hey been a while lol
i wrote this with terminology that i am most comfortable with, so i apologize for any dysphoria inducing words.
i did replace the word clit with dick, so in case there is any confusion, the reader is pre-bottom surgery, post top surgery.
It was no secret that you got nightmares. Nearly every night, at least one Avenger would be woken by your muffled screams through the walls as you were jolted awake by a terrifying memory resurfacing through your subconscious. No one ever faulted you for it. They understood. Being an Avenger, the team sees some pretty gruesome things. They all get nightmares sometimes. When Bucky joined the team, it was almost relieving not to be the only one tormented with a constant barrage of horrible images. It was actually surprising how much you two had in common. Both coming from Hydra, trained as assassins, tortured, severe mental trauma, etc etc.
That being said, you and Bucky weren't exactly close pals. You've shared a beer once or twice before, and you had to admit you were quite attracted to the man, but he always seemed closed off. Not that you didn't notice the lingering stares he would give you, but you chose not to put much thought into those. He stared a lot, at most people. The only time you'd seen him smile was when he was joking around with Steve. Granted, it was also a little bit your fault, being almost equally as closed off as him. So you were shocked to see him standing by your door one night after you had once again woken up in a sweaty panic.
"I had one, too," he said. You blinked, forcing your heaving breath to slow.
"A nightmare?" You noticed he also looked slightly pale, his eyes darting around the room and his posture made himself small.
He nodded. "My... therapist says that I should share my experiences with someone who has gone through something similar. And... well... you get nightmares too, so we could share the experience... if that makes sense."
"I think they meant sharing as in talking, not... sharing as in doing it together," you laugh.
"I'm giving it my own interpretation," he responds, also amusedly.
The room went silent as he stared at the ground, embarrassed.
It took you a second to realize what was happening.
"So you... wanna sleep together?"
He chuckled at the innuendo (your first time making him laugh, you realize). "Well, when you put it that way..."
You breathed out a laugh as well. You lean over the bed to pick up the shirt dumped on the floor and put it on to cover your chest scars and scoot over to make room for him.
You weren't uncomfortable with your scars. You just weren't comfortable with coming out to Bucky just yet. Sure, Steve was cool with it when he found out, but Bucky isn't Steve. It's hard to gauge how 100-year-old men will react to trans folk.
Bucky was glad that the room was dark so you couldn't see the embarrassed red dusting his cheeks. He shuffled into the bed, laying on his back and taking as little blanket as possible. Your bed wasn't exactly large, but he sure was trying to put as much space between you two as possible. The energy was awkward, so you turn on your side, back towards him, and listen to the sound of his breathing as you drift off. Amazingly, no nightmares come to torment you or Bucky for the remainder of the night.
You and Bucky never mention this event to each other, though several days later you find yourself in bed with him again. This time, it was you popping into his doorway. The dream that night had been especially horrific, and you trembled as your hand settled on the door handle, though it was not only from the dream. Before you could turn it all the way, the door opened, and there stood Bucky in dark sweats and nothing more. You hoped that Bucky blamed the red on your cheeks from being startled at the door, and not the way his muscles rippled with every movement, the scars around his left shoulder contorting with the movement of his metal arm.
