Chapter Text
5 days earlier
Bucky hadn’t slept at all the night before. He hadn’t even attempted to go to bed, as amped up as he was, as antsy as he was.
He’d gone out with Rhodey after the meeting, they’d wasted as much time as possible in the nearest café, drinking the cheapest item on the menu until the other man had had to leave and Bucky had been left to trail home.
He was usually anxious to get home, anxious to get into the safety of his own space, but that day the idea of going back to an empty, lonely apartment furthered the anxiety.
For the rest of the night, he’d paced and worked out and ate a lot of what was in the fridge as he waited for Sam to call.
When he did, he’d held his breath and tried not to throw up, saying nothing, just waiting for those words. Waiting for Sam to tell him that Gabe was dead.
He wasn’t dead, somehow, miraculously, he said. He’d had surgery and transfusions and nearly died quite a few times. He was in recovery, on a psych hold, kept in the ICU until he woke up. With no family left to visit, Sam and Riley had somehow managed to weasel their way in and were staying for as long as they could.
Bucky thanked Sam for calling, asked that he let him know if anything happened, gave them his love and hung up so he could get back to Gabe.
It had been nearing ten pm when Bucky put the phone down and though he’d been given…semi-good news, he was far too wound up to try and sleep. Ever since he became friends with those from the group, he’d been waiting for that shoe to drop, waiting for the news that one of them had been too overwhelmed and had tried to take their life.
He’d dealt with that before, had seen members of his own battalion disappear into the desert or walk straight into enemy fire. Had seen the empty gazes and witnessed the breakdowns, had seen people take their weapons and use them on themselves.
But seeing it overseas and seeing it here, home, where they were supposed to be recovering, felt different.
It brought back all the feelings he’d fought so hard to reign in, to control. The crushing anxiety, the weight of all he’d seen and done, that overwhelmed feeling that threatened to drag him under, the flashbacks and memories and being pulled right back to the moments that scared him the most.
He spent the entire night like that, curled up on the sofa, staring at the TV but not really watching it. Remembering, panicking, spiraling, long into the morning. Bear had barely slept either and whilst Bucky felt guilty about his torrent of emotions keeping the dog up, he was also grateful that he wasn’t completely alone. He sat by Bucky, perched right in front of the sofa. When the man got particularly worked up or made any kind of noise, the dog would whine softly, pawing at Bucky’s arms as they covered his face, waiting until the arms were dropped so he could nose against wet cheeks. For the most part, Bear sat beside the sofa, sometimes curled up if the man went through a quiet patch. He never left the man’s side the whole night.
When it reached an appropriate time to call Steve, Bucky grabbed his phone. He could have called Peg at any time during the night but he needed his best friend, he needed the man who had seen every single high and low, he needed his brother.
Steve picked up on the first couple of rings, “Hey, Buck.”
“Stevie.” Bucky’s voice was hoarse, though he didn’t know why, had he been crying?
“What’s wrong?” Steve’s voice changed immediately, not casual anymore, worried.
“Gabe from the VA, he uh…he tried-“ He had no hope of getting those words out but he didn’t need to, just like Bucky had known before Sam had said anything, Steve knew before Bucky had.
“Shit, Buck. Where are you?” The man breathed in that measured way he did to calm himself.
“Home. I’m fine, I haven’t done anything, I just…I needed…” You, I just needed you.
“I’ll get dressed and come down.” And there was his Captain’s ‘no-nonsense’ voice.
“No, Stevie,” Bucky sighed, “I didn’t call to make you come to see me, I just needed someone to talk to.”
“I know you didn’t call me to come but I’m gonna anyway. Peg can take over for a couple of hours, her cousin’s coming round anyway and apparently she’s good at the phones and stuff.”
Suddenly remembering the blonde from the meeting, Bucky frowned. “What’s Peg’s cousins’ name?”
Steve sounded confused, “Sharon, why?”
Another trick of fate or was the world fucking with him? Sometimes he swore they were just stuck in a damn video game or some shit and whoever was playing the game loved continuously taking the piss outta him.
“No reason,” Bucky wasn’t about to come out with the fact he’d seen Sharon at group, just in case Peggy didn’t know. He wasn’t the kinda guy to out someone for going to therapy.
“Okay… look I’ll be there in about an hour. Shower, get dressed and we’ll go out for breakfast. Understood?” Steve asked, though he wasn’t actually asking, but telling.
“Yes Sir.” Bucky muttered, rubbing at his forehead, knowing better than to argue with Steve when he put his Captain’s hat on, something he’d done since they were kids.
“Good.” Steve hummed, sounding smug.
Groaning, Bucky hung up, resting his head in his hand for a moment. Steve was intolerable when he got worried about Bucky’s mental health. It wasn’t a bad thing, Bucky often felt alone and his best friend knew that, knew that sometimes he needed to shut the world out and sometimes he needed comfort and love and support to the point of being clingy. Apparently Steve had decided this was one of the latter times, and even though Bucky had said nothing to support that fact, the blond knew him probably better than he knew himself.
So despite the grumbling and the trepidation and the guilt at pulling Steve away from work, Bucky pulled himself together and headed to the shower. Sure, he could just skip it since he was really not in the fucking mood for the taking off his arm and washing his hair bullshit but he probably smelled kinda gross after his fun fun night and Steve would take one look at him and know he hadn’t showered. Then the Captain would stare at him, eyebrow raised, arms crossed, lips pursed and Bucky would scurry towards the shower without a single word needing to be said anyways.
Bucky had always been pretty awful at following orders, even in the army he’d made a habit out of pushing the boundaries, but when Steve was involved…damn that man could probably get him to start a war in his honor or some shit. ‘Till the end of the line and all that jazz.
To his credit, Bucky was getting better at ordering Steve around and succeeding in getting him to do the thing. The blond used to never listen to him, at all really. Always getting into fights, disobeying orders, breaking rules, even getting into trouble with the police. When people used to look at the pair; Bucky all tall and rugged with his long hair and leather jackets and lean muscle and then Steve, short and skinny, always out of breath and looking ready to keel over at any minute, in his smart shirts and suspenders, they always assumed Bucky was the rebel and the troublemaker. They couldn’t have been more wrong. Steve was the tearaway, even with his inhaler tucked into his pocket at all times and Bucky was the dad, always picking him up and dragging him away and getting into fights on Steve’s behalf because the blond did not know when to fucking stop punching and it would literally take one well aimed hit to floor him.
Now the tables had turned somewhat; Bucky was the rebel, though now in a different way. He was impulsive, reckless, sometimes unstable as all hell, self-destructive and volatile. Steve was the constant, supportive and never wavering in his comforting, there to pick up the pieces years after Bucky had done the same.
He wasn’t quite sure when the switch had happened. Maybe Peggy had helped, maybe the army had not helped. It didn’t really matter, he supposed, it just was.
Showering was always an ordeal but Bucky hoped in time, it would become routine, normal, he wouldn’t even think about needing to use one hand. Maybe he wouldn’t have to if Tony could come up with the arm he thought he could. Apparently the arm would be able to grip properly and completely, would be able to lift higher than his shoulder, wouldn’t be as uncomfortable and foreign. He didn’t dare to dream for something like that but he would never stop being grateful for Tony Stark.
He carefully set his arm down on the bed after he’d gathered up everything he needed for the shower. Setting everything down in the bathroom, he absently rubbed at his shoulder, huffing out a soft sigh. Tony had said he’d need breaks from the arm but he hadn’t been listening to the advice perhaps as much as he should have been and as such, he was suffering the painful consequences.
He just wasn’t quite okay with the injury yet, it hadn’t actually been that long since he’d woken up in the med tent, feverish and delirious and in so much pain he’d passed right back out. Rhodey had reassured him that it got easier to deal with, and even though he would always have moments of noticing his limits and struggling with the loss, he would know how to deal with it all in time. But at the moment, he didn’t like to take the arm off.
However whilst this version of the arm could take some rain, it could not handle a full on shower so he was left with no choice.
He had at least gotten used to showering with one hand so the whole thing didn’t take too long and soon enough he was stepping into his bedroom, rubbing a towel over his hair and debating how long it would take to dry if he used the hairdryer. Deciding that he couldn’t be bothered with that, he threw the wet towel onto the bed and got dressed in boxers and his usual jeans (with the popper button, not the normal button because…one hand). Debating over whether to put his arm straight back on, he stared into the mirror for a little while. The skin around his shoulder was red and raised and hurt to touch, probably, he realised, from the prosthetic rubbing against what remained of his arm. Sighing, he decided to slip the brace on instead since pain in that area was a big trigger and after the emotions of his night, that sort of trigger would not end well for anyone.
He pulled on one of his long sleeved shirts, this time a dark gray one, and carefully pinned the left sleeve above the brace.
Turning away from the mirror, he sat on the bottom of his bed as he pulled his socks onto his feet, wiggling them up his ankles. When he was fully dressed, deciding to just leave his hair as it was, he moved to the living room to clear up from his night. He’d already brushed his teeth in the shower because honestly it was easier and he didn’t have to clean the sink afterwards.
Somehow he’d gone through two family bags of chips, a big bag of pretzels, all the fruit he had left in the house, almost a gallon of milk and for some reason, half a jar of jalapeños?
Sighing, he placed a trash can on the table and dropped all the trash inside, brushing crumbs into one of the chip bags before throwing that away too. Dropping the can by the back door to deal with later, he straightened the cushions and draped the blanket back over the sofa. Next, he made sure the treadmill propped against the wall was turned off, and put all the weights back into the box and into the cupboard.
Admittedly, he did feel a little better when everything was back neat and tidy and though he needed to vacuum and do laundry, he’d at least gotten some done.
Unsure if he was going to allow Steve to drag him out to breakfast or not, he put on a pot of coffee and leaned against the counter as he waited for it to be ready. Sure, he now had no food left in the house and somehow he was hungry again, but he also didn’t want to put his arm back on and depending on where Steve wanted to go, there could be hundreds of potential triggers just waiting to pull down his already fragile mental walls.
Steve pushed him, sure, that’s what family did for one another, but he knew when to stop. If Bucky thought he would be triggered, the blond would definitely not make him leave the house. But then again, Bucky didn’t know there would be triggers, he would just be assuming, so should he bite the bullet and go anyway?
Groaning, Bucky buried his face in his palm. If his mind could stop shouting at him for one damn minute, he might be able to make a logical decision.
Though that was apparently too much to ask for. Fuck it, he’d just leave the choice up to Steve.
Flopping down on the sofa, Bucky turned the TV to another channel, the screen still on from his 3am browsing. Really not interested in watching something in particular, he turned onto a general morning show and picked up his phone. Just like the twenty minutes before, he had no messages from anyone. Rhodey had left a message to check in at about two in the morning, clearly he wasn’t sleeping much either, but other than that and the call from Sam, nothing.
He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for exactly, maybe to hear that Gabe was going to be okay? But he wasn’t really going to be okay at all, and Bucky knew that, so maybe he was just waiting for general news.
Either way, he had no messages.
Bear was still fussing around his feet and Bucky realised, guiltily, that it was about half an hour after his usual feeding time.
“Sorry, bud, here, let’s get your breakfast.” Bucky stood, Bear yipping excitedly as he bounded beside him to the kitchen. Pouring out the right amount of food, he carried it over to the dog’s mat. Before he could even reach to put it down, Bear plopped himself down on his ass, panting happily as he waited for Bucky to put the bowl down.
“Huh, maybe this trainin’ thing won’t be so hard, yeah?” Bucky shook his head and smiled, placing the bowl down. Bear nearly smashed into the wall behind the food, he was so excited.
Yeah, he finally got why people loved their dumb animals so much.
…
Bucky was back sitting at the sofa when Steve got there. Bucky had a key to the blond’s house but Steve did not have one for the other man’s. Anyone coming into his space, accidentally sneaking up on him or taking him by surprise could potentially end…not well for either man involved.
Once the multiple bolts were unlocked, Bucky swung the door open so Steve could come inside.
“I’m gonna hug ya now.” Steve murmured upon crossing the threshold. He held his arms out but didn’t move towards the other man, giving him time to outright reject the offer. But actually, that sounded pretty damn nice.
“Alright.” He shrugged, ears burning at how kinda pathetic he was being. But if he couldn’t be pathetic with his best friend, who could he be pathetic with?
Steve slid his arms around Bucky, tugging him close, one hand resting on his back. Bucky sighed softly into the blond’s hair, arm wrapping around Steve too. They stayed like that until Bucky began to cramp up and had to pull away.
Steve lifted a hand and ruffled Bucky’s still damp hair. “Let’s go get breakfast.”
…
Twenty minutes later and Bucky was quite happily shoving pancakes into his mouth, washing it down with black coffee and sneaking a few bites under the table for Bear.
Steve was slightly more elegantly but just as enthusiastically tackling the biggest plate of omelette that Bucky’d ever seen.
Carefully steering away from the topic of Gabe and therapy, the pair chatted mainly about Steve and Peggy instead. How he’d gotten a call the day before that could be Steve’s big break, that they wanted a piece for a charity event and they wanted Steve to create it and let all the rich gits of New York battle to get their hands on it. How Peggy had come back from work a couple of days previous, dressed in completely different clothes and carrying a blonde wig in her hands. Bucky knew she was up to some seriously badass stuff but it seemed that even Steve was beginning to be confused on what exactly it was his wife did. It was actually funny to see Stevie so clueless about his own partner.
As they talked about Peggy, Bucky casually dropped his encounter at the doctors into the mix. Well, he wasn’t going to disclose the whole conversation because that would be fucking mortifying, but the important bits.
It had been two days since he’d met the most attractive people he’d ever seen and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about them. He’d actually had a dream including flashes of red hair and calloused hands, waking up covered in sweat like he’d just experienced his first sex dream as a teenager.
The pair were intriguing, captivating, gorgeous, and Bucky wanted more. He wanted more of that brilliant smile from Natasha, more of those throaty chuckles from Clint, more time spent admiring just how pretty they were. Just more of them.
“And then Bear nearly fuckin’ tripped her up and I thought for sure they were gonna be mad but then Natasha told me she had the number of a dog trainer, one they’d gone to and guess what?” Bucky paused to take a gulp of his orange juice.
“What?” The corners of Steve’s lips were curled up into that damn stupid smile of his, the one that told Bucky that the blond knew something he didn’t.
“I called her. The dog trainer, I mean. And yeah sure Bear needs training but I’d kinda given up on that anyway. I called ‘cause I thought she might be my ticket to seeing them again. I’ve got my appointment later on this week.”
“So you really like ‘em, huh?” Steve hummed, one infuriating eyebrow raised.
“I don’t know, man, they were probably just bein’ nice. ‘Cause my dogs a mess and I’m missing a whole ass arm. Besides, just because I swing both ways and have no problems with more than two people, don’t mean they’re the same. But damn Stevie, there’s just something about them. I can’t get them outta my head, it’s crazy, we spoke for like a minute. About dogs.” Bucky groaned and shook his head.
“C’mon man, have you looked in the mirror lately?” Steve hummed over his coffee, that stupid secret smirk on his face. “If they were being nice, it wasn’t ‘cause of Bear or your arm.”
“Yeah, I have looked in the mirror. And lemme tell you, it’s a fucking mess.” Bucky muttered, suddenly not so interested in his pancakes anymore. In fact, staring at the syrup dripping down and pooling onto the plate actually made him feel a little nauseous. Dammit, his anxiety had even ruined breakfast food. What a fucking joke.
“Look, I know you’ve got this whole self-suffering thing goin’ on right now but you’re being fuckin’ ridiculous. You’ve always been the one to get the guys and gals. You have the whole badass look, long hair. Jesus, man, you’re all muscle, you know that right? And hey, the guys are your kinda thing but if they were mine too…” Steve waggled his eyebrows.
And Jesus, the nights young Bucky had spent praying to hear the exact thing Steve was saying. The fucking dreams he’d had too, damn. Young Bucky had been full of post-pubescent confusion and hormones and a whole ass mess long before the army. He had seriously been infatuated with Steve from that first time he’d picked the scrawny boy up from the gravel. Many heartbreaks later, and he’d slowly realized what that truly meant. He had always wondered though, if Stevie had swung that way, if things would have been different?
He used to think they would have been but now, Bucky realized he’d been so infatuated because Steve was the first guy, first person really, aside from his family, to show any interest in him whatsoever. But now, all grown up, Bucky knew nothing would have ever blossomed there beside him gaining a new brother. And honestly, that was the way he liked it.
Steve was still staring at him so Bucky just shrugged. “No homo though right?” he teased.
“Oh, full homo.” Steve grinned back, shaking his head. “But seriously, man, you gotta learn to see yourself the way other people do, the way I do. Plus, didn’t you say they had their own service dog? If anyone’s gonna understand your arm, it’s probably them.”
And fuck it if Steve wasn’t right. Again.
“Whatever.” Bucky murmured. “’S not like I’m probably ever goin’ to see them again. They were just being kind.”
“You are so blind sometimes, Buck, I swear.” Steve muttered, placing his coffee cup down and leaning over the table. He even folded his fingers together like a villain in a movie and his voice was hushed as he spoke next.
“Guess we just gotta make sure you see ‘em again.”