Originally Posted: 02/20/2022
Bucky wakes up in a cold sweat, gasping for air that just keeps escaping him. He looks to your side of the bed, feeling particularly empty that you're not there tonight. He knew that, of course. You'd been on an extended mission for just over 4 days. It wasn't a lot of time, but each night he found himself spiraling further and further into that depressingly familiar abyss.
He tried to think about your numerous reassurances. The numerous times you'd talked him down from this dark, at times unreachable state.
"You don't understand, there's so much blood on my hands. Eventually you're going to see, and you'll leave. Because deep down I'm a monster."
You fake a gasp, reaching out to grab Bucky's hand. You harshly turn his hand over, animatedly examining each side of it. '"I don't see any blood. Definitely not a monster's hand. Just a hand. A human hand. One that's held mine many times."
He harshly sighs, but doesn't pull away his hand. "I'm being serious."
"Me too!" you exclaim, tracing the lines on his palm. "No blood, just a hand."
"One day you're going to realize that you could do so much better than me."
"And one day you're going to realize that you're stuck with me because I love you. Always."
"Always is a long time."
You gently press a kiss to the center of his palm. "Promises, promises."
But tonight, you weren't there to reel him back in. Even though he knew it was borderline co-dependency, even though he'd never admit to anyone else that he needed you on nights like tonight, he did. He so badly did.
Nights were the darkness seemed just a little darker. Nights when his traitorous brain convinced him that you were going to leave him. That it was imminent.
Any day now, you'd grow tired of his innumerable issues. You were bound to get sick of it. Waking up to him sweating and shaking because he remembered something or because he had a nightmare. Holding him as he was spiraling. Constantly talking him off that ledge. Wiping away his tears and soothing away the hurt. His problems taking a toll on you, it had to be taxing.
He's pacing through your shared apartment at the compound when his phone rings. He jolts at the unexpected call. It's almost 3 in the morning, and you're calling him. His brain sends him into a tailspin of dread about what's awaiting him on the other end of the call. With one final breath, he flips open his phone.
"Doll?" he roughly exhaled. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine- I was actually going to ask you the same thing," you admit.
"What? I'm fine, I'm here in our room," he says, his voice raspy from exhaustion and his mental breakdown.
"But you're not asleep? It's late over there."
He remains silent, not wanting to burden you with his endless load of issues while you were on issue.
"Hi, Bucky!" he heard in the background.
"Sam says hi," you chuckled. "That he misses you a lot."
"I didn't say that," Bucky heard Sam call.
"James says he misses you too," you reply.
"I didn't say that," Bucky rasps.
"Hold on, let me find a spot where I can talk," you murmur, walking toward the back of the jet away from Sam and Steve.
"You don't have to do that, I'm fine," he insists.
"It's alright," you assure him, plugging some old headphones into your phone to be able to hear Bucky over the sound of the rumbling engine. "I've been wanting to hear your voice."
A smile tugs on Bucky's lips. "Where are you?"
"On the jet. We're heading back."
"You finished quick," he states. "Is that why you called?"
"No, actually. Call it an instinct. A sixth sense maybe?"
"What's the sixth sense for?"
"That my person needed me."
He exhales, the knot in his stomach already loosening. He loved when you called him your person. Two sides of the same coin, Sam once said and as much as he hated to admit it, Sam was exactly right. Being your person, you telling him that he was your person- it meant something to him. On nights like tonight, it allowed him to believe that even if you no longer loved him, you were as irrevocably tethered to him as he was to you. "I didn't want to bother you. I should be checking up on you, not the other way around."
"Says who? Besides, I've got Sam and Steve watching out for me. Now tell me what's wrong," you gently, but sternly demand.
He wipes away the silent tears from his cheeks, his head relentlessly reminding him what will inevitably happen.
"James?" you coo, after hearing only silence.
"I'm here," he chokes out, and you can hear the strain in his gravelly voice. How he's choking back the tears and muffling the sobs building in the back of his throat.
"I love you," you remind him.
"I love you too."
"Can you tell me what's wrong?"
"I couldn't sleep," he mumbles.
"And?"
"Don't you get sick of taking care of me, constantly listening to me unload on you?" Bucky asks in exasperation. "It's not right."
"I like that you trust me," you counter. "I like hearing your story, even the not-so-great parts."
"You're going to get sick of this. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually..."
"I love you," you repeat, knowing that he desperately needed the reminder. "Always."
"I don't know why."
"But I do. And I'm always here if you need a reminder. Okay, before I start, go make yourself some of that tea. It'll help you get to sleep. And quit pacing, it just works you up more," you instruct, Bucky immediately halting his steps.
"Okay," he sighs, walking to your little kitchenette to make himself that herbal tea that you found for him.
"Now, where do I start?"
"You don't have to-"
"Shh," you hush. "I'm thinking...Well, first, you make me feel like a person, you don't want anything from me except me. And it doesn't hurt that you're easy on the eyes."
"Easy on the eyes?" he chuckles, holding the phone to his ear while fixing up his tea.
"Oh, definitely! You would have had me the day we met if you'd smiled at least once."
"I miss you so much," he sighs, taking a small sip of his tea.
"Me too."
"You're too good to me."
"I wouldn't have left if I'd known you were having a hard time."
"I don't know why I'm having such a hard time, it's usually not this hard to be apart."
"I wish I was there. I'd take that bomb in your head and disarm it. Tell you how much you mean to me. How lucky I am that you're in my life. That if you don't believe anything else I say, believe that I won't go away."
"You won't?" he asks, his voice cracking again.
"Never," you promise. "Are you drinking your tea?"
"Just finished."
"The whole thing?" you knowingly probe.
He chuckles at how well you know him, that he never voluntarily finishes the slightly bitter tea. He gulps down the rest of the hot beverage, slightly burning his tongue in the process. "Yeah."
"Good. Now go lie down, I'll talk with you until you fall asleep. Hopefully I'll be there before you wake up."
"Alright," he grunts, padding over to your bedroom.
"Great, now would you like a really incorrect retelling of The Hobbit, which I'm still trying to finish, or would you like to hear about the mission in excruciatingly boring detail?" you ask once you hear the faint noises of Bucky settling into your bed.
"Thrilling choices," Bucky sarcastically huffs.
"Well I'm not trying to entertain you, I'm trying to put you to sleep."
"Or you can just talk to me until you get here? Besides, I like hearing you talk, you can't bore me to sleep."
"Nice try, but you need to sleep. So take your pick- and when I mean excruciating detail, I mean excruciating detail."
"Mm...tell me about the mission."
"Okay," you chuckle, the sound already soothing Bucky's aching soul. "Well, first we got onto the jet. Steve insisted on piloting again. Meanwhile, Sam and I got into the back. Sam strapped himself in, with a parachute right next to him, 'just in case'. I don't know why he'd need it considering his whole thing is being the Falcon-"
And soon enough, after enough excruciatingly boring detail, Bucky did fall fast asleep. You only hung up after being completely sure that there wasn't any risk of Bucky waking up again. And thankfully, after your mission you returned to your room to find Bucky peacefully sleeping, not an ounce of duress or fear etched onto his face. You crawl under the covers, careful to not jostle Bucky awake.
Except for a brief stutter in his otherwise even breathing, there's no sign that Bucky wakes as you curl up next to him. He doesn't say anything, just drapes his arm over you, pulling you closer to him as he sighs in contentment, "Missed you."