a solid hit, knocking him to the ground. He held Bucky down in place and met his eyes. "Longing. Rusted. Seventeen. "
Bucky's expression changed from annoyance to horror and disgust. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"Daybreak."
Bucky kicked Steve off of him and made a reach for his mouth. "Stop it!"
"Furnace." Steve backed away, keeping distance between them as Bucky advanced, trying to stop him.
"Steve, this isn't funny. Stop! You're crazy. Enough."
"Nine."
"ENOUGH!" Bucky slammed him into the wall, his hand around Steve's mouth. "Why, Steve? I thought ..." He stepped back, his face falling in sadness. "Why...?"
"You're not --"
Bucky turned and slammed his fist into the wall, just inches from Steve’s face. "Just. Stop." He pulled the boxing glove off his hand and let it fall to the ground. Shoulders shaking as he fought the urge to either cry or scream, he opened the door and left.
Steve leaned back against the wall, watching him go. He had only wanted to prove --. It was stupid. And it hadn't worked. And now he was left wondering if he had fucked up too much to fix. The look of betrayal and pain in Bucky's eyes haunted him as he slowly undid his own gloves.
* * *
Bucky had wandered in the Wakandan gardens for a long while before coming back to their room. Their room. The one he shared with Steve. Steve, who had betrayed his trust ...
He stood by the window, lost in thought, gazing out at the jungle. He was still remembering Steve, was still piecing it all back together -- their time before the war, the relationship they both wanted but couldn't have. And then everything that he'd done to Steve as the Winter Soldier. He couldn't unsee it. Whenever he closed his eyes the faces of people he had killed, empires he had toppled, lives he had destroyed -- it all came back to him in a freakish nightmare loop.
Through it all, Steve had believed in him, had truly thought Bucky was worth saving. It should have been a blessing, waking up in a century where they didn't have to hide, where they were accepted together. Well, ok they still had to hide, but that had nothing to do with the fact they finally shared a bed.
Two super-soldiers from another century hiding out from a few world governments ... It wasn't cut out to be the smoothest relationship. But Steve had crossed a line tonight.
Bucky tried hard to slow his breathing and let go of the anger coursing through him. For so long those trigger words had been his nightmare, and now he would have the memory of Steve saying them. Of Steve trying to pull out the worst in him --
"I'm sorry."
Bucky jumped slightly. He'd been so lost in thought he hadn't heard Steve enter the room.
"Buck, I screwed up. I'm so sorry."
Bucky took another deep breath before turning to face him. Steve was still wearing the sweat soaked t-shirt and sweatpants they'd been sparring in. He'd closed the door to the room and was standing close to it -- possibly an escape route, or possibly trying to give Bucky space.
"I know you're angry at me and you have every right --"
"You're damn right I'm angry," Bucky cut him off. "Do you know what could have happened? Do you have any idea -"
"I trust you."
"Trust me? It's not me you have to worry about. "Me" isn't the one who would have snapped you in two and thrown you across the room. "Me" isn't the one who would have wreaked havoc on --"
"I wouldn't have let that happen," Steve started to say. "I would've --"
"You would've what, controlled me?!" Bucky demanded, his hand clenching into a fist, his anger rising again. "Is that it, Steve? You want your go at ordering the Winter Soldier around? Think it's fun to be the puppet master?"
Bucky had closed the gap between them, planting himself in front of Steve, who frustratingly looked incredibly calm.
"No! How could you even think that? I was saying I would have stopped you, I would've knocked you out or tied you up or locked you --"
"That’s still control." Bucky said bitterly. "Besides, even if you could have stopped me physically it wouldn't have stopped ..." He stopped, taking a step back and turning away from Steve. He was trying so hard to hold it together, and the gentle hand that Steve placed on his shoulder wasn't helping.
"Wouldn't have stopped what?" Steve asked gently. Bucky didn't reply. A long moment of silence passed between them before Steve realized ..."The memories, they're stronger when you're triggered? The faces are clearer when you're the Soldier?"
Bucky nodded. Fucking Steve and his goddamn intuition.
"I didn't know," Steve said quietly. "Oh god, I'm so sorry, I didn't know." He stepped closer to Bucky's back, placing his arms around Bucky's waist and pulling them close together, his head on Bucky's shoulder, their cheeks lightly touching. "I'm sorry, Buck. I wanted so badly to show you I trust you, that you’re cured. But I screwed up. You're not the Soldier anymore. You're a good man, and I'm not giving up on you," Steve said quietly. "I just... I just wanted to show you that. Please forgive me."
Bucky reached his arm up and grasped Steve's hand with his. He could feel his breathing evening out and his anger melting away.
"If you ever pull something like that again, I'll kick your ass so hard."
Steve smiled into his shoulder. He pulled lightly on Bucky's waist to spin him around. "Never," he promised, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.
Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve's neck, running his hand through his hair. "I mean it, old man,” he said, kissing him again.
Steve pulled back first. "I'm sorry," he said again, meeting Bucky's gaze.
Bucky smirked at him. "I know. Why don't you show me just how sorry?" He gently pushed Steve backwards towards their bed.