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You woke with a gasp as your lungs were struggling for air. Another nightmare, another panic attack.
Your life leading up to joining the Avengers was far from happy, and you were forced to relive it every single night in your dreams.
You were still gasping for breath when you heard a knock at your door. That did absolutely nothing to help you, in fact, making things much worse.
Who was at your door? Did they hear you? It's not like you could talk and tell them you were fine, you could hardly breath.
Bucky was walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He often found that doing things was a good way to distract from the terrors that hid in his sleep.
He paused when he thought he heard shallow breaths coming from your room. Upon further inspection, he was correct. Being a victim of nightmares himself, he knew how important it was to have someone to lean on, and in that moment he decided he was going to be your person to lean on.
He placed a tentative knock to your door, and when all he got in response was more shallow breathing, he made the bold decision to open your door.
When you saw Bucky was the one behind your door, you immediately felt a small sense of calm. So although you absolutely despised him seeing you like this, you were grateful it was him, and not anybody else.
He immediately walked over to your bed, sitting in the edge with worry written across his face. He lightly pulled your hands in his and gave them a soft squeeze.
You gave his hands a squeeze in return, almost begging him to not let go.
You had always loved Bucky's hands. They were a perfect paradox. Extremely tough and powerful, while also extremely gentle and soft. Everything he touched, he touched with care, even though one of them was made out of vibranium.
The coldness of his metal hand had calmed you significantly, and you hadn't even noticed how Bucky had started to mindlessly intertwine your fingers.
With your breathing now more or less even, and the chances of a sensory overload much lower, you pulled him into a secure hug, burying your face in his shoulder, not currently caring if you stain his shirt with tears.
He hugged you back in a way that truly made your feel like he might never let go. To be honest, you wouldn't really mind.
He slowly began guiding you back to a laying position, with him right next to you.
He slowly brushed the pad of his thumb across your cheek, wiping away stray tears that had fallen since you had separated.
You were quickly becoming tired again, as the energy lost in panic was now catching up to you. You grasped at his hands once again and pulled them to your chest.
"Thank you, Buck." You whispered so quietly he could barely hear you.
He pressed a feather light kiss to your forehead before whispering back, "Anytime you need me, doll."
With his words of confirmation and reassurance, you easily found your way back into a heavy sleep.
