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Bucky isn’t sure what compelled him to drive to Gotham City tonight. It was absolutely a compulsion, a gut feeling, that he needs to be here, though. “Here” being the apartment he’d woken up in, in the wrong body, all those months ago.
He doesn’t have keys, and Jason’s security is top-notch, but Bucky is the Revolution, and he bypasses the system and slips inside, where the smell of blood hits his nose along with a sense of pain.
“Jason?” Bucky calls out.
The apartment is silent, but not the silence of an empty space. Bucky makes his way towards the bathroom, where the scent of blood is stronger. And fresh.
“Jason, it’s just me, I’m coming in, okay? Don’t shoot me.” Bucky pauses outside the bathroom door.
From the other side, Jason exhales. “Yeah. Okay.”
Bucky pushes the door open. Jason leans against the counter, his shirt rucked up and a saline wash against his abdomen, cleaning what looks to be a vicious knife wound. He Kevlar sits discarded on the floor, his gloves on top, soaked in blood.
“Shit, Jason,” Bucky exclaims, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I’ve had worse,” Jason huffs.
Bucky meets his eyes with a glare, but they both dissolve into laughter.
“Yeah, that’s fair,” Bucky concedes. “Will you let me help, or do I need to—”
“You can help,” Jason says, his eyes going wide, surprised with the quickness he accepts.
Bucky nods, then reaches out slowly. “I’m just gonna take a look, then we’ll get this cleaned up, okay?”
Jason swallows. “Okay.” He moves his hands out of the way, letting Bucky assess the wound. Bucky moves softly but efficiently, cleaning the wound and stitching it up neatly before covering it with a bandage.
He stands up, offering Jason his hand. Jason hesitates only half a moment before grasping it, pulling himself carefully to standing.
“Thanks,” he says quietly. Then, “What are you even doing here?”
Bucky gives his hand a reassuring squeeze before releasing it. “I just had a feeling, like I needed to be here. Maybe next time, you could give me a call?”
Jason’s shoulders slump. “I don’t—I don’t do so well, asking for help.”
“Neither do I,” Bucky confides. “But I think we’re supposed to be okay asking each other. Otherwise, the soulbond gets really insistent.”
Jason makes his way through the apartment and sinks into the couch with a sound that is half sigh, half groan. Bucky retrieves a water bottle from the kitchen and hands it to him.
“Do you think you can eat something?” Bucky asks, eyeing the fridge.
Jason’s eyebrow arches upwards. “You’re not offering to cook, are you?”
Bucky blinks, then holds up his phone. “I was just going to order something, but if you want—”
“No. Please, don’t. No one is allowed to use the kitchen but me. Order whatever. And, thanks, Bucky.” Jason shifts to make room for him on the couch.
“Anytime,” Bucky tells him, opening an app and holding the phone so Jason can see. “Any preference?”
Jason pokes at the screen, then nods before tilting his head back and closing his eyes. Bucky goes tense beside him. “I’m not gonna die on you, Bucky,” he says. “Just resting.”
Bucky is silent for a moment. Jason feels him shift, then gentle lips press to his temple.
“Good. Once is enough for each of us.”