Peter & Bucky Are Pals

Chapter 19

Peter stood outside Bucky’s room in the medbay, trying to will himself to push the door open. He wanted more than anything to see Bucky, sit with him until he woke again, but his twisted conscience held him back. He didn’t deserve- no, he reprimanded himself. Natasha said it wasn’t his fault. Clint said it wasn’t his fault. He trusted them… but what if they were just saying that? What if they blamed him, what if everyone blamed him, what if they just pretended to like him because- no! No no no. He wanted to see Bucky; he put his hand on the door, and then he remembered Steve.

Steve was in there. Steve was Bucky’s other half, and Bucky had almost died, and Steve must blame him. He turned away, rubbing a hand across his face. Steve hadn’t shown it, but maybe he was a good actor. Maybe he-
“Is everything okay?” a gentle voice asked, and Peter spun around to find one of the nurses, the young man. Peter faked his best smile, an expression he hadn’t made in upwards of two weeks.
“I’m fine.”

The man arched an eyebrow, and Peter dropped his facade.
“I just… what if everyone hates me?” His voice was unbearably small.
“Nobody hates you,” the nurse said soothingly. “Especially neither of those men in there. I’m sure it would make Captain Rogers happy to see you.”
Peter stepped back up to the door and the nurse opened it, giving him a little nudge inside. Steve’s head snapped up, and Peter thought he saw relief on Steve’s face before he made himself look away. Holding eye contact was too daunting.

“Has he woken up again?” he asked, barely audible.
“Once. He asked for you,” Steve replied. “Are you alright? You ran out of here pretty quick.”
Peter twisted his foot on the tile floor, shamefaced. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”

Peter didn’t answer for long enough that Steve resettled himself in the chair, motioning for Peter to join him. When Peter didn’t, he looked up again; Peter could feel his sharp blue eyes from across the room.
“Do you hate me?” Peter finally mustered the courage to ask.
“No! God, no. What makes you think that? Have I done something?”
Peter shook his head hurriedly. “Just… I’m the reason that he’s…” He gestured to Bucky. Steve’s face softened.
“It’s not your fault.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t blame me.”
“I don’t blame you,” Steve insisted. “There’s no point in blaming you. You’re not responsible.”
Peter bit his lip.

“You’re not,” Steve said. “I promise.”
His strong voice must’ve been enough to wake Bucky, because Bucky tilted his head towards Steve, his eyes fluttering open. “S’tevie?”
“I’m right here,” Steve said, leaning forward. “Right here, Buck.”
“I can’t feel my legs, Stevie,” Bucky murmured. “Are they gone, too?”
Steve shook his head, his breath audibly catching in his chest. Bucky tried to lift his hand.

“S’alright, Stevie. Don’ worry.”
Steve inhaled deeply, giving Bucky a tight smile. Bucky blinked, and something fearful crossed his face.
“Peter. Where’s Peter? You said…”
“He’s okay,” Steve replied. “He’s right here.”
Steve’s hand wrapped around Peter’s wrist and tugged him to the side of the bed; the lines of worry on Bucky’s face dissipated at the sight of him.
“You’re alright,” Bucky murmured, relieved. Peter nodded, unable to speak for fear of emotion bubbling out. It must’ve shown on his face, because Bucky tried to pat the blankets, motioning for Peter to sit. Peter obeyed, perching himself on the edge of the bed. Bucky studied him, frowning slightly.
“You haven’t been taking care of yourself. Just as bad as Stevie.”
Peter ducked his head guiltily and tried to swallow the lump in the back of his throat.