Chapter 22: Valeriy Ayers - Kitchen Sink (Part V)

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'Shit. Damn it. Fuck. Damn. Shit.'

Back and forth. Back and forth. Shuffle to the side. Shuffle to the side. And getting fucking nowhere.

'I can't park this bloody damn thing!!!'

Back and forth. Back and forth. Shuffle to the side. Shuffle to the side. Still getting fucking nowhere.

The time I made up on the road could very well be eaten up by my attempt to park this fucking bus of a motorhome.

'Ah fuck it!!'

I threw the damn thing into park and took a quick walk around R.V. to calm down the irritation. Everybody's asleep. Nothing out of place.

'At least the Edmonton boys didn't tail us.'

They didn't call anyone to watch this park either. From some poking around, they never had anyone in this park. Most of the men in Canada were situated further than where our road trip ends.

'At this rate, should be there by evening...? I should ask Bucky about seeing the totem poles.'

There was audio coming from the back, so I doubt Bucky was asleep. With heavy footsteps and a soft knock, I opened the bedroom door.

"Bucky...? The hell happened?"

The young man was seated in the tiny pillow fort with eyes practically glazed over. His body rocked back and forth, hands covering his ears. He hadn't even reacted to the door opening or to me.

'...Princess Bride...? Oh shit!'

I shut the laptop with a snap.

At the sound, his forearm slammed against my throat. My back pinned against the cabinets. A knob jabbed into my back. His eyes filled with determination.

'Fun. He's going to fight his way through me if he has to....'

"Nothing's going to happen to you, Bucky," I stated calmly, though my voice faltered with the pressure against my throat. "All's good."

Recognition bloomed in those blue eyes and he shuffled away with a thud to the night table.

"All's good. Just breathe with me, Bucky. Come on. Breathe."

"I-I... I'm sorry – I didn't- didn't mean to – P-p-please don't put me in the chair. Please. I-I'll do anything. I'll be good. I promise. Plea-please. Please don't put me in the chair. Anything but the chair. Please. I w-won't – I-I won't disappoint you."

"Shhhh, Bucky. No chairs," I assured, feeling like my arm was about to crack under his desperate grip. "No chairs."

Whatever that meant.

The panic drained right out of him, leaving him in a semi sobbing mess. Thank yous slipped out between choked gasps.

I pulled him into a hug in the tight space, running my fingers through his hair. "No chairs. No torture. Nothing's going to happen to you, Bucky. You're safe. With me," I repeated over and over again.

As the seconds ticked by, his breathing evened out, his words falling silent. His head didn't move from the crook of my neck. His hands didn't let go of my shirt, still clinging to it as if this reality would slip through his fingers.

"Did I hurt you?"

"All's good, Bucky.... And I'm sorry. I got careless. Should have looked at what you bought. I'm sorry, Bucky."

His head leaned back, shaking a soft no. "Stop blaming yourself, Valeriy.... You can't be comfortable like this."

'Yup. My leg is cramping up and my abs are burning.' So I moved to back away from half holding myself up over him.

But as much as he said those words, Bucky was still reluctant to let go of my shirt, and I couldn't really move.

"Going to just sit on the bed," I suggested lightly, watching his face for any disagreement. "Like yesterday, 'kay?"

Instead of climbing onto the bed myself, just like yesterday, Bucky placed me on the edge and tucked his shoulders under my knees. And just like yesterday, he hung onto my good ankle as I dragged my nails along his scalp.

No words were exchanged.

Eventually he'd figured out that nothing was going to happen to him.

No pain.

No torture.

No chairs.

Right?

That it'd only be soft things.

Down Pillows.

Fluffy blankets.

My hand that wasn't encased by metal.

Only soft things for Bucky.

But he wouldn't settle down. His muscles stayed tensed. His grip kept changing pressure, bordering on pain when it seemed he was struggling with where he was.

'I don't know what more I can do....'

What made me feel safe when I was trapped in my head?

I escaped.

I escaped reality.

Binge watching movies at this moment probably wasn't a wise choice.

I doubt stuffing him into the closet would do him any help.

Cold water was an overall bad idea.

'What do I do...? What can I even do...?'

I curled around him, arms wrapping him up in a hug and head resting against his. Hide him away in a curtain of long hair and fluffy blankets.

'I should get more blankets.'

His head lightly rested against my thigh, half hugging my right leg. His posture relaxed from what felt like both bracing for pain and on the cusp of lashing out.

With a soft sigh, Bucky half sunk into the pile of pillows between him and the bed frame. "Where are we going next? I'll start driving."

I pulled him back from his attempt at standing up. "Was actually on my way to asking if you'd mind us checking out some totem poles that are in this park. Sun up is about... two hours away?"

"Okay."

With that, Bucky's head dropped against my thigh, hand holding onto my ankle again. I continued on with running one hand through his hair, the other cast covered one propping up my head. He didn't need his hair being tangled in the joint systems.

It took a little time, but his breathing changed. Once in a while, a soft almost snore sounded from him.

Testing, I tried to pull my leg back, but without waking, he tightened his grip. A shrug of the shoulders later, I laid back, staring up at the ceiling.

'Probably a dumb idea...?'

But I strained to reach a pillow I liked sleeping on to tuck under my head and another I liked to snuggle with. Not bothering to try and yank the duvet from under me, I just wrapped myself into a burrito to sleep. Still half off the bed.

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Author's Note:

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