Warnings - icky men, mentions of rape?
(Not really. I'm not sure. It's more of a question)
It is loud. People are bumping into you, and you can't find your dad anywhere. Or any of your family. Or friends. Or anyone you know. You are sure someone tried to spike your drink, ordering a new one from the bar, where your Aunt was working. But she isn't there anymore.
The music seems to be getting louder as you push through the crowds to rush upstairs to the balcony, feeling many hands wrap around your wrist as you push through the many drunk people. Your dad was nowhere to be seen, your uncle had left just a few hours ago, and now, you are alone in a place you wish you hadn't agreed to coming to.
Stark was hosting a birthday party for someone you haven't met, your father asking you if you would join him since a lot more of his founded family would be there, people you see as your Aunt, Uncles, and best friends. Wanda, Peter, and Shuri were supposed to have been here, but Peter had homework, and Wanda left, Shuri not having shown up at all with her brother for science work back in her home country.
You were stuck with your father, which hadn't been so bad.
If you could find him.
Walking into the party and hour late, you were already trying to find people, your grip on his hand tight the further the two of you moved throughout the venue of the compound party center. Blurs of drunks were moving by, and you already felt claustrophobic with how snug you were against him, his warmth and safety the only thing helping you out as you moved about the room full of unknowns.
When you had finally found everyone, you were sitting next to him, your dress already fraying around the edges from your nails. Big events like this caused anxiety to creep through you you had certainly gotten from your dad. And you weren't surprised to know he had felt uncomfortable as well when walking right through the dance floor, women grinding on him, as hands tried to reach out for you.
Situations like this only caused panic to coarse through you because of how small you felt walking through crowds that only tried to shove you against walls, or pin you to the floor. With your mother now gone, you felt much more vulnerable without your father, the man with the metal arm who would go to the extreme just to protect the people he loved.
And for you, he would travel the world.
You feel the tears prick your eyes when you are pulled away from the stairs, the drops falling into your cheek when you realize that whoever was grabbing you, was not some friend, but stranger.
He was drunk, that was for sure. His breath was rich in vodka, and his grip was nothing nice, fingers edging between the bones on the bottom side of your arm, causing a stifled groan to slide past your lips when he squeezes just enough to bruise.
"Where you going pretty lady?" He is slurring, not making anything better as you slap his arm harshly, watching as he glares back at you. You gave him no chance to speak again after seeing his smile fall, racing up the stairs with a sob bubbling down your throat as you look for anyone you knew.
Your dress is flowing around you with every quick step, and you almost collapse at the sight of your father laughing with your uncle's, running right into his chest. His arms are around you, the cup missing you had seen he was holding, and the conversation is over just like that, his eyes looking around for any threat before pulling you back into the corner he had been hiding in.
"Y/N, what happened?" Bucky back away as little as he can just to see your face, and his heart shatters. Half hour make up is now running down your cheeks as the other half is caked under your eyes, his thumb ridding of the tears as Sam, Steve, and Thor form a small circle around the two of you. "Honey, what's going on?"
"I couldn't-someone-people-" Looking back, you try and explain, but nothing but a mix of what you want to say comes out, choking you as the air becomes trapped in your throat. You keep your eyes on the direction you came before his hand is bringing you back, worry only making you more panicked.
"One breath at a time, Doll," he instructs softly, his eyes looking up towards the group in thanks as he kneels in front of you. "Did someone touch you, Y/N?" His question is more angered than the gentle tone he had just been talking in, but his hands speak a different story as he looks over your body, eyes slowly coming back to your face when you shake and nod your head at the same time. "Steve, find Stark."
"Got it."
"Too many-Couldn't find you-he grabbed me." Bucky can only watch as you sink down the rabbit hole of panic, your eyes red and fully allowing the tears to escape as you shake in his hands. Steve was already gone, and Sam is holding a glass of water, offering it as he gets you to finally meet his gaze. "So many people, dad."
He nods when you get the full sentence out, grabbing the glass from Sam while pushing your hair back. Sweat is forming along your hairline, something he knows so well from the nerves that eat him up from the edges in.
"Are you hurt, Y/N? Did someone hurt you?" He looks over your shoulder once he sees Stark rushing towards the small circle that had formed, a few of the security details right behind him. He cups your face once again when your eyes drift back to the stairs, your breaths heavy and tears full. "Sweetheart, tell me what happened."
"He pulled me back, but I was only looking for you-I couldn't find you, dad, I couldn't find anyone." Rambling, Bucky is able to catch onto what you're saying, used to the quick panic attacks he is able to catch. You keep things to yourself. "He was drunk, and-I just wanted to find you, Dad."
"I'm right here," he whispers calmly, nodding when you finally take a large breath in. "Who was drunk? Scott, Bruce-"
"I don't-I don't know. I think he broke my wrist-I didn't know him." You gesture down to your painfully bruised hand while continuing to talk, Tony now trying to figure out what was happening while listening. Bucky looks down to see your swollen hand, his hand gentle when lifting your arm to expect it more.
"Fri, give me a scan," Tony instructs, holding his hand up to let his watch scan your wrist as your father looks up at the other two men behind you. "The bones are wedged apart, we'll need to cast it before anymore damage can be done and they snap apart."
"Sam, find some of the staff, see if they're sober enough to work, if not, I'll be in med." Bucky looks back at you before standing fully, his hands resting on your shoulder and head, fingers moving throughout your hair in a more calming manner. "Do you think you can point out who it was if we went down there? I need to know who did-" He stops short when you shake your head, grabbing his hand and squeezing. Anyone would cringe if they weren't used to it, his eyes slowly building with his own tears when he sees how desperate you are.
The same look Natasha had given him. The woman who had risked her life for his so he would have a better life with his daughter. And looking at you now, he can't help but see that same look of desperation and need for him how she had given him the last few second he had seen her as you breakdown again, shaking in fear and most likely anxiety right in his grasp.
"We're going to med," he announces with no other words, slipping his arm over your shoulders to hold you tightly as he walks to the elevator. He leaves the group with no other order with no guilt hanging on his chest, only anger and pain at the sight of you so broken under his watch.
He promised her. Promised he would look after you to give her closure you were safe. That she could do what she always wanted. Protect you. And now, he can't even keep some drunk off of you at a party he thought would be good for the both of you, his hand keeping your arm elevated as it continues to swell and you can't even think properly to tell him what the hell had happened. Or speak. Or stop shaking.
Bucky had one job, and he feels as if he failed it with how scared you are just from losing him in a crowd. A crowd so big, he can't hear his own thoughts. You can't see two feet in front of you. And you feel so alone in a room so full of people.
He can't help but hug you closer. Kiss your head with assuring things leaving his lips. Slip his blazer over your shoulders when he sees you're shaking while standing in the elevator, holding your hand to give comforting squeezes as you finally breathe in the fifteen minutes he has seen you. It was as if you had been underwater for far too long and finally let up for air.
Silence is the first thing you hear when the door desperate to let you up many, many floors above where the party is being held. Some of the staff is sitting about the couches, Sam standing with the doctors and nurses. Though, they hault when they visibly see you flinch, Bucky standing in front of you with his arms out, forming a shield around you with a warning expression.
"Just-just give us a few minutes," he pleads softly, earning a few nods and softer responses. He spins back around to you, smiling just a little when you meet his eyes for over the tenth time in the past few minutes. "Are you okay with them touching you? He-he didn't-"
"No," you spit out quickly, swallowing the thick pile of anxiety to even speak. "He didn't." It felt more relieving to tell him something assuring than everything else that has come out of your mouth, nodding his way to not speak again.
He closes his eyes for a moment with a deep sigh, his shoulders falling with his chest in instant relief. But they still tense when his eyes meet yours again, blue iris' filled with fear and worry as his hands glide down your arms, the metal of his left gentle when moving onto your wrist.
"Buck," Sam says softly, snapping him out of it as he turns around as quick as he had done the opposite way.
"Yeah, sorry." He clears his throat as the tears wash away, looking down while smoothing out his button up. "Come on, Y/N, let's get you checked out."
You are thankful for Peter's door being open, taking a pair of his sweatpants and t-shirt to get out of the dress as Bucky deals with the problem, sitting in the car while you wait for him to come back. You had pointed out the man who caused you to have a splitting break of your radius and ulna, cast kow keeping them together for you to go back in a few weeks to have it taken off.
Hearing the door open, you look over as your father slides into the seat, his head falling onto the steering wheel with a soft sigh. His hands run through his hair, and the first few buttons of his shirt are now undone, the tie around his neck loosened. As if he had just gotten with a woman.
Thinking of that makes you turn back to the window, more tears overflowing your eyes. You know he would never do that, but he has to eventually? You aren't enough to keep him company for so long, that he'll feel just as as alone as you. He'll meet someone. And she'll take over the spot your mother left behind.
"I'm sorry," you mumble, hoping he hadn't heard it with the regret now seeping deep in your bones. You shouldn't've said anything.
"For what?" He heard you.
"Nevermind." You shake your head and curl up in the seat, not even able to wrap your arms around your knees due to the large cast wrapped around your hand. "Can we just go home?"
"Wait, Y/N, what?" Bucky sits up in his seat as he looks over at you, sighing when you ignore him. "None of this was your fault, it was-"
"The man who attacked me? Or the people who killed mom that made me feel like this?" You release a breath full of nerves and anxiety that hadn't gone away as you sit up. "All this time, I thought I hadn't been able to feel scared or upset since she never came back, but then, I lost you. You had just gone upstairs, Dad, nowhere else. I-I panicked for nothing, made you feel like the world was ending because I thought you left me in a crowd full of strangers. What am I supposed to do when you really leave? Or if you find someone because I don't fulfill your needs of being the company you're supposed to have?"
You couldn't stop talking as much as you wanted to. The words were spilling out uncontrollably, and looking at Bucky's face as you said then made it burn. Your throat ached from crying, your chest hurt from the pain you're making him feel. And your heart ached for the loss you haven't grieved yet.
Bucky is much more surprised you spoke up than just let him talk, sighing as he turns in his seat to let you finish. The tears rushing down your cheeks are full, and he wants to wipe them away for you, but you do it yourself. In anger.
"Y/N," he begins with just a soft breath, his eyes closed before they land on you in the dark night of the car. It was new, something he had to change. "You are my world. Anything happens to you, and it's over for me. Second, you have all the right to feel this. This job isn't easy, and definitely isn't the safest one I can think of, which means lots of risks. Natasha knew that, and she took it anyways for you, and I wouldn't let it be for nothing if I let you be unsafe.
"You panicked because I wasn't there, and someone else that shouldn't have been was. And it wasn't for nothing. Third, I would never find someone else just because you aren't enough to bring me company. Finding someone isn't going through my mind right now, Doll, and really, I don't think I'll ever find someone as good as your mother had been to me. If I leave for good, you have all the family here to be with, to get you through it, but it's not gonna happen for awhile. I'm old, but not old enough to leave you so soon.
"It was crowded in there, and the guy shouldn't have fucking touched you, drunk or not. He got what was coming to him."
"Is he dead?" You ask, sniffling.
"You don't need to know that." Bucky inhales a shaky breath as he turns in his seat, his hands now gripping the steering wheel with little to no pressure while starting the car. "Did you eat anything while we were here?"
"I'm not hungry." Smiling his way, you leans over the center console to place a kiss to his cheek. "You're my world, too."
"Let's go home."
Word Count - 2706