Not Without You {Steve/Bucky Fic} COMPLETED

Chapter Two

That seemed like an eternity ago.
In a way, Bucky supposed, it was. Both him and Steve should rightfully be dead. However, instead of decaying in a coffin, Bucky was staring up at the grey painted ceiling. Comfortable. Warm. Well-fed. In a house with Steven Grant Rogers.

He felt that he shouldn't have been.

After saving Steve from the river, Bucky took off for God knows where. He lived alone with no money, trying to find an identity.

He was cold. He was hungry. He was alone.

And that's how he felt it should be.

Yes, he thought maybe he should go back to the man he saved for no apparent reason. Then he recoiled. Bucky had killed people without any control over it.

Why would the man want to help someone who did such things?

Yet he did. Steve found him in Romania, and in a way, Bucky was glad he did. Yet he wasn't.

What did he ever do to deserve a friend like Steve?

The blonde took care of his every need, gave him a roof over his head, and doesn't get frustrated when Bucky has a nightmare in which blood pours out of a body and he wakes up screaming.

Steve was too good to him.

Bucky had wanted to go back under after the issues with Tony. He didn't want to hurt anyone. Not again.

And he did stay frozen in that tube- for about two months.

Then Steve came to visit him on one of the rare occasions that he was thawed.

Bucky then broke down.

He wanted to be with Steve.

He wanted the other man's help recovering his memories and getting control over himself.

Bucky meekly asked the Captain if he could stay with him.

Steve had never smiled so big.

"Absolutely, Buck. If that's what you want to do, I'll fully support it. "

He threw a strong arm around the brunette's shoulders. " We'll work through all of this together. "

That's enough wallowing in your sorrow for today, Buck. The man told himself as he propped himself up on his one arm. Steve had given him the guest bedroom, which had grey walls, blue painted trim and a matching bed spread.

Bucky liked the room quite well. The blue incorporated with the decor reminded him of Steve's eyes, which he liked very much. He wasn't quite sure why.

Lifting himself from the warm bed, he got up and went out into the kitchen, where Steve stood in a white tank top and black running shorts, sweating a little from his early morning jog with Sam Wilson.

"Morning, Buck! " the blonde chirped as he put a pan of eggs on the stove.

"Morning, " Bucky replied, sitting down on a wooden chair at the table.

"How did you sleep? " Steve asked, stirring the eggs.

An innocent question, but it made Bucky almost immediately tear up.

He gripped the bottom of the chair with his hand- a subtle, unseen way of holding himself together- and smiled at his friend.

"I slept well. "

A lie. He didn't like to lie to Steve, but he couldn't bear to wake Steve one more night. A super solider or not, the man needed his sleep. Bucky hated to look at the dark circles that ringed his eyes each morning, and the worried expression on his face each morning, concerned if Bucky would snap due to his regular nightmares.

"That's great! " Steve practically beamed.

Bucky had slept horribly. He saw himself holding a gun to a man's forehead, his wife and child tied up in a corner of the room, eyes wide as they watched the Winter Soldier shoot their loved one without even blinking.

Bucky woke up shaking, but had somehow subconsciously learned to keep his hand clenched tight over his mouth as he slept, so his screams would be muffled and not wake Steve.

"And how did you sleep? " Bucky asked in return.

Steve smiled softly. "I slept good as well. " he said, but his voice was quiet. Too quiet.

Pointing his blue eyes to the tiled kitchen floor, Steve said softly, "I was worried about you, though. When you don't wake me up, I start to worry that, um, maybe you left. " He stirred the eggs halfheartedly.

Bucky stood up and walked over to Steve. Laying his hand on his shoulder he said, "I know you probably worry about me, but you really shouldn't. I've been doing good being here with you, Steve. And I'm not leaving. Til the end of the line, remember? " Bucky gave a little half smile.

Steve sighed as he looked in Bucky's eyes. "'M sorry, Buck. I'll try not to worry. " Then he whispered, " I'm with you til the end of the line."

Bucky smiled as he swallowed back a sob. The way he felt for his friend was unacceptable. He wanted to wrap his arm around his friend's waist and sob into his shoulder and tell him how sorry he was for nearly killing him.

How sorry he was for waking him with his shrieks at night, for causing him to worry.

Tell him how he wished that Steve would lie by him, all night long, so if he had a nightmare he could turn over and Steve would be there, sleeping softly.

Bucky knew he wouldn't feel so awful about what he'd done if Steve was always there with him.

And in a way, he was, and Bucky appreciated that.

But he couldn't be there in the way Bucky wanted him to be.