a/n:
Since it's Bucky's birthday today (March 10th), here's a little something to celebrate. Happy 99th birthday, Bucky!
--•--•--•--•--
Drenched in sweat and panting, Bucky delivered punch after punch to a dummy in the Avengers Tower training room. He'd been at it since early morning, last night having been a bad one. They'd just returned from a week-long mission yesterday, and though he was exhausted, when Bucky tried to sleep, sharp, detailed nightmares plagued his mind. After vivid images of his experience at HYDRA drove out any part of him that wanted to rest and replaced it with burning hatred for those who had tortured him and turned him into a monster, he took to training to let off some steam.
The dummy was beginning to look deformed despite the resilient exterior and Bucky's lungs burned. He knew he needed to stop, but he couldn't. To stop was to surrender.
The knuckles on his flesh hand bled and bruised, his legs weak from how many kicks he'd delivered. Tears began running down his face, mixing with the sheen of sweat. With a cry of rage, he gave one final kick to the dummy, causing the metal frame to bend backwards. That was something not even Steve had managed to do.
He collapsed on the mat, heavy breaths interrupted by sobs.
"I'm sorry," he choked quietly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
He repeated the words over and over, each time for something different.
"I'm sorry," I wasn't strong enough.
"I'm sorry," I let them break me.
"I'm sorry," for everything the Soldier did.
He sat there on his knees, body shaking and tears flowing freely, for what felt like hours. Judging by the way his knees ached when he could finally breathe right, it had to have been at least one.
"Sergeant Barnes, it appears Captain Rogers is awake. Shall I inform him you are in distress?" JARVIS asked quietly from above. After multiple events where Steve had found Bucky broken and upset, the AI had taken it upon himself to ask if Bucky needs help.
"No," Bucky replied, lifting his head and sniffling. "No, don't tell him about this."
Even JARVIS sounded reluctant when he replied, "As you wish, Sergeant Barnes."
Bucky ran his flesh hand over his face, finding it to be a bad idea as soon as he moved his fingers. He grunted in pain and pulled it back, examining them. They were swollen and bruised, blood soaking the tape around them. He knew they were broken, but also knew that with the super soldier serum running through his veins it wouldn't take long to heal. After all, he'd had worse happen to him the past week. He gently cradled it palm up in his other hand, the cold metal taking some of the throbbing pain away.
He carefully stood, knees cracking and muscles burning. He knew he'd be sore for a while, but also knew it wouldn't last for long. He grabbed a towel from the rack that was always stocked with them and wiped off his face, grabbing a water bottle from the cooler with his metal hand.
He decided to head back up to his shared floor with Steve to keep the blond from worrying too much.
As soon as he stepped out of the elevator, he could smell breakfast. Steve was in the kitchen still in his bed clothes, humming contently as he cooked. Bucky made sure his injured hand was covered with the towel before making his presence known.
"Hey, Stevie." He said, careful not to show any signs he'd been crying. He hoped that Steve would pass up his red and puffy eyes for sleep deprivation.
"Heya, Buck." Steve replied, glancing over his shoulder. He seemed oddly chipper for this early. It was true Captain America was already a morning person, but he was never this much of a morning person. "Couldn't sleep?"
"Not really." Bucky answered. The unspoken I've been in the training room all night was understood.
"Well why don't you go get cleaned up and we can take a day off? I don't think Fury has anything for us." The blond suggested.
"That sounds good."
It was always known whether or not Bucky had a rough night. If he was left silent, it was the worst. That, in his dreams and memories, was hell. If his responses came in the form of grunts, it was bad but not horrific. At least not in respect to the others. If he spoke in only short, choppy sentences, well, that could be any day. The only time it was absolutely known Bucky was having a really good day was if he was talkative, cracking jokes like he used to.
Bucky grabbed a change of clothes and headed to the bathroom for a shower.
He started with carefully removing the tape around his hand and examining it further in the better lighting. Earlier, under normal circumstances, he probably would've needed a few stitches for the splits in the flesh, but now all that was left were shallow cuts. The bruising had faded considerably and was now green instead of deep purple. It was still tender when he moved it, but for the most part it was better.
The warm water of the shower loosened the tightness in his muscles and also helped the joints in his hand. A few more tears were lost down the drain, but for the most part all it took were a few deep breaths to keep himself under control.
When he was done showering and dressing an hour later, he headed back out to meet Steve.
"Go sit on the couch and relax. I'm almost done." The blond said. It didn't look like he had a lot of ingredients out, which made Bucky wonder why it had taken over an hour to make breakfast. Usually it was only half of one.
Bucky shrugged and sat on the couch browsing the TV channels. He couldn't find anything familiar to watch and settled for some kid's movie called Ice Age. He leaned back on the couch with his feet propped on the coffee table, eyes drooping. When he was told to completely close them by Steve, he didn't argue.
Finally, after several trips back and forth, Steve told him to open his eyes. Set up around his feet on the table were glasses of orange juice, milk, and a giant mug of coffee. A huge bowl of brightly-colored fruit sat in front of his feet, accompanied with plates containing stacks of pancakes and French toast, a bowl and milk with his favorite cereal sitting by it, varied doughnuts in another large bowl, toast beside it, different types of bagels, and in Steve's hands, a huge stack of waffles with whipped cream and a cherry on top encircled with blueberries.
For a moment, Bucky was confused as to why Steve had made something like this, until it hit him.
"Happy birthday, Buck." Steve said with a warm grin.
He'd forgotten his own birthday.
"Steve, I-" Bucky started, unsure what to say. "Thank you."
"Sorry, 99 candles wouldn't fit."
"Geez, and my ma didn't want us reminding her when she was 40." He said, taking the waffles from
Steve's hands. "This is perfect, Stevie."
Steve looked somewhat smug with the response, seemingly proud of himself.
"I didn't get you anything, I didn't know what exactly you'd be interested in from this century, but-"
"Stevie, this is perfect." Bucky reassured, putting the plate where his feet had previously been and standing to pull his best friend into a tight hug. "Thank you."
Steve gave a breathy laugh.
"Well, I guess you always did love waffles." He said, returning the hug.
"Not just for the food, for everything." Bucky said, a few tears managing to fall from his eyes. He pulled back and quickly wiped them away. "Now go get a fork, punk, I can't eat all this on my own."
"I'm not so sure about that, jerk." Steve replied playfully, heading back to the kitchen to grab a fork. He plopped down beside Bucky and both enjoyed the super soldier breakfast, along with the overdue rest from missions.
"Oh, and by the way, Tony was gonna plan a surprise birthday party. I told him it was a bad idea because, well, you know, but I don't know if he still did it." Steve said a while later.
"Geez, way to ruin the fun, Stevie." Bucky joked, nudging him in the ribs. "Nah, if he does it I'll just punch him in the face. Probably did something to deserve it anyway."
"You're probably not wrong." Steve agreed, settling back into the couch. Bucky followed suit after finishing the last blueberry on the waffles, leaning his head on Steve's shoulder with a sigh and enjoying the feeling of being really full for the first time in a long time.
"Happy birthday, jerk." Steve repeated.
"Thank you, punk." Bucky replied.