Chapter Text
No one trusted him.
It had never been said aloud, but it was in their eyes. In the way people stepped carefully around him. It was the way that people measured how they spoke to him. Or how they avoided him all together.
He didn't blame them.
There was no one to vouch for him. Hell, Bucky didn't think he would vouch for himself. He barely knew anybody. He barely knew himself. Everyone he cared about was either dead or so far away that they were just as unreachable. The man he'd loved— abandoned him.
He had asked him once if he was worth it to him, but never had gotten that straight answer. Well, that wasn't true. He got his answer when he left.
Really, he should've seen it coming. He and Steve had their few month fling in Wakanda— something that meant everything to himself, but apparently hadn't meant much to the other. He had left so easily. He always had. He didn't blame him really. Why would someone want someone so broken and twisted from how they had been before? Why want someone with so much baggage that it could sink a ship?
Why would anyone want him?
They didn't trust him.
The person he was supposed to spill all his dirty little secrets to sure as hell didn't. He had been in 'therapy' for two months now and only felt worse about himself. Maybe her type of therapy worked on some people, but it sure as hell wasn't with him. It only made him feel the isolation more.
The distrust.
It had been strong enough to get someone's attention. Someone that had to be high on the totem pole to pull the right strings. The world was in such heavy chaos right now that maybe it was easy really.
They were assigning someone to watch him. To live with him. It had been decided that he needed around the clock monitoring— and now some poor military fuck was going to be the one trailing him around until the government decided he'd be better with a bullet in his head.
Dr. Raynor had been the one to tell him, but she didn't seem to enjoy the idea either. He really doubted she had any part other than everyone else in the arrangement being far too afraid to be the one to say it. She had delivered it dry as ever and watched in actually a hint of interest at his expression speeding through the five stages of grief.
Bucky may have protested if the last three months hadn't been so shit that it might as well happen too. He had come back to life after apparently five fucking years just to fight an even worse alien battle than the one when he turned to dust, then the love of his fucking life had left him without much thought. Then he had to deal with being thrown around by the government and finally excused because of fighting for apparently half the universe to be brought back. Even more then, thrown in therapy to deal with it all, but mostly just to try to drag out what he remembered with Hydra and everything else he'd ever done wrong in his life. Which was a growing, overwhelming list.
He was angry, but he was also beat down. He was so fucking tired that sure, whatever, make some poor fuck watch him.
Really, he felt sorry for the shmuck getting saddled with this job. He had skimmed the information he'd been given— trying to figure out what to expect at the very least. He couldn't understand why this army Captain was being punished the way he was.
Or maybe people were just that damn scared of him.
Bucky still needed to pack his bag, having been blankly staring at the wall for the past four hours instead. It wasn't like he had much anyways. A couple drawers of clothes, some things for his arm, whatever was in the bathroom, and the few blankets he had bought himself.
They had barred him from working or choosing where he lived, saying it was repayment to have his living arrangements paid for and a monthly check of a laughable amount— but all of this had cleared his suspicions into truth. Keeping him this way left a smaller footprint. The government could move him around wherever they pleased and he was at their mercy for it if he wanted to stay a free man.
He hadn't complained about the apartment. It was fine. But he also wasn't in any way attached— it was just the principle of it all that irritated him. He had to move, and move to a two bedroom apartment, because some people decided that they couldn't trust him to be alone.
The knock on his door gets head to turn, staring that way for a long minute before huffing softly at a second, louder knock. The brunette gets to his feet, slow to go toward the door before a third knock.
Past him would've been suspicious. Would've listened first, then checked through the peephole to see who was there. Would've gone on the defense immediately.
Current him didn't care. He was irritated and a ball of pent up upset, neither of which was being allowed to leak out onto features.
Bucky pulls the door open, interrupting the raise of hand for a fourth knock, but the man quickly lets hand fall to his side to stand more properly.
Eyes scan the blonde's face before heart flutters. Then panic and anger take over, shutting the door before the man can offer a word to him.
God— this guy looked like Steve.
Not like the last time he'd seen Steve though— closer to before. Before both of them had been through hell and back on a weekly basis.
If this was some sort of time fuck up where this was a grandkid or something— Bucky was going to throw himself out the fucking window.
An uncertain knock comes this time, making Buck realize he's still pressing both hands against it. Still gritting teeth and frowning hard.
"Mr. Barnes?"
"Who the hell are you?" Bucky calls back.
"John Walker," The man calls back, pausing before continuing, "I came to pick you up?"
The brunette doesn't budge from his place holding the door shut as though someone was trying to break it down. He doesn't say a word, staring at the faint lines of grain down the door as he tries to exhale calmer.
"For the apartment? Uh— I'm the guy they assigned to monitor you?" The unsure voice continues.
Fuck.
Bucky forces himself into moving again, cracking the door to peek out at him. He could only hope his behavior would be taken as someone paranoid— which he was too but that's besides the point— instead of a man losing his goddamn marbles just because there was a very nice looking blonde guy outside his door.
"They told you, right? They said they would?" Walker asks, offering a concerned smile while eyebrows perk upwards in a familiar way.
No, this was definitely worse than some sort of new time travel related grandkid showing up.
Buck pushes the door open more, knowing he wasn't making a good case for himself in not needing someone watching him. It was just— maybe the eyes— or the jaw— the way he was presenting himself— he felt sick to his stomach with familiarity twisting foreign.
This man was a stranger to him. There was no connection to Steve. It had to be something in his broken heart trying to make a comparison.
"I—" Bucky starts before squeezing eyes shut to try to start again, "Right. They told me to expect you today," He manages to string together, looking to Walker again.
The expression loses the concern, but something nervous still stays. It wasn't that look of fear or uncertainty that he was so used to when someone first met him; it was almost something akin to giddy.
"Oh good, that would've been awkward as hell to explain," The blonde gives, polite smile staying in place for now.
Bucky takes a step back, making a half motion for him to come in, "I— haven't packed fully," He says, brain still in a whirlwind of thoughts. He felt like it would be easier to go into some auto-pilot of social interaction than to even begin to sort through anything he was thinking right now.
"That's okay," John quickly reassures, moving into his space with the backwards step.
They do a slightly awkward shuffle with Bucky never having really realized how little space opening the door gave to let someone in. Walker was sort of the first— and he had a good size for trying to shift past.
The man offers a polite apology at bumping him, passing close enough to catch the light scent of nice cologne that had to be trapped under the military jacket.
Bucky closes the door again after the other manages into the more open space of the living room, eyes coming back to the man waiting out of the way for him to take the lead farther in.
He hesitates to not lock the door back out of habit, shaking head a little as he walks the short hallway.
"You need any help?— Uh, with packing?"
"No. It won't take me long."
"I'll— wait out here then, if that's alright?"
Bucky nods, giving a half motion to the couch as he meanders for his bedroom. It gets him away to run hands down his face, trying to figure out why the fuck he felt— flustered.
Sure, his social skills had fallen off the map years ago, but he couldn't say he often felt awkward. He didn't know if it had to do with the situation in general or the man himself. Something just— made his chest feel weird and his stomach twist sour.
He tries not to think about it as he shoves everything he owns in either a backpack or duffel bag. The few things that weren't clothes or blankets go in the backpack, figuring it'd be easier in the long run to find. It couldn't have taken him more than ten minutes to pack up everything he owned, grabbing both bags to return to the living room.
Walker's flipping through the folder they'd given Buck about him, doing a double-take at him already coming back with his bags. His expression quickly hides something somber away to neutral out.
"They really just gave you a booklet on me, huh?" John tries to tease, smile coming back to lips as his gaze follows along.
"I skimmed it. Felt— intrusive— to read fully," Half the truth. It felt weird trying to learn someone from a file— but also he hadn't really cared enough.
Walker shoves the papers back into the large envelope as Bucky parts again to grab his last bag from the kitchen. He'd eaten everything in the fridge and freezer to not worry about it, having shoved the bit in the pantry in an Aldi's bag. Good enough.
"Is this everything?"
"Yeah," Buck answers, making a face at coming back to the other picking up his bags. "I can get those."
"I got it," Walker reassures, at least being careful with each. Not that he really needed to. "I can put these down in the car unless you're ready?— I'm not trying to rush you. Promise."
The brunette rounds past him to put the envelope in the bag and then shove his phone in a pocket, "I'm fine to leave."
"Sure you got everything?"
"Yeah. Don't have much to forget about."
The blonde tilts head with a half smile, "After you then."
"Right," Bucky mutters, taking quicker steps to hide the slight warmth coming to his cheeks. What the hell was up with him today?
He snags the key to head out, waiting for the other man to exit before pulling the door shut to lock for one last time. He gives a glance to the blonde before heading down the stairs, coming out near the desk to drop off the key at.
The other man takes the lead from there, taking quicker steps to get the door for Bucky, even if he's carrying more. It earns a quiet thanks, waiting for him to show him what car to even go to.
"Got a rental right now," John chats as he heads to one at a guest parking spot for the apartment building. "Was hoping to look at used ones in the area this weekend after my paycheck comes in."
"Getting paid a lot for this?" Bucky asks, genuinely curious.
"More than before," He answers, popping the trunk to put each bag in before taking the third one from the brunette.
"And was this forced or? Because you seem overqualified to be stuck babysitting a grown man."
John huffs a laugh, waiting until both of them were in the car to give his response, "I was in a— difficult situation. They offered this and I took it right away."
Bucky glances over with a raise of brows at that.
The blonde gets the car going before looking to him, trying to judge the look before offering a response, "Well, I woke up in the barracks to yelling, fell to the floor, then got back up five years later."
"Ah."
"The army needed to fill that position while I was gone, obviously. So I was sent home until they could figure out what to do with everyone that reappeared— but— I was in a tougher situation because my wife had gotten remarried about a year ago."
That last part gets Bucky making a face. Yikes. "Oh. I'm— sorry," He offers. That— had to be rough.
"It's— I'm just glad she had someone while I was gone. Could be easier on her with not having to move around so much too," John offers back, not looking over again as he speaks.
Buck lowers eyes away to give him the privacy to deal with whatever pain that brought up. He supposed he could see why the man had taken this job. Could be a new start. He just felt bad that the guy went through that and was stuck with him of all people.
"The apartment is nice, by the way," Walker offers, forcing a change in the subject, "I moved in yesterday. Didn't unpack much yet— kind of wanted to wait for you."
"Why's that?" The brunette gives, deciding to watch out the window as they talked. He had no idea where the place was beyond outside the city.
"I guess— I— Wanted you to be comfortable as the second person coming? It felt rude to shove everything where I wanted it before you had a chance to look," The blonde replies, making careful turns in the traffic. He didn't seem very used to the area.
Bucky gives a small noise as his own response. Made sense, even if he really hadn't expected the guy to try to actually be accommodating. He wasn't sure what he had expected— definitely not this guy. He didn't know if that made him feel better or worse about the situation.
Chapter Text
Bucky isn't overly interested in conversation on the ride to the new apartment, and appreciates John not trying to push him on it. He seemed nice enough, but then again they had only known each other all of twenty minutes by then. Still, he didn't feel any wariness from the other man. He hoped it would stay that way, not wanting to live with someone that couldn't trust him too.
His attention stays out the window to watch their surroundings up until John turns off the radio, turning to look his way.
"We're about a minute out," John comments, deciding to break the silence.
"Area doesn't look too bad," Bucky murmurs back, shifting body away from the window to face him better. He supposed if Walker wanted to talk, then he should indulge him.
"It's nice. I think," The blonde nods, "I've never lived in a city before though."
"New York's a hell of a place to be your first," Buck snorts, even if he had been the same way. Though it wasn't— like this exactly. Some things were better and some things were worse he supposed. Certain things were still fuzzy in his head too, sure it was damaged beyond repair in his brain to lose that information.
"Where are you from?"
"Georgia, originally. Moved around a decent amount after joining the military," Walker answers, "Visit relatives and my best friend's family there still."
"Yeah? Friend in the military?" Bucky asks.
John hums with a nod, "Yeah, Lemar. Practically been together since high school. Same college. Worked flawlessly together, so kept us in units together in the army— maybe had to suck up a little for that though."
"He lose five years too or?"
"Yeah. Must've came back around the same time since he practically fell on top of me," Walker laughs, earning a small smile from Bucky. He could tell talking about the guy made him perk up a lot. "Not sure if it's a good thing to admit or not, but sort of glad we both went together. I don't think I could go without him and vice versa."
Bucky offers a soft hum, "I think that's fair to say," He gives. He understood the sentiment, maybe more than he wished. He had never wanted to go without Steve, yet here he was. He just hoped for Walker's sake that it would never sour the same way his own situation had.
John nods to him, smiling without looking over as he takes a turn into a small parking area, assuming this was the place. "He got sent home too. Said his mama didn't let him go for the next week."
Another soft snort, "Go see yours?" He asks.
"Nah— we don't have a very good relationship. Went to see my sister though while I had the chance." He replies, pulling into a parking space.
Buck gives a small hum, deciding not to push on that. He could decide on his own what he felt comfortable sharing right off the bat. He unbuckles, moving to get out of the car as Walker shuts it off, stretching with a look around. It seemed like a cluster of apartments on the street with a small park across from them. That would be nice to have. He had seen some corner stores on the way over, at least glad to have food in walking distance still.
He moves around to the trunk to wait, hearing the pop of it unlocking, but sort of looking in confusion on how to actually open it.
"Here, I got it," John reassures, forcing him to back off to reach up under a spot to pull it open. Cars were so weird nowadays.
The brunette starts to move in to get his bags, but the other man picks them up again to carry, not even giving him a chance to do it. "I can get those.." He tries.
"Nah, I got it."
"You sure..?"
"Yep."
He seemed like he had them fine, but— it was just weird that he wanted to. He didn't know if he was being extra polite just to make a good impression, or if he was just like that. Bucky was still heavy in the process of trying to figure the man out. And still trying to figure out why he had willingly taken this.
Walker leads the way for the building, balancing the bags to dig out keys to get the main door unlocked. He steps back, holding it open for the brunette while carrying his stuff on the other side.
"Are you sure you have all of that? I can carry something?" Bucky tries a third time, but is met with a shake of head.
"Already said I got it," The man winks.
He hates how that makes his cheeks redden, quickly moving through the door instead to hide it. Maybe his hair was long enough to hide any visible blush.
John takes the lead again with the brunette trailing along behind him, heading up the staircase to the third floor. Their apartment is at the very end of the hall, the other man messing with keys to fit the right one into the door. "They only had one set of keys, by the way. Figure we can go by somewhere to get another set made instead of waiting for them to do it," He mentions, letting Bucky go on in first.
"I mean, we're supposed to stay together anyways," Buck snorts, only half joking— but would heavily prefer to have his own key. He didn't want to be dependent to get into the place he was supposed to live.
Eyes scan the place as he moves inside, the entry way opening up way better than the one before. It leads pretty immediately into an offshoot to the kitchen, noticing it was a clear view like his other had been from there to the living room. He assumed the little bit of furniture already there had to be John's.
The couch looked nice and there were a couple empty shelves with an empty place in the middle probably for a TV. There was a recliner mismatched from the couch, then a few lamps without any tables yet. The only table in the room was a fold-out one set near the kitchen island with three different chairs.
"This stuff yours?" Bucky muses, careful of the handful of boxes around.
"Yeah— bought it off my aunt. She had a bunch of stuff in storage," John nods, finally handing over Bucky's two bags before going to set the last in the kitchen. "Had bedroom stuff, living room stuff, but not a table. I— improvised," He continues with a huffed laugh.
"Sorry I don't have anything to contribute yet. All mine was sort of— loaned I guess." Still was really. He'd been told they would give the basics for his bedroom, likely still trapping him in the idea of being able to pick up and move without any notice.
"Nah, don't worry about that," John dismisses, "Told the guys that came out yesterday to put your stuff in the master. I can help move it if you don't like where they put it."
"Oh, uh, thanks," Buck says, figuring the bedroom with the open door was his own. The other one was cracked open with a box outside of it. "You sure you don't want the bigger one? I don't really— keep much stuff."
"I don't think I'd use the space much either," The other reassures.
Buck moves to take a peek in the room just to make sure it was the right one, at least able to tell with the bathroom door open and the bed without any sheets yet.
"I told my friend I'd call him back, you mind?" John asks.
"Do whatever you want. I'll go put my stuff up," The brunette dismisses, not caring what the other man did.
He slips into his own room, pushing the door almost shut to give them both some privacy. He figured a lot of the polite behavior was the other man figuring out boundaries and how Bucky would react to them. The guy had to know about working with other people pretty heavily from what he'd skimmed with the military info. Still, there was something that he couldn't quite put his finger on with how the man was treating him.
It made feeling attraction towards the guy even more awkward. He really needed to get ahold of himself to shove those thoughts off. Was he really so heartbroken that he couldn't handle some pretty blonde man? Embarrassing.
He doesn't take long to get stuff settled around, dumping blankets on the bed for now. He would go out and buy sheets tomorrow. Plus some towels. He could see if John had one he could borrow if he wanted to shower later.
When he comes back out of his own room, he can hear muffled talking from the other's, doing his absolute best to not overhear anything. The walls didn't seem as thin as the last place, but enhanced hearing really made it harder to avoid being nosy. He takes a seat on the couch for now, rubbing hands down face tiredly.
All of this was rough. He had made the decision to come back to the states to face things for everyone else's benefit, but he was really missing those days in Wakanda. He hadn't wanted to rely on them any more than he already had, feeling like he already owed a massive debt for everything they had done for him. No, he had wanted this. For some stupid reason he had wanted to come back to New York. He had wanted to see if it made him feel any better about life in general, but was struggling to feel much good at all.
Maybe it would be good for him to live with someone else. It might help keep him from spiraling harder.
His eyes flick up to said someone as the blonde comes back out of his room, sliding phone into pocket and offering a smile over to him. "Hey, you wanna go get pizza? There's a place a few blocks down?" Walker asks.
"Sure," Buck nods, thinking getting a look around the area would be a good idea. Plus, he wasn't one to turn down the idea of food. He stands with a stretch and grunt, waiting for John to take the lead in heading out.
The other snags wallet and keys again, moving to open the door and hold it for Bucky to go on out, hand touching his back as he goes and sort of making him jump. He glances back to the other man, but he's already turned to pull the door shut and lock it. Best he just let it go. And not get flustered about it.
He follows him to head down the stairs and for the door, not surprised when he grabs it for him again. "You don't have to hold the door for me, you know," Bucky comments.
"I was raised to always how the door for old people," John replies without a beat.
The brunette stops and stares at him for that, earning an innocent smile out of the man. "Oh, funny guy, huh," Buck comments dryly, cracking a tiny smile as he heads on outside.
The blonde seems very pleased with himself on that one, grinning at him as he joins. He didn't know if he had just made a mistake in taking whatever bait the other had just thrown for the joke. He didn't know him at all, but there was something sly in the way he had looked for the reaction of the words. Polite was hiding the sass back, huh?
He shoves hands in his pockets, waiting for John to take the lead. "Had New York pizza before?" He asks.
"Not yet. At least not authentically in New York."
"Think I've learned that if the people running the place are assholes, then it's gonna be good. If they're nice, then it's a shot in the dark," Buck squints off ahead. He supposed they would see which it was, but he doubted any place would stay open around here if the pizza wasn't good. Same with any street vendors or food trucks. He had been enjoying getting greasy as hell food after moving back.
"Good to know," Walker snorts, leading, but trying to stay more next to him to talk.
Every glance the brunette spared over to him as they went gave him notice to the way the other man watched the street. He was on guard, but not towards himself. He guessed it was hard coming out of active duty to civilian life like this, especially for someone who said he never lived in a city before.
"Mind me putting you on the spot for something?" Bucky asks after they get onto sidewalk from a crosswalk.
"Shoot," John nods.
"Are you always nice? Or just— trying for that first impression?"
The man gets a surprised look to face at likely the bluntness, but Bucky would feel better about trying to put his trust in him if he knew that answer. Plus, he was curious to know how he would take being put on the spot.
"Oh, no, I'm an asshole," Walker smirks, "But I usually need a reason to be. I grew up around a shit ton of passive aggressiveness— guess to combat that I turned out more blunt."
The brunette gives a hum, somewhat satisfied in the answer.
John seems to pick up on the partial acceptance, "I— Well, I also grew up— with uh,— Captain America was a big role model. My brother would show me the comics he got." He admits, pink springing up cheeks even to redden at his ears.
The comment clicks a lot of things into place. The man looked up to Steve— and now he was saddled with watching his past best friend. It also gets a tiny rise of red on his own cheeks at realizing this guy might be idolizing him too.
"Oh, I see," Buck hums, trying not to think anything negative about that. The man was obviously embarrassing himself just saying it, he didn't want to make it worse. Even if he had called him old. "Steve was a good guy— I don't blame you for looking up to him," He gives. His own hurt feelings aside, he still loved that man more than anyone. He hated that he did. But he also could admit that Steve was a good person.
Bucky just— wasn't. Not anymore. Not good enough for him.
"Sorry for your loss. I hope bringing it up isn't— rude."
"Oh please, most people ask me about him. I don't mind." He did. But. He wasn't going to be the one to tarnish that man.
The world had been told he had died in the battle alongside Tony Stark. It was an easier truth to put out than the man abandoning a world that desperately needed him. He supposed in a way that it was his only chance at retiring. He had wanted to pass on the mantle and go back to some life he would never get the chance to live. Have a family or whatever the fuck he had left for.
No one could know the truth of that. It wouldn't come out of him at least. His heart break and loneliness would have to be shoved down to keep someone else's image. The world needed the man to aspire to while it was in shambles. Sam was conflicted on filling those shoes yet, but he was sure it would happen one day. It was a hard shadow to step out of, but someone needed to. Sam had heart— and it was something that made Bucky believe that the man could take on the role to cast a new shadow that would be even tougher to fill.
"I do look up to you. You've sacrificed a lot too, you know," John adds, giving a smile over at him when a flustered look passes Bucky's face.
"Well, guess I am old. Had a lot of time to do that," Buck tries to joke off, earning a grin in return from the blonde.
Chapter Text
Bucky fumbles a little with trying to slip the newly made keys onto a keyring he had just bought. He leans against the car, trying not to break the metal as John puts the last of their groceries in. He manages both on just as the other man shuts the trunk, shoving them into pocket.
He gets the door open to get in before Walker can come try to get it for him, buckling in and slipping the newspaper he'd bought off the dash.
"Think of anything else you need?" The blonde asks as he gets in.
"Don't think so," Buck murmurs with a shake of head.
John hums, getting the car started up, "Guess we'll be back out this way on Friday to pick up some things anyways," He adds. He had mentioned about buying a few things for the apartment, especially an actual table and TV for the living room. Both would be good to have really.
"Supposed to get the new car on Thursday, right?"
"Yeah. I don't think a table would fit in this one," The blonde muses, pulling out of the parking lot. The roads already were looking congested for the way back.
"What? You don't want to tape it to the roof?" Bucky snorts dryly, pulling phone out for the moment to add reminders about what days they were doing what. He wasn't sure if they would always be this busy, but maybe it was good for him mentally not to hide away so much.
"Uh, tape you to the roof with it," John comments, bumping the radio on low.
The brunette snorts again at that, "Rudeass," He mutters, opening a note he had for himself for tomorrow and frowning, "Ah— shit," He huffs.
"What?"
"Forgot I have a therapy appointment tomorrow," He frowns. His many reminders the next morning would've kept him from missing it, but he had completely forgotten that there was an extra appointment this month because of moving.
"What time? I'll take you," John offers.
"Two," Bucky answers, holding in the protest that he didn't have to— since he kind of did. He just felt bad that the man would have to deal with whatever sour mood the appointment put him in after.
"Send me the address?"
A hum as he does.
"If it's too— personal— I can stay out in the car instead of the waiting room," John offers, causing the brunette to look over with a raise of eyebrows.
"No— that's alright. I don't want you having to sit out in the car— unless you want to," The brunette answers. It was sweet of him to offer it. Which was kind of the theme with the other man. He was sweet.
"Depends how comfortable the chairs are."
"Depends how much they can put up with you squirming from sitting for more than five minutes."
"Hey."
Bucky smiles, picking up the paper from his lap to start reading over. He scans the front page to be something about protests aimed towards the GRC. It seemed like every government was dealing with a huge mess, and most of them weren't handling it in a way that actually benefited either side. He hoped it would get better with time, knowing the two of them were some of the lucky ones to be displaced.
He turns to the next page, frowning at seeing blurry pictures with an article about sightings of possibly sick animals with speculation that it could be connected with reports of homeless disappearances. One of the pictures reminded him of some of the aliens, really hoping none had been left alive in Wakanda to just— be out there. He did not want to deal with those damn things again.
If anyone got a better picture and it was— then he would go try to find and deal with it. He knew there were a list of other capable people in New York to deal with it too, but it didn't help his sense of responsibility lessen. Plus, he didn't have much going on in his life right now. He was just— lost.
The areas the reports were from seem to be somewhat close to their apartment, keeping in mind to keep an eye on the few homeless individuals that hung near the park. He didn't want something happening to any of them, knowing that the police sure wouldn't put resources into looking.
He feels the car at a stop-and-go of traffic before finally stopping completely, lowering paper to see the bumper-to-bumper vehicles. Well, gave him more time to read.
"You know, I don't think anyone younger than my grandma reads the paper anymore. Most the news is online now," John starts.
"I don't like all the videos that pop up when I want to read an article," Bucky dryly replies, turning the page.
The blonde snorts at him, "Remind me to show you what ad-block is."
"Remind me not to listen."
"Hey, I'm trying to help you, old man," John jabs back.
Buck hums, choosing to ignore him so that he could continue reading. That works for all of two minutes before the other starts drumming fingers against the steering wheel, not having moved more than a couple feet in the traffic. Something told him that the other man wasn't going to let him finish reading.
"Anything interesting?" The blonde asks.
"You can look it up on your phone later," Bucky mutters.
"Fine. I will."
The brunette hums again.
Only a few seconds of quiet before, "I thought city traffic was just a cliche thing."
A hum.
"Sucks."
Hum.
Eyes flick to movement before John's flicking the back of the paper, earning the brunette to finally look over at him. "Aren't you supposed to be paying attention to the road?"
"Why? We aren't moving."
Buck sighing with a shake of head as he tries to look back down. He isn't sure if he should even continue trying to read with it very clear the blonde was going to keep bugging him.
"Not as many taxi's as I thought. Isn't that supposed to be a New York thing? Lot of taxis."
The brunette only offers a grunt this time.
"Never been in a taxi before— I don't think."
Bucky sighing quietly.
"You been in one?"
No reply.
"Been in church vans though. That's sort of like a taxi."
Nope. Not giving in.
"Barfed in one too. Got dared to eat an entire bag of marshmallows before. We hit a bump and it all shot back up."
Oh he could hear it in the other's voice that he was enjoying trying to bug him. He just wasn't looking to give him the satisfaction of replying.
"You had marshmallows?— Ohh, you have s'mores before? I like putting them in the microwave so they look like they're about to blow up."
If he killed him, could he claim he was part of the missing people.
"Bucky."
No, he couldn't kill him. He had people that would miss him.
"Buck."
Maybe if he killed himself instead.
"Buuucky."
"Yes?" He gives.
"Can I turn up the radio? Would that be too distracting?"
The brunette turns head to the man, narrowing eyes at the barely contained smile. No, he was going to have to kill both of them. "You can turn up the radio," He answers calmly. As though he wasn't considering a murder-suicide.
The downside, he realizes, is that it was just another tactic for getting on his nerves. The blonde had found some song currently playing to turn up enough to have the car vibrating from the volume. Beyond the music practically rattling the seat up his ass and into his soul, John is singing as high pitched as he can with the woman vocalist.
Bucky neatly folds the paper before leaning enough to thunk head against the dashboard. Unfortunately, that's rattling too.
He sits back in his seat again, staring out the front windshield and wondering which car would be willing to run him over. He hears the smack against metal before a harder one lightly sways him, turning head to see John looking at the road, but starting to whack hand into prosthetic shoulder.
Eyes lower as the hand moves to grab around metal arm instead, limply letting himself be shaken around a little for the man to apparently entertain himself. As sweet as John was, there was something deeply wrong with this man.
Whatever that was, at least pulls an amused snort out of Bucky, hoping the music was too loud to hear it. The last thing he needed to do was enable him.
His eyes happen to flick to a glint of metal as the sun catches it with the car making a turn. John was still wearing his wedding ring. He adverts eyes immediately, not wanting to risk drawing attention to that fact.
Right. John was really trying with him here— with everything he was going through.
Fingers move to turn the music down, but not enough to be completely quiet, though shifting body more the other's way to talk instead. "Is it out of your system?" He comments.
"No."
Bucky rolls up the paper to pop him on the shoulder instead, "Great. I was hoping you would never do that again."
"Well that's not going to happen," John grins, making another turn that graciously gets them out of traffic and more towards the apartment.
"Remind me to get noise-canceling headphones next ride out."
"Uh, no."
"Okay, then I'll remind myself to never let you go in a coffee shop again."
"You can't stop me, Barnes," The blonde challenges, smile pulling at the corner of his lips with a glance his way.
"Don't test me, boy," Bucky snorts back.
"Boy? Alright, pappy."
Buck thunks him in the head with the newspaper this time before just putting it up on the dashboard again. He could finish reading it later when someone wasn't all over him for attention. He didn't know if he was just bored or— this was a normal thing for him. Or some sort of distraction. He had to assume some of it was coming to civilian life so suddenly after such a high stress job. They were both adjusting to living like this, but it was in very different ways.
"Heard from your friend today?" The brunette asks, knowing the other was also having a hard time adjusting to being away from him. Even within just this first week of knowing each other, the other had been talking about him a lot.
"Yeah, this morning. A friend of ours got him a job secured for helping recruits. He's nowhere near mean enough to be a drill sergeant, but I know he's the perfect choice for them to aspire to."
Bucky can't help a small smile at how highly he talked about the other, "Glad to hear."
"Yeah, I was too. To be honest, I was worried they would put him back into active deployment. I— He's capable. He would be fine. But—" John trails.
"You'd want to be with him," The brunette finishes for him.
"Yeah."
"I can understand that. Not selfish to say," He reassures.
John nods, "Glad you do."
Buck hums softer this time. He did have to wonder how much the other was hiding away. There was no way anyone in his same situation was fine, and he knew that Walker was just keeping whatever he felt pushed down. It gave himself that understanding about him. It was likely the biggest thing keeping himself from getting bitter about their situation.
"I know it's nosy to say, but you don't really seem to be talking to anyone. The first time I saw you move your phone off the counter was to bring it today," The blonde comments with a brief glance over.
"I have people in my phone, but not really in my life. I don't think I'm in a place where I'm ready to handle people, and people aren't really ready to handle me," He answers, shrugging it off.
"I'd argue, but— I mean they did assign a person to live with you."
Bucky gives a huffed laugh.
"You're a good guy though. A little moody, sure," Walker teases.
"No idea why they never made you an inspirational speaker," Buck drones, glad when he can see their road.
"Oh I know. I love talking."
"I know."
John elbows against his metal arm, letting himself sway with the nudge. He was getting a little more used to how much the man wanted to touch and smack playfully on him. And trying to get used to how much he wanted his attention in general. Such a weird man.
The brunette unbuckles as they get parked, stretching in his spot before getting out of the car. He grabs the paper out, folding it enough to shove in the waistband of his pants for now to keep his hands free for groceries.
"Hey— if you get the bread and eggs, want to see me get the rest in one trip?" John comments as he heads for the trunk.
Buck rolls eyes as he moves to join him, "Yeah, alright."
Notes:
Actually got around to plotting this one out better to update the tags and characters. Still might add more if I think of any but. Wooooo
Also I like to think John knows all the girly pop songs solely to sing as off key as he can manage around other people. Because he would.
Chapter Text
It felt like the closer they got to the therapy office, the more Bucky's mood soured. Getting to the parking lot of the building absolutely fills his stomach with that pit of nerves and dread. He hated going. He never felt better after.
Always like shit. Vulnerable.
He didn't dislike Dr. Raynor, but he didn't feel like she was a good fit for him. Unfortunately, he had no actual say in the matter. He wasn't sure if she volunteered to take on his case, or if she had just been the one that ended up with him. It was hard to say if anyone would actually know how to help him process things— but that never had seemed the goal when he was told about the mandatory counseling. It was to make sure he wasn't a threat. To make sure he was past all the things he had done with no sort of risk of falling back that way. To make him fix everything that had been so out of his control, yet left him riddled with guilt.
Buck knew it wasn't what specifically Dr. Raynor was doing— but everyone else— it was an invasion of his privacy. That was more clear than ever when they brought John into all of this.
"You alright?" John asks after turning the car off.
Bucky sits up from being slumped down in his seat, "Great," He huffs back.
"At least it's just an hour. Be over before you know it," The blonde tries to encourage. He seemed to be trying to judge what would help.
"Yeah," He mutters, unbuckling to get out.
Something about getting out of the car instead of slumping out of a taxi or making the walk felt— harder. Like he was actually leaving some sort of comfort to do something he didn't want to. He hadn't exactly had that sort of feeling since leaving Wakanda.
Buck takes the lead for the door, but of course lets John get it for him by slowing a couple steps to give him the opening. He gives a quiet thanks, moving in and waiting a moment for the other to follow. He goes to check in, giving a tiny smile to the receptionist to be polite before going to take a seat.
John takes the spot next to him, offering a smile in probably reassurances and elbowing him lightly. It made him wonder how obvious it was that he didn't want to be here. Or if John just picked up on it during the car ride there. He had been quieter for him on the way.
His own eyes lower away from the blonde, resting on some spot on the floor to blankly stare at for now.
God, he was tired.
Usually he would act like he was looking at some magazine in the waiting room, but having the other man there gave him a tiny boost of confidence to not hide away so much. Especially with him trying to bump knees with him every little bit while waiting.
"Barnes," Raynor's voice greets as she comes out to get him.
Bucky raises eyes, meeting hers before they turn to the man next to him.
"Oh hey! Christina," John pipes up in greeting.
"Walker. I had my suspicions at the name when I saw the file," Raynor nods.
Bucky blinks, glancing to John with a slight furrow of brows in questioning, "Army. Worked together for some field ops," The blonde answers.
"Ah," Buck half gives, but feeling some sort of relief about that. It just seemed coincidence— and helped reinforce that his therapist had no real hand in putting him in this living situation.
Okay.
And good to know she talked in that same voice to everyone.
His eyes turn back to his therapist, huffing silently at seeing her trying to access how he was acting already. Fair. But.
"Why don't both of you come back. I'd like to touch base on this whole," She half motions, "Situation."
"Yeah, sure," John answers, getting up and offering hand out to Bucky when he hesitates on moving.
Bucky huffs quietly again, taking the hand to let him help him to feet, not thrilled about this at all. He didn't care that John was going back with him— not really at least— but he wasn't ready for the appointment in general. He wasn't ready to hear what the other two would talk about towards him.
He feels the hand on his back as John urges him to go on first, taking the lead over to Raynor and already noticing her cocking a brow at the behavior. She doesn't make whatever comment she's thinking, taking the lead back to her office to let them in.
Instead of his usual middle spot, he moves to take one of the sides of the couch, watching without much surprise as John takes the middle to not have much space between them. Why should he be surprised? It was how he sat with him on their own couch the past week; not right up on him, but close enough to bump or touch him when he wanted to.
Whatever.
Bucky stares sideways towards the floor at that piece of wood flooring that was kind of chipped in the middle. It was where his eyes always went when he didn't want to look up. When he didn't want to see how Dr. Raynor was looking back at him. He just wanted to get through this and go home.
More than that, he hoped he wouldn't be put in some vulnerable place with John in the room.
"Feel like aspen trees are a weird choice on the wall," John starts chattering, turning around in his spot and pulling Bucky's eyes as he bumps leg into his own, "Trees with the eyes 'nd all."
"They're just trees," Raynor comments.
"Well, yeah, but. It's just a weird choice," John comments, leaning up a little more to more crush up leg against Bucky's as he looks behind the couch, "Really left a lot of room between the couch and the wall."
He didn't know if he was just messing with her to be annoying or trying to ease Buck with being dumb on purpse. Likely both.
Bucky flicks eyes up to her to catch an eye roll, "Anything else?" She dryly asks.
The blonde plops back down to sit straight, "No, just sayin'. It could be a little less vulnerable in here. Especially on this little couch. It's like judgement island right here."
"Thank you for the input, Walker. Glad to know you're the same as ever."
John grins at that before looking over to Bucky for his reaction.
Buck doesn't want to back him up on that one, just inhaling and shaking head before looking back down to the floor. Good to know other people knew he was a strange man.
He hears the click of a pen and a few things scribbled down, trying his best not to bristle up immediately. She was just doing her job. He just— didn't like that sound. The click. The writing. Taking observations about himself. He had heard that noise more times than he wanted outside of this room.
"I'd like to hear a little about your living situation. I know you report in on a professional level, but, as James's therapist, I need to know on a more personal level," She starts.
"Right—" John starts, leaning forwards more to talk, "Everything's been fine so far. I mean, I don't think it's been enough time for any issues to come up— not that I think they would. I think we're still both transitioning into all of this, but— I think we get along fine. Apartment is nice. Not too cramped in on each other or anything. Area is nice."
Writing sounds, "Good to hear. And your thoughts so far on Mr. Barnes here? Nothing you think I should know?" She asks in more of a dry way when she didn't want Bucky to think it was a direct jab at him.
"The most I can think of is we're just getting used to each other. I haven't had any issues with Bucky. He's quiet, but that's not a bad thing. Just means I have to bug him more to get him talking," John says, elbowing him lightly at that last part.
Yeah. Bucky was aware of that. He would've smiled if he was anywhere near comfortable.
"There's nothing that makes me think he's any danger to be around if that's what you want me to say. I'm fully comfortable living with him and I hope he's starting to get comfortable around me. I don't think there's much I can really think of other than that. We've just been settling like any normal people would."
Blue eyes nervously look up to Raynor to try to see her reaction, catching a hint of surprise as she writes notes down. He was in the same boat, almost feeling bad with how John talked about him. He felt like he shouldn't be comfortable. Like he shouldn't be fine with staying with Bucky. They got along fine— and Bucky had no real issues with the man— but he just felt too sweet to actually be okay with the brunette.
"I appreciate your answer. Might could teach Mr. Barnes to be more open," She comments, "I think that's all I need from you for today, but I would like to touch base in a month or two to make sure that's still the case."
"Of course. I mean, I should be the one always bringing him now," John nods.
Bucky glances to the blonde, getting a smile from him. He did seem genuine. John had never given any indications that he was uncomfortable with him. Really, he seemed to push more by the day to get into his space. That was clear with how close he was sitting with him now.
"You can head back out, Walker," She gives, offering at least a brief smile to the man.
John smacks Bucky on the back as he stands, "Nice seeing you again," He comments before heading back out, pulling the door quietly behind him as he leaves.
Buck watches him go before eyes come back to the woman, lingering a moment before lowering them off again. He listens to her writing what she needed before the pen clicks again. He huffs silently.
"You're taking this far better than I would've expected," She comments, leaning back in her chair with the attention turned to him now. Probably already knowing it would be a harder time getting him to talk than John.
He shrugs a little.
"You know nothing leaves this room. I need to know how you're doing with this."
Bucky gives a half shrug, "Fine. I think getting used to each other is pretty accurate. I don't have any issues with Walker."
"Can you tell me what's been going on this past week? How you've been handling it?" She urges more.
"Just— moving in. Figuring out the area, I guess."
"And how you've been handling it?"
"Fine."
"Fine?"
Bucky shrugs and nods, "Yeah. Fine. It's just— fine."
Raynor sighs at him, moving to click the pen and start writing, which makes him squirm around at it.
Goddammit.
Fine.
"It's different. But I'm okay. I don't really— have anything I can complain about. John's been nice. He adjusted faster than I have I think," Bucky gives, looking back down to the floor as he opens up more, "I just— worry. I worry he thinks too much of me because of Steve. That he thinks I'm better than I really am."
The writing stops as she listens to him, "And why would that bother you?"
Bucky flicks eyes up, swallowing and clasping hands together, "I feel like that's how Steve saw me. Some picture of how I used to be. Then found out I wasn't. I couldn't be that person anymore."
There's a look of some sort of interest as she taps the pen lightly against the book, "Do you think those two are similar? I'd like to understand why you have this worry."
"I don't know. I don't think I've figured it out yet."
"And what do you think would happen if this worry came true?"
The question sort of stumps Bucky, which he supposed was the point. It was to pull him into thinking about why that mattered to him. Why was he projecting the feelings from Steve onto someone new that he didn't really know well.
"I'm not sure."
"Are you worried he would act differently then?"
"Maybe."
"How so?"
Bucky squeezes hands together, keeping eyes glued to the floor as he searches for his answer. He sort of knew. It was all going back to trust. John had trusted him right off the bat— and he didn't think he wanted to lose that. He didn't think he could handle this one person giving him a chance right away to change his mind on it.
"I'm not sure. I would have to think on it," He says, giving his 'I don't want to push deeper right now' sort of response.
There's a quiet sigh at that, hearing the pen click and a few scribbled notes. He flicks eyes up, but refuses to budge on that. He didn't think he could yet.
"Alright— Our next major thing we mentioned touching base on last time— You've started making that list?"
That churns his stomach hard. But he gives a little nod.
"And how's that going?"
"Fine."
"You already tried that card this time."
Bucky frowns, really squeezing hands together before letting go before he can cause himself pain. His throat felt tight and chest felt even tighter. "It's hard. I wrote some names."
"Did you bring it with you?"
"No— I didn't think to grab it. I was too distracted with telling John where this was," Bucky answers. That was true at least. He rarely left without that notebook— but he had been too wound up about coming with Walker driving him that he had forgotten.
"Try to bring it next time. I want to go through that with you."
Buck nods. He dreaded it. Just the thought was making him aggravated with himself.
"I think you should start considering going over it with John. He's going to have to go with you when you feel like you can start making amends."
Eyes lift up at that, not even having considered that. Shit. John would have to come with him. He would of course have to make sure that nobody got hurt. Bucky— wouldn't. He just— He didn't want him having to see that shame. Didn't want him to be there after he fixed what damage had been caused.
Fuck.
"You don't like that," She assumes.
"I don't have a choice if I like it or not," He replies with a very fake smile, "I'll talk to him about it."
"Would you prefer to do that next time I bring him in to update me?"
"No— I— I would rather talk to him at the apartment. Bring it up in my own time," He answers, squirming in his spot slightly.
That writing sound again.
"You two are getting along?"
"Yeah. So far."
"Then what are you scared of from him?" She says plainly.
Bucky makes a face and scoffs, "I'm not scared of him."
"No, not of him. From him."
Buck clamps up at that, knowing that anything he said right now would open a can of worms that he wasn't anywhere ready to poke at. What was he supposed to say? He desperately needed the trust of a man that he barely knew? That he was trying to stop projecting feelings because he kinda sorta reminded him of Steve? That he was scared that he would turn on him to heavy distrust? Like he was terrified of if he didn't meet his expectations then he'd act like it was stepping on glass around him? No. He couldn't say that. He wouldn't.
"I'm not scared of anything from him either," He huffs.
"James."
"What."
She sighs and shakes head a little, writing more as Bucky refuses to talk further on the subject. He felt like shit more than ever now. Just what he wanted to feel. She continues to make a few notes before staring over at him for any sort of input.
He doesn't give any. Doesn't want to.
Not on this.
"How have you been with nightmares? Anything you want to talk about there?"
Bucky shakes head, "Haven't had any since we last spoke," He answers, looking at her so she knew he was telling the truth with it. And it was true. He hadn't had any nightmares since moving— because he hadn't slept any.
Chapter Text
The next few days don't really improve his mood. He doesn't sleep. It was nearing two weeks where he hadn't beyond a couple half naps. He was exhausted and grumpy, brain worse off in a fog each night he tossed and turned in the unfamiliar bed.
He'd tried the floor. Tried the bathtub even.
Nothing.
He couldn't sleep.
The serum has him functioning, but that's about all he's really doing. He goes with John wherever they needed to go, not talking much as they did. It sort of was enough to keep him busy. Keep the fog in his mind from settling on how bad he felt. On how upset he was after the therapy appointment.
He felt like shit. Physically. Mentally. Hell, even emotionally.
Buck felt worse off with not having anything to really do that day. He didn't have anywhere he had to go and neither did John. It was too rainy to really go take a walk, and Bucky didn't know if he actually had the energy for it either. He was exhausted, but knew if he laid down that it would just piss him off more when he couldn't sleep.
John seemed too fidgety to stay still, having been cleaning the apartment most the day. It didn't really need it, but Buck could assume that it was something to keep him busy. Even into late afternoon and night, he had worked on cooking a few things for the week, cleaning the kitchen up after. He had let him chatter like normal, but really wasn't in a talking mood himself, mostly giving hums and glances whenever the blonde was around.
Bucky tries to read some, but really just finds himself staring at the same couple pages to not take in any of the information. He huffs, closing the book and putting it aside to go take a couple dishes to the kitchen.
"Oh, I can get that," John comments while already up.
"I can get it," Bucky grumbles.
The blonde makes a bit of a face at that, raising hands, "Sheesh, okay. I was just offering."
"Surprisingly, I can do some shit on my own," He mutters, passing him to go put both in the dishwasher. He glances over to find the other man lingering near the way into the kitchen, face showing his concerned.
"What," Bucky huffs.
"Are you— alright?"
Buck makes a half noise in almost irritation at the question. He doesn't answer more than that, moving to go try to grab a mug from the cabinet to make himself something warm. Maybe that would get him sleepy. Somewhere between the exhaustion and metal fingers, the cup is fumbled, dropping and shattering on the counter and pieces dropping on the floor.
"Fuck!" The brunette grumbles, watching where bare feet step as he tries to back off.
"Ah shit— don't step around— let me grab the broom—" John parts, immediately going off to the closet.
Bucky runs hands down his face, gritting teeth at himself. He looks over as the blonde comes back, practically yanking the broom away from him to start cleaning up his own mess.
"Hey— easy—" John mutters to him, earning a glare over from the brunette, but he doesn't budge an inch from it.
"Go on. Shoo. Out," He mutters, but the other man doesn't move.
"Did I do something? You're pretty fucking pissy right now," The blonde asks, catching the irritation in his voice even if his expression hides it away to just questioning.
"No," Bucky huffs, "But you can fuck off while I clean up my own fucking mess."
John's expression twists, scoffing and moving off, "Christ, okay, be an asshole today," He grumbles, jaw tight, but clearly making the decision to back off before whatever anger rose.
Bucky huffs, using metal hand to brush the few pieces of mug off the counter before sweeping them all together. He pulls the dustpan off the handle of the broom, bending down to brush it all in to clean up. He moves to dump it, staring down at the shattered mug going into the trash for a long minute before going to put the broom back away.
He comes back to rinse hands in the sink, making sure no tiny pieces had stuck to him, but eyes glance from the sink out to the living room.
John's laid back on the couch, looking at something on his phone, but jaw tight still.
Dammit.
Bucky dries his hands before rubbing them down his face. He forfeits the drink idea, just going in the living room and moving to sit on the edge of the couch and look at the very sweet blonde that he managed to piss off.
"I'm sorry," He says, "I'm mad at myself. It's not fair of me to take it out on you," He huffs, squeezing metal hand in right one.
Blue eyes lift, whatever emotions starting to fizzle out in them, "It's fine," John dismisses with his own huffy breath.
Buck shifts back to sit criss-crossed and face him more, "No. I was an ass. And I broke your cup. I'm sorry."
The blonde exhales heavily, but it isn't quite a huff this time, "I don't care about the mug. I'd prefer to know why you're grumpy as hell though."
Bucky feels sort of a tightness in his throat like he wants to cry. Like he wants to just have a breakdown that was saved away for privacy. He doesn't. Just swallows it down along with whatever guilt was stopping him from actually answering the other man.
"I haven't been able to sleep since we moved in. And I have this— thing— that I'm supposed to tell you about, but I haven't felt ready yet," He gives, looking down at his own hands as he squeezes them together.
John's quiet a moment before he shifts, the weight of his hand coming to Bucky's shoulder to give a firm squeeze.
The stress fizzles, shoulders slumping in heavy guilt for snapping at him. He felt terrible that he kept needing to remind himself that John was going through shit too. They were both adjusting to all of this— and it didn't give him an excuse to be an asshole to him.
"What can I do?" Comes from the other, tightening that guilt up even more. His voice was calm again. Worried again.
His own aggravation was gone, fully replaced by guilt and exhaustion.
Bucky was so tired.
"I don't know," He gives, swallowing that threat of tearing up a second time. Trying to shove it down to keep himself from being entirely vulnerable. He didn't think he could handle that. Not right now.
"I just— I'm supposed to make a list of people that I need to fix things with. Fixing things that happened from Hydra. Even some things after. Things I just— Maybe will feel better about if it's set right," Bucky gives up, squeezing harder on that metal and feeling the panels threatening to cut into skin, "I wish they would trust me to do it alone. But you have to go too. Make sure I don't hurt anyone. Make sure I stay in whatever lines I'm supposed to."
The hand stays firm on his shoulder, John quiet as he listens to him.
"Dr. Raynor thinks it might help me feel better to make amends. That maybe it won't eat at me so bad if I feel like things are right," He says with a slow exhale, refusing to lift eyes up. He didn't want to know how John was looking at him. "I wanted to do it alone. But I know they can't trust me to do that."
John gives a squeeze, not taking hand off him yet, "If it helps, I think it's shit too that they wouldn't trust you. Hard to make things right when you feel bad about it every step of the way," He gives.
The words make him feel a hundred times worse for snapping at the guy. He nods a little.
"Why don't— we wait to talk about this after you've gotten some sleep? We could try sleeping on the couch? See if that does it?" The blonde urges, finally drawing up Bucky's gaze with the 'we' part of it.
"You don't have to join. I did yank a broom out of your hands," Buck frowns, really regretting being a dick while the other man was being sweet again.
Walker gives a shrug, "I get way worse of a temper when I can't sleep than that was— It's okay. Really," He mutters, "And I can sleep practically anywhere. Laying on the couch isn't a big deal."
The brunette dips head again and nods, trying to ease his own guilt off with the words. "Thank you— I'll buy you another mug when you see one you like."
"It's not a big deal."
"Please. I'll feel bad about it if I don't."
John slips hand off him, "Well— next time I see a good one then."
Bucky nods to that, glancing up at him again. The blonde offers him a smile, which Buck tries to give a tiny one in return.
The other man had mentioned a few times now about having a temper, but— he didn't know how much he believed him. Maybe it was more of a free pass towards himself, but John had been really sweet. Purposefully annoying— but sweet. He just needed to remind himself not to let his own issues bleed out to take advantage of that.
"I need to take a shower— but why don't you get ready for bed? It'll be like a sleepover in our own home," John pokes, moving to elbow him as he shifts to start to get up.
Bucky nods to that, watching him go before slipping off to go rinse off and get into softer clothing too. He could only hope that this would get him to sleep. He felt like he couldn't handle it if it was just another night of tossing and turning. He tries to give himself the best chance with doing anything he can think to be comfortable, bringing out pillows and blankets to the couch to dump.
He pulls out the part John had shown him to extend the bottom out to the same length of the chaise part. He lifts the chaise to pull the cushions from in it, squishing them down on the extended part to pat around until it felt comfortable. He had to admit he had been pretty amazed when John had first shown him that. He was sure it would be good for a bed if John ever had a guest come.
Buck just hoped it would let him sleep.
He busies with getting things where he wanted, laying out a couple sheets over the whole thing for the both of them before laying out his own few quilts more on one side. He would share if the other wanted.
When he can't think of anything else to busy himself with, he moves up to lay down, testing how comfortable he could get.
Felt nice.
The brunette moves pillows around to be able to sit up against the back of the couch for now, moving to disconnect metal arm to bend and set it on the floor. He could sleep with it on, but— again, he was trying to give himself the best chance right now.
John moves out of the bedroom with a couple pillows and a blanket, but Bucky can't help eyes flicking down him at the man only being in boxers. He flicks eyes elsewhere to not be caught, cheeks giving a prickle of red, but hopefully the dimmer lights from just lamps were covering it.
"Glad you remembered how the couch worked," The blonde comments, dumping his stuff on the cushions before moving to plug phone in.
"Luckily."
Bucky flicks eyes to the ass visible before looking elsewhere again as John stands back up. He does let them wander back to watch him move around and cut all the lamps off except the one next to himself.
He couldn't deny that he was nice to look at. He wasn't bulked up with muscle, but looked fit. He had that softer look about him like a naturally strong build instead of a forced one. It fit with that pretty face. And nice ass.
"I can put on a movie or something? Or would you rather it be quiet?" The blonde offers as he starts fixing his pillows before plopping down with a grunt.
"A movie is fine. I don't like it quiet," Buck answers, watching over as John shakes out a blanket to put over his own lap.
The other hums, snagging the remote before looking through and ending up on something that he seemed mildly interested in. He turns off the final lamp to get comfortable before looking over to Bucky in the much dimmer light.
"This alright?" He asks.
Buck answers with a soft hum and nod, slowly easing down more into the pillows. He gets his blankets covering himself like he liked, making sure they were out of John's space, but leaving enough out to let him know he could use them if he wanted. He wasn't sure how hot he ran if he only slept in boxers though.
He shifts to where he can watch the movie, quickly finding it harder and harder to keep eyes open the longer it went on. He doesn't fight it much, pretty much crashing as soon as he lets them stay closed longer than a few seconds.
At some point, while it's still dark, he wakes again, feeling movement against him and the weight of another body slumping on him. His brain is too at a fog of sleep to notice more than that and the snoring next to him, putting it together enough that John rolled over in his sleep to be beside him instead.
It isn't enough to pull him out of sleep— and maybe is what helps put him back to it with how warm the other felt. How safe it felt to have someone against him like that. He crashes back into a heavy sleep. Safe. Warm. Sleep.
Chapter Text
Somewhere between the light peeking through the curtains and the hand up under his shirt, Bucky pulls back awake. He can't help a soft noise escaping him at the touch, sort of in a haze on thoughts. It doesn't startle him. Not right away. But he slowly pieces things together to move around a little.
John's breathing goes from sleep to lighter, shifting after Bucky does and arms move around him to trap him more.
Uh.
"John?" Buck mutters, lightly patting his arm to try to wake him up more.
There's a snuggle against him, a squeeze, then a hum— before a different sort of noise as the blonde has to be waking up enough to realize.
"Mn— shit— sorry—" The sleepy voice comes from behind him, the touch retracting immediately, "Forgot— wasn't home," He mutters, voice giving away that he still wasn't really awake to think right.
Bucky gives himself time to let the dark red ease from his face, not wanting to give away how flustered that had gotten him. He fixes his shirt from where the other's hand had been, slowly shifting to sit up and rub own at his face to help wake up.
He glances over to John, watching the blonde blinking heavy and trying to wake up more in his spot among all their blankets. He shoves them down halfway, really revealing chest as he stretches, and Bucky does his best not to stare now that there was better light in the room.
It also gives him time to notice that they had shifted around enough in their sleep to really just be on the same side of the couch, so Buck shifts away to give him more room. He wasn't fully sure which one of them had moved closer first, but— somehow they had ended up snuggled close together.
Oops.
"Did— I have my hand in your shirt?" John mutters through a yawn, seeming to be slowly putting together how they woke. His voice had that deep rumble to it of being still mostly asleep, acting pretty slow on actually making progress in waking up.
"A little, yeah."
"My bad— Guess I thought you were my wife 'r something," The blonde murmurs, stifling another yawn before frowning, "Ex," He corrects.
The expression drops immediately towards upset before John tries to correct it too, rubbing hands down his face to probably hide away as he acts like rubbing his face was helping with pulling out of sleep.
Bucky flicks eyes away before back to the other man, "I'll— make us some breakfast. You look pretty tired still," He says, voice quiet for him.
"'ppreciate it," John mutters, moving to turn on his side away from him and pull the blanket up again.
The brunette wasn't sure if that was to go back to sleep or to try to hide away whatever feelings he had just forced on himself. He doesn't press it, just watching for a couple more seconds before slipping off from the couch and snagging arm to put back on.
He didn't necessarily want to get up yet. Not after sleeping good for the first time in a long time. No nightmares or interruptions. No fighting to make himself rest. He had slept really good, feeling some sort of rested. Even craved to go back to bed in that warm mess of blankets. But. He had seen that sadness. Seen the clear heartbreak that other was likely forcing himself to hide away.
Bucky didn't want to be selfish on this. He wanted to give John the room because he understood that he needed it.
He makes a stop at the bathroom to really give him a moment of privacy, sure he also needed to rinse off whatever drool was in his stubble anyways. He heads into the kitchen after, glancing over where John was, but still finding him in the same spot. He couldn't tell if he was sleeping again or not.
The brunette turns on the kitchen light, but leaves the rest out for now, doing his best not to be too loud in making them some eggs and bacon. He gets the coffee maker going like John had shown him too, knowing the other would appreciate it when he decided to get up.
He glances over every few minutes to try to silently check on the other man, frowning at not seeing him move an inch.
It made him feel really bad about yesterday. John was going through some tough shit too— and Bucky shouldn't be an asshole to him while he did. He understood that feeling— someone they loved so damn much being with someone else. He knew a little over three months wasn't enough time for either of them to get over it. Not really. Just to be at a point where they could keep themselves busy and hide away that ache that remained.
He— needed to try harder for the other man. He needed to make sure that he wouldn't repeat snapping at him like that. That— this apartment stayed that place of peace for them. He was sure they both needed that desperately.
He quietly takes over the food to their new table— that John had bought and put together on his own for them.
"Hey John. You hungry?" He calls, trying to keep voice on the lighter side.
The man looks over, giving away that he likely had been awake this whole time. As much as he tries not to act like it. He nods, moving to sit up and stretch to pop shoulders and back.
"Thanks," He mutters, moving to get up with a second round of stretches and pops.
Bucky nods, making a second trip to the kitchen to carefully get mugs down this time, splitting coffee into them and taking that to the table too. He makes one last run to snag the orange juice and two cups, having picked up that the blonde liked that in the morning.
He puts things mostly on the one side of the table, since the couple times they had sat together at it, neither of them wanted to be on the side where their back was to the door or the windows. That was fine. Maybe sitting together would cheer the other up anyways.
"Sleep okay?" Buck asks as the blonde comes to take a seat, watching him run hand through messy hair.
"Great. You?"
"Yeah, good. Really good," He admits as he takes his own seat, tying hair back in a messy bun to keep it out of the way, "Thank you. That— really helped."
John hums, aiming a tired smile over to him. He picks up coffee to blow on before daring a sip, humming over a thank you between taking a second one.
Buck nods.
The blonde is unusually quiet as they eat, which only draws Bucky's worry more about him. He was slow in the mornings, sure, but never really— quiet. And with caffeine in him now, it was extremely off for the man to not be chattering.
He keeps the silent streak when helping Bucky clean up, slinking off into bedroom afterwards after grabbing pillows off the couch.
It's another hour before he decides to emerge again, dressed and trying to force a smile as Bucky settles on the couch, having put his own stuff away by then. He eyes the blonde, trying to judge how he was doing, but noticing the way he still had a heavy off about his behavior. Whatever depression he was set in was trying to push through after the slip up. After realizing that the person he was beside wasn't his wife and he wasn't home.
It had to be hard on him.
"Hey, um, that list I mentioned last night— I've been using Steve's old notebook for it. I thought— maybe it would help me too, but— would you want to see it?" Bucky asks, wondering if both offering that trust and something of someone that John thought highly about would cheer him up.
The blonde blinks a little before nodding, forced expression replaced by genuine intrigue.
Buck hands it over, having snagged it while in his own room to put the pillows away. He had told himself that he wanted to let John see. To trust him with it like he hadn't felt good about trusting anyone else so far.
John takes it, handling it with way more caution than was really needed, but that was appreciated.
Maybe it wasn't healthy to hold on to the notebook, but it was the only thing he really had of Steve. It was the only thing he had left him beyond a memory and all those heavy emotions. It was the reminder that his best friend had been struggling once too. Struggling in this new life. But able to adjust. Adapt. Live.
It brought mixed feelings, but not any that Bucky felt able to let go yet. The notebook meant a lot to him.
He watches as John flips through it slowly, getting a few huffed laughs at likely understanding some of the lists in there more than Bucky had. Maybe it was somewhat grounding to see that even someone like Captain America was just a man. Just a person like the rest of them. He had enjoyed doodling and making notes about things he was interested in. He had scribbled notes about his loved ones; birthdays, likes, things that they wanted him caught up on.
Steve had been a good man. There was no denying it. Bucky's own hurt could never change that about him. Maybe it was the loss of those loved ones that made him go. All that hurt of Steve's own had pushed him to look to start again. To leave the world broken because he felt too broken to fix it.
Yeah— that notebook meant a lot. And trusting John with it meant a lot too.
Chapter Text
It felt really nice outside. That sort of change in the air from late summer to fall where the leaves were just starting to turn and rustle a little louder in the breeze. It was a bit cooler, but nothing a light coat couldn't fix. Plus a pair of gloves to keep metal arm from trying to actually chill him.
Really, it would've been stupid to not come out to the park, having done a couple laps of a walk before Bucky decided to take a seat at one of the benches. John had parted to go buy a coffee, giving him some alone time in his spot to really enjoy the sounds around him. Sure, there was still the noise of cars and the city close by, but— that was sort of nice too.
Even if he starts to worry about the sound of sirens nearby. If nothing was on fire or there weren't any sounds of guns— then he didn't really think he should be concerned about it. He just had to hope it was a wreck or something minor.
His eyes lift to movement towards him, greeting the blonde with a half smile, though raising eyebrows in questioning as he turns sideways with getting to him.
"Bought you a paper. Shoved it in my hoodie pocket," John tells him.
Bucky snorts, "Are you going to let me read it?" He asks, reaching in to find the folded newspaper to take out, and giving a thanks about it. That was nice of him. Whether he actually let him read or not.
"Depends how long I stay distracted," The blonde teases, taking a seat next to him. He slurps loudly on his coffee, giving away that it probably wouldn't take long before he decided that he rather Bucky pay attention to him instead of the news.
"Coffee shop had some banana bread, bought a few pieces to split," He adds, setting a bag down between them.
"Oh. Thanks," Buck says, moving to open the bag for them so John didn't have to balance his coffee to do it. But also immediately snagging a piece to try. He one-hands the front page of the paper while snacking on it, thinking it was really good. He had to admit he was gaining a major sweet-tooth with stuff the other man would pick out for them.
With John distracted with coffee, snack, and phone; Bucky has time to read some. The front page is about Sam— who he felt a little guilty for not calling recently. Maybe he should at some point. Then again, the guy seemed really busy every time there was news about him. He hadn't taken up the shield so far. But he was taking up the responsibility that came with it. The rift left behind in trying to help put things back together in the world.
He hoped he was doing alright.
Bucky turns through the next two pages, catching up on more disappearances in the area. Plus a pretty large section about the GRC working on the housing issues in the city. He hoped those two things weren't connected, but felt it would be strange to target mostly the homeless population if so.
He turns the next page, glancing over to John as he offers the last piece to him, but moving to just break off half to split it. He shoves the entire half into his mouth when he's sure John is distracted to not catch that, continuing to read through.
Nothing too crazy. For New York.
"I was thinking about something," John starts.
Oh god.
That was the end of his peaceful reading time, wasn't it?
"What." Bucky dares, expecting something dumb to come out of his mouth already. They may have only known each other for a little over two weeks, but Buck already knew how to pick out when John was going to say something genuine and when he was about to bullshit him. That tone of voice and phrasing led him to believe the latter.
"I don't think aliens are real," The blonde says, leaning back oh so casually to look over to him.
Bucky lowers the paper, unfortunately taking the bait to look at the man like he was an absolute idiot. "John. What do you mean."
"I think the 'aliens' were just dudes. Just some weird guys out there," He says, face neutral, but eyes giving that very slight squint to give away he was excited to get the response.
"Uh huh. Right. Explain to me why you think that," Buck says, neatly folding the paper before promptly starting to roll it up for a good hitting shape. Since he was going to kick his ass.
"I just don't think they're real. Why all of a sudden? Thor? Just some guy that likes weather. That big purple guy? Obviously someone let Grimace loose."
"I don't know who that is."
"Uh, the guy you fought. Duh."
Bucky narrows eyes, rolling the paper just a bit tighter so he could get more force behind it for when he beat John to death in the next five seconds.
John opens his mouth to continue before a noise cuts through the normal city ones, rumbling through lowly with the sound of trees cracking. A blur of red goes tumbling past them, snapping both their attention after it to try to see what the hell just crashed onto pavement.
"Kid?!" Buck yelps at putting together that the red was a suit.
John's running for the figure trying to get to his feet before Bucky can even stand, though immediately following after. The blonde grips onto Spider-Man, hand supporting his back as the kid shakes head out with a, "That hurt," wheezed out.
"What the fuck was that? Where did you just come from?" The brunette gets out as he kneels down too, joining in looking over the guy for injuries.
There's a cracking sound of trees before that deep rumbly noise again, turning Bucky's attention towards the direction the kid— Peter, if he remembered right— was flung from. The source of the sounds slams massive head into a tree to wipe webbing off, lizard-like jaw ripping open through it and helping pull away from eyes.
An equally large clawed hand tries scratching at the remaining webs, rumbling out a low noise at it slams around between trees to try to continue getting itself free.
"Oh hey— Mister— Winter Soldier— Guy— And, friend—" Peter gets out, sounding a little dazed before a noise follows as he seems to get his wits about him, "Crap! Right! Big thing!"
The kid scrambles up before eating it on the concrete, scrabbling forwards still to shoot a web at a tree limb to help pull himself back upwards. John makes a noise next to him, drawing Bucky's gaze for a moment to catch the concern as the blonde watches.
Bucky sort of shakes off the shock to look back at the large creature, unsure what the hell it was, but pushing himself off the ground to go running after Spider-Man to try to help. The head of it sort of looked like a salamander, but the rest was more common reptile build. Tufts of dark fur seemed splotched in random places on it, giving a look as though someone stitched together parts.
Then made it all huge.
What the actual fuck!
"Is it after you?!" Bucky tries to call as the kid slings himself for it again.
The creature catches him in its mouth, but Peter webs at its eyes before shooting another back at the ground to pull himself from large jaws. It slams around again, tail swinging hard to crack into the side of trees wildly. Claws tear at its own face, splattering strange colored blood across grass and sidewalk as it rips at the webbing a second time.
"No! I mean— Kinda now! But it doesn't seem very picky!" Peter calls back.
Bucky lands a punch on the thing's head, making it snarl and slam it right back into him, the force tumbling him backwards. Hands quickly grab him to try yanking him upwards, not even having to look to see that it was John.
"The fuck are you doing!" Bucky yelps, "Get clear of here!"
"Uh— Not fucking happening!" John barks right back, helping get him back up.
Stubborn bastard.
"Then— Go help clear people!"
That gets the blonde moving again, hopefully far enough to keep from being eaten as the creature snaps large jaws after the kid instead. He tries to web it a third time, but the thing spins and slams tail at him, launching the guy off sideways again.
Shit!
Bucky bolts back in, grabbing that tail before it could go after him, and using full strength to start pulling it backwards to focus on himself instead. What he doesn't account for is that this fucking thing could turn on a dime, yelping a sound of surprise as it spins and snaps jaws at him. It catches him on the metal arm, slinging him sideways as it crashes into trees.
It thrashes him back and forth like he's just a little bug, even whacking him on the ground a few times as Bucky tries punching it in the snout area. It was like hitting the world's slimiest brick, even if the hits do seem to do something; piss it off more.
The creature lifts head up to try throwing him more into throat, but hands catch to stop it from being able to really get him into mouth. Something attaches to his back before yanking hard backwards, assuming it was webbing as he goes rolling across grass— and at a very heavy threat of throwing up from all the motion.
Ow.
The brunette pushes himself off the ground, seeing Peter trying to web the thing's feet down, but it only slows the creature down for a few seconds at a time. The blood on it's own face doesn't allow webs to stick well with them aimed there next as the thing chases that red suit.
"Shit," Bucky huffs, running full speed back in to barrel himself into the thing's head. It almost knocks the wind out of himself to do, but the giant animal is stumbling sideways with a low sound of pain.
Peter tries to take the chance to start heavily webbing the head to the ground, but the thing starts thrashing, tail snapping trees and claws digging clumps of earth as it shoves itself forwards to keep from being pinned. Jaws open and close after the kid, clamping around part of a tree instead to twist it halfway out of the ground.
Bucky does his best not to get crushed with the flailing, backing off a few steps before the creature lunges after Peter as he attempts webbing it down again. It moved faster than it should at that size, giving way to how much muscle it had to be packing.
The tail swings, catching Bucky in the gut before he can get clear fast enough, back hitting a tree with a choked sound as the wind is definitely knocked out of him this time.
He doubles over, coughing and feeling shooting pain up his middle, only having to assume some ribs had just been snapped. And maybe all his internal organs. Fuck.
Footsteps register in his hearing as someone runs to him, feeling hands gripping on clothes, "Shit— Hey— Hey— Come on just sit a second—" John's voice unsurprisingly comes. Of course he wasn't staying clear of the danger.
Bucky lets him move him to sit, gasping for air until his body lets him take a breath again, sort of registering that John was cupping hands on either sides of his face to try to check his head. He squeezes eyes shut temporarily, letting him do what he needed to do before pulling back out of the hold.
"'m okay— I think—" He gets out, "But I'm going to— kick your ass if you don't get clear—"
John offers a wry smile at that as eyes open back to him, "No way in hell I'm leaving you to get crushed by that thing."
Buck uses his regained ability to breathe to scoff at the man, "Then just— Stay far enough back. Help keep its attention— but don't get close— If it kills you then I'm going to kill your ghost," He grumbles, meaning it. He couldn't take it if he got hurt being too stubborn to get himself to safety.
They just— needed to keep it in the park. Needed to keep it away from civilians long enough to figure out how to at least incapacitate the thing.
John nods to that, "I have sort of an idea— but Spider-Man needs to know it—" He says, moving to help Buck get back to feet.
The adrenaline does its best to hide the pain for now. If it could just— keep it managed until they handled this. He couldn't let the kid just handle it on his own— and John was enough of an idiot to go running in it seemed.
Fuck—
Okay—
"Stay right fucking here— I mean it— I'll tell him to come over to hear it— But you have got to stay right here—" Bucky scolds, not letting John get an answer in before he runs back in to try to help.
Peter's in the middle of trying to run it in circles, traces of broken web and torn up plants leading around the area as he yells towards the big creature. It lunges and snaps jaws, getting a little closer every time as the kid seems at a loss of how to really bring it down. The webs weren't working. Punches just pissed it off. And it was massive.
"Hey! Kid! Go to my blonde idiot over there! He has an idea!" Bucky yells before barreling in to slam at the creature's side this time. It stumbles, rolling sideways into a tree and cracking it in half with the pure weight. He needed to get its attention long enough for Peter to leave. And not lead it to John.
"Okay!"
The creature rolls itself, destroying the same tree as it tries to start twisting towards Bucky. He dodges backwards as jaws go for him, shouldering metal arm into the side of its head to attempt to stun it again. Gross drool and blood hit him as it reels, jumping over the tail as it comes swinging towards him again.
He grabs it by the end of it to yank, anticipating it to twist this time to try to catch him. When it does— he tackles into its head, grabbing onto a patch of fur to be somewhere between the eyes to get above that mouth.
He kicks at one of the eyes as the thing slings him left and right, holding on as tight as he can as it thrashes every which way to attempt slamming him off. The feeling of the eye breaking under his kicks churns his stomach, yelping as the pain sends the thing trying to death-roll him off.
The weight of the head flatly pressing with each roll is not great on his body, knowing he would be very dead if he was any less sturdy. With him still not letting go, the creature thrashes head up and down, already injured ribs hitting against that firm head over and over.
"Fuck!" He hisses out, at least knowing he was doing great at distracting it if nothing else.
It tries clawing up at him again, but unable to reach, so trying to start using the trees to rub head against.
Bucky refuses to let go. Squished or not.
The creature stops squishing him all of a sudden, watching it getting pulled backwards from trees by maybe the tail, and assuming Peter was putting whatever plan into action. Bucky can't help another yelp as the thing lunges sideways to twist around, seeing Peter launching himself backwards.
He shoots webs to try to close its mouth, but the thing thrashes sideways, causing one of them to stick Bucky's leg down to the thing. Well. Uh. Shit.
But it gives chase, going for more trees as Peter continues to keep the thing's attention with webbing. Bucky doesn't dare let go, hoping this plan didn't involve him needing to get off in a hurry as he tugs leg against the strong webs.
"Motherfucker," He grunts, though a noise escaping again as that makes it thrash head instead of following.
Bucky stills himself as the kid launches more webbing and yells a, "Hey! Come on! This way!"
The creature snaps head back upwards, tilting it sideways with one eye missing now. Jaws snap and it rumbles low, running in that serpentine way lizards did after the splotch of red launching himself tree to tree.
There's a sort of circular area of trees with a gazebo in the middle, Peter seeming to go for it and launch himself through the middle of it to give a good lead of space. With the thing far too big to go through, it starts figuring its way around, trailing in a circle as the kid starts thickly webbing a barrier tree to tree.
The circle closes up as the massive animal circles around, continuing to circle when Peter launches up out of view. But it starts to slow. Starts to calm down.
It couldn't see anything moving. The sounds of the city were slightly muffled by trees and webbing. It was the equivalent of putting a blanket over a cage to calm an animal down.
Bucky doesn't dare move, only lightening his grip to not irritate the thing by yanking on fur. The web on his leg was taking the pressure off him to not have to hold on for dear life. It seemed to forget he was there really. Out of sight, out of mind with everything else outside the webs.
Thank god it wasn't too smart.
The creature does another, very slow, circle before starting to lay down. It flops down all at once and makes a low rumble that makes Bucky sort of feel bad for hurting it. The thing was just— being an animal. It shifts a little to be more in a large spot of sun, head turning slightly to lay against the likely warmer pavement.
Buck glances up towards the tree that Peter had hid himself in, sort of making a face and very slowly motioning to his leg. Then flipping the kid off about it.
The eyes of the mask squint at that before he carefully perches himself on a limb and makes a cutting motion.
Bucky shakes head, not having anything on him that could cut.
Peter motions back to stay there, trying to slowly and quietly start crawling backwards on the tree to get to the trunk. Then scooching himself around the trunk out of view.
Great.
The creature lets out a slow breath, the air blowing somewhere between a rotten and medicinal scent. That was— concerning.
What the hell even was this thing?
And how was it almost in the middle of a city?
Had it gotten bigger since the fight started too? It felt bigger. Or maybe that was just because Bucky was stuck to the thing's head.
Ugh.
Sounds from outside the webbing cage pull his attention before the creature lifts head again. There's some sort of yelling, sort of catching John's voice, but also very unfamiliar ones. It comes closer. He can definitely hear John— Angry— Yelling a lot.
The creature slowly stands again, starting to push against the webbing with a leg. Claws start going through.
Something comes over the barrier, tinking off Bucky's hip and for the ground.
A flashbang goes off, making the brunette grab ears with a pained yelp and sliding to be dangling fully by leg in the webbing.
The creature stumbles before more cracks and flashes go off, sending it scrambling the other way to start trying to climb over the webbing. It slings Bucky around, but seems more focused on clawing through the thick barrier before slamming forwards to start scrambling through it.
Gunfire starts and Bucky blocks head, metal tinking off it and pain flaring as a bullet nicks his shoulder.
Peter lands beside him again, starting to tug frantically at the webbing as Bucky dangles to look who the fuck was shooting at them.
Military maybe? Fuck!
John was pinned down to the ground by two of them, thrashing to get free as they temporarily lock eyes. His look of anger turns to panic, head turning to continue barking at the people shooting.
"Kid, go! You're gonna get hurt!" Bucky urges as Peter tries to get him free.
"Suit's bulletproof! You're not!" Spider-Man says, helping block him this time as another barrage comes to hit the creature.
The bullets only seem to be doing surface level damage and the thing starts turning towards the source now that it could probably hear again after the stuns. It bellows, rushing at the soldiers full speed.
There's more of a 'foop' sort of noise that Bucky can put together is launching something, hearing it a second and third noise.
"Kid! Go!" He yelps, though starting to feel that give at his leg.
"No!"
God— What was it with these stubborn people?!
Whatever was shot detonates, confirming Bucky's suspicions of grenades, but way more focused on feeling the creature's head being blow apart. The chunk they're both attached to goes flying downwards to crack them both into the ground.
Viscera sprays every which way as the dead creature slumps directly onto the two. Peter barely manages to catch it with Bucky pinned on his stomach. A choked cough racks out a spray of blood that wasn't entirely his own.
Ew.
Ow.
Fuck.
Bucky moves his leg as the pour of blood frees him from webs, twisting to help the kid hold the extremely heavy body to start squirming their way out from underneath.
"That was really gross—" Peter grunts as they manage their was out.
"Oh— Says the person not drenched in brains right now—" Bucky grumbles, spitting and coughing out his own blood and the creature's. Fuck.
That was fucking nasty.
"Buck!"
Head tilts up to see the blonde had either gotten free or been let go of, watching as he slides down on knees to get hands on him. John yanks hoodie off to help start wiping his face down, eyes squeezing shut as he does.
"I'm alright—" The brunette muffles from the fabric clearing his face. Nothing that he couldn't fix himself. Or lay face down in the shower for a good two hours to whine about until it didn't hurt as badly. Probably a mix of both.
John starts to say something, but Bucky whacks him in the gut. Not hard. But hard enough to get a grunt instead.
"You're so fucking hardheaded by the way," Buck scolds him.
The blonde cracks a smile, letting him take the clothing to wipe at himself instead. If he could clear it enough to not feel absolutely disgusting on the short walk home, then that would be good enough.
"I'm glad you didn't get eaten. Or shot."
"You're one to fucking talk," Bucky snaps back.
John moves to carefully hug him, which gets a noise out of the brunette in surprise more than anything.
Ow.
But.
Oh.
Chapter 8
Notes:
This chapter is an extra one being added to my original plotting and I fully blame MrBuckyWalker for saying the idea of John treating Bucky's wounds. I'm nothing if not a sucker for that sort of thing
Chapter Text
The hot water was making the attempt to ease out some of the pain from the fight, but really that's too heavy of an ask on it. Pain meds weren't exactly in the picture, so it was the best Bucky could hope for in the way of a bit of relief.
He felt like after the fifth scrub down that maybe all the blood and brains were cleaned off himself. He had resigned to just trashing his clothes, triple bagging them before John had volunteered to go sling them in the dumpster.
Whatever was in that blood made his open wounds sting. After rinsing down the first time, concern had skyrocketed at seeing the odd color the open wounds turned from contact to blood, but by the latest scrub off— it was already fading to normal. He could only assume there was some sort of toxicity that the serum had squashed out too fast to really effect him.
Still, it made him feel even grosser about it.
When the water isn't holding heat any longer, Bucky finally decides that he's clean. That the warmth was doing all it was going to against swollen bruises and fractured bones. They would heal up soon enough; same with the open wounds.
He gets out, carefully drying himself with a towel before moving to pull on boxers then pajama pants, and judge if it was worth lifting his arms for a shirt.
No. Not yet.
When the swelling went down in his torso then he would.
He decides against the hairdryer too, toweling it off good enough and brushing through before tying it up out of the way. Sure, it would be a mess later, but— that was a problem for later Bucky. Current Bucky was hurting.
The brunette moves his way over to the door, pulling it open as he rubs face in exhaustion, but jumping as hand falls away to a figure lingering on the edge of his best.
"Goddamn John, why are you in here?" He half yelps.
The blonde sort of jumps too at the sudden reaction, but eyes lower down him to make a face and get to feet. "Jesus Christ, get back in that bathroom. You can not just leave those wounds out in the open air."
Bucky makes a noise of surprised protest, "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Back in there. Sit on the counter and I'll be right there."
"Bossy," The brunette scoffs, though backtracking. He didn't know if he could win out on John's stubborness for this one. He looked— really worried.
Eyes flick to the mirror as he goes over to the counter, maybe twisting to each side to really look at what all was wrong. The gouge on his shoulder from the bullet was the worst of the cuts, but there were a couple rivaling close at his side and right on his chest. He could only assume it was from being slammed into either a tree or maybe rocks— it wasn't like he had done any of that in armor. His middle was bruised to hell, and what he could see of his back was about the same. There were plenty of abrasions on his torso and arm, again, likely from being thrown around. He was just glad the thing hadn't had any teeth in that massive mouth.
At least the discoloration was gone now. He felt like John would be dragging him to the nearest hospital if he had seen that part. He didn't want to let him even think about how the blood had gotten into his wounds.
Bucky didn't want to think about that at all.
He wasn't confident on getting it all out of his prosthetic either.
Maybe he could talk John into going to buy some isopropyl alcohol in mass to really clean out his arm. He could just— leave it in the mop bucket to soak or something for a day.
Blegh.
Buck hops up on the counter as requested after his own assessment, definitely understanding why John had looked at him like that. He could try to argue that he would heal quick, but he doubted the man would give in on this one. Not after he'd looked so concerned since the fight.
Said blonde is coming back in soon enough with a clear container of first-aid supplies, putting them on the counter next to Bucky.
"Is it even worth trying to argue you should go to urgent care?" John asks.
Bucky blows a raspberry and gives a thumbs down.
"Thought so," The blonde mutters, accompanied by an eye roll.
The other man dips in closer to start getting a better look at the wounds, really seeming concerned about the one from the bullet. Probably because it had taken a good sized slice of him.
"Can't believe they shot at you," John mutters, popping the lid on the box to start digging a few things out.
"I can't believe you were still there after I told you to get out of danger," Bucky fusses yet again. He didn't have it out of his system at all yet.
John narrows eyes slightly before promptly spraying his wound with the anti-septic. The brunette garbles a sound at the heavy sting, curling fist to bump a few times against the counter in pain.
Shutting up now.
Yep.
The blonde has to spray through it again, actually pulling a whine and pout out of Bucky with the sting.
"You need something to bite down on?" John muses.
"Gonna bite down on your fucking arm if you keep spraying me with that," Buck hisses out.
John sprays the cut on his chest with it.
Blue eyes snap up to darker blues, narrowing at each other in challenge, but Buck ultimately backs down with the amount of pain he was in. The spray didn't hurt that much in comparison— it just stung. And John was being sassy about it.
The blonde continues the torture to the last large cut, but not needing to use as much to draw the sting out at least. He moves to put the bottle down— thank god— and open a package of butterfly bandages. Buck was just glad he wouldn't have to go through stitches, knowing it wasn't worth it in the long run with how fast he would heal.
"Turn a little for me?"
Bucky huffs at him, but shifts sideways, carefully hooking leg up on the counter to give him the full view of his shoulder.
John washes hands first before moving on close, hand careful in placing each bandage and pulling the wound where it would close with the other side of it. He's gentle— but very clear in having done this before. Many times probably. The way his fingers work to hold skin, eyes focused solely on what he was doing.
He switches to gauze after, placing it and bandaging it down carefully to keep the wound sterile as he could. It was far more care than Bucky had been planning to give himself.
Then again— John didn't know his body the same way. Didn't know that the serum fought off infections easily. Closed up wounds and faded bruises. The other man only knew that he was hurt— and it was clear that he was too worried to let him go without care.
With being on that side already, the blonde gives the same treatment to his side wound, giving a silent hand on Bucky's back to ask him to lean a little forwards.
It hurts to, but he does without complaint. He closes eyes for the moment, exhaling slow as John works on him.
Takes care of him.
He hadn't had that a lot.
Bucky appreciated it— minus the spray.
"Okay— forwards?" The other asks when he's done.
Buck shifts himself, spreading legs more to give him room to get close for the chest one. He knew he would have to get in close with the spot. Even expected, it does end up reddening cheeks as the man takes the room to get that clear angle on the wound.
The brunette tilts head to the side to keep chin out of the way, flicking eyes to John as he leans to start bandaging the split skin. He can feel the end range of each exhale tickle along skin with each steady breath. It sort of felt nice against the pain. Something gentle and focused.
He finds himself slightly disappointed when he finishes the area, but in no way lets himself show it. He barely lets himself think it.
"I think the rest will heal up by morning," Buck urges gently.
"Are you sure? I have the bandages," John tries.
"It'd be a waste," He replies with a shake of head. What he had done already was more than enough.
"Alright," The blonde frowns, not seeming convinced, but backing off to let Bucky have this one. He offers a hand out to help Bucky slip off the counter, still wearing that look of concern as a couple pained grunts escape with the movement.
"I think you should come lay on the couch with some ice. Those bruises look rough."
"Are you giving me a choice?"
John cracks a smile at that one, "No. Probably not."
Buck pouts a little, but nods. Fine. It might help un-flatten his guts or something. Or bring down the swelling quicker. One of those.
He follows John out, stealing a couple glances down at his ass while the man was taking the lead. It was only fair to help him feel better quicker. He continues getting that view as the man bends to adjusts around pillows, but looking elsewhere entirely when he starts to stand upright to turn towards him.
"Sit."
"You're so bossy."
"Get used to it, Barnes."
That gets Bucky looking to him with another squint, but letting it go to take the spot made and trying his best to start getting comfortable. The drop off from all the adrenaline a couple hours before left him tired, knowing he would crash for a nap at least.
John brings over his next torture device of a couple ice packs and a bag of frozen blueberries to act as a flatter one. He hands them over to let Bucky decide what needed it, going ahead and putting one on that shoulder wound before laying enough to put the other two on his gut.
Ow.
Without a word, the other man moves into his own room, bringing back a blanket to put over him, then plopping down on the couch next to him.
"You need anything?"
"No— just— rest."
"Alright— but— say if that changes," The blonde urges, moving to get comfortable and giving the clear signs that he was going to stay out there with him.
If it made him feel better.
Bucky had to admit he had likely scared John with the fight and— the being shot at. He wanted to keep giving him shit for not leaving like he told him, but another part knew that just wasn't in the other's DNA. The only time he had left was to clear the couple civilians in the area— so he really shouldn't be surprised that the same concern had been aimed at him when John came back.
He was just— so good. His heart was in the right place.
He guessed it was a waste of time and energy to fuss at him about wanting to help. It was just— it worried him too to think he could get hurt. Something in him was undeniably attached to this man— and what that was or why was still alluding himself.
Either way, he could admit that they cared about each other already. Maybe they had from day one really. But it was there.
Chapter Text
It had been a week since the incident in the park. Enough time to pass for his body to heal properly. Enough time to pass for any leads on where the creature came from to be a big dead end. Enough time to give Bucky the stress to add it to the list of things he was worrying about.
The creature. The list. Nightmares.
Worry.
He had slept the day of the incident, but not again since then. And he hadn't been brave enough to admit it to John. He didn't want to let himself rely on him so heavily. Something about it just— scared him.
Maybe it was just a spiral down of thoughts since realizing he cared about John. That he cared what happened to him if he was involved around Bucky. That John caring about him made him so fucking scared. He didn't know if he could handle it if— they started tackling the amends and John just— lost trust in him.
If he saw the bad. Saw that Bucky wasn't what he used to be in the 40s.
Like Steve.
Fuck.
Then there were the actual amends. How to even begin. Who to even begin with. He could only think of Tony Stark and how upset he had been. How everything had crumbled away so fast to guilt and anger.
Would it be like that with everyone else?
At least— the ones that he hurt—
The ones that had been close to Hydra weren't the issue. He might feel good about fixing that. But it was the ones that weren't. The ones that he had killed a loved one or— done something for Hydra that had fucked up their life.
The things that really kept him up at night.
The things he hated himself for.
He did. He couldn't deny it.
And the way he felt when he never got to actually fix things with Stark? That empty feeling of wishing that he had just— pushed to reach out. Pushed to make that amend.
He knew he had to fix things or it would eat him alive.
Bucky just— wished that didn't include John.
He wished that he could wallow in his grief alone. To do this alone. But— when did anything ever go the way he wanted? When was a blow ever cushioned?
It was a spiral. He knew it was. But not one he could stop. Not one that would allow him to sleep until he was absolutely exhausted, and leaving that promise that it would not be a restful one.
The exhaustion was close. Each round of silent pacing in the living room brought it closer. Each time he tried to sit on the couch before feeling like his body was on fire with guilt and agitation to get him back to feet— It got closer.
He'd tried to lay in bed. Tried to sleep. But nothing. It just left him to his thoughts and that feeling like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin and slip into a nothingness. The couch had been his next go-to, but— it wasn't helping either.
And he didn't want to wake up the other man to have to ask if he would lay down with him.
He couldn't let himself.
He felt bad enough about spilling it last time after snapping at him. That his own issues had bled out and been met with just— softness. Care.
Bucky didn't feel like he could ask for that again.
No.
He couldn't ask for more help.
The exhaustion creeps.
Closes in.
The brunette moves to lay down on the floor with a pillow. He puts himself beside the couch, curling up as tight as his body would allow and letting the give in his body push him into restless sleep.
It doesn't come as a surprise when a nightmare takes him into its choking grasp. A memory. More guilt.
His body feels hot. Skin uncomfortable. Chest tight. Head pounding.
Squirming.
Gasping.
Hands on him.
Bucky kicks, scrambling off sideways against the floor.
There's a groan and panted breath.
He realizes he's awake. That his foot had connected to skin. He had kicked at someone trying to wake him up.
Oh fuck.
"John?" He pants, eyes glancing in the dark as the world comes back to him. As the grip of the dream leaves to the worse grip of reality.
"Yeah— just— need a minute—" The other man wheezes out; eyes slowly realizing the lump on the floor was the source of the voice.
Bucky scrambles to him, "Oh fuck— did I hit you?"
"Little bit— Christ—" John grunts, holding his stomach with arms as he stays down on his side, "Just— give me a second—"
"I'm sorry—"
"No— you're fine— Fuck—"
Bucky doesn't know what to do exactly. Doesn't know if he should try to help or to leave hands off him. Whatever guilt following from the nightmare merges with the extreme guilt he felt for kicking him— and leaves him with a sludge in his chest.
The brunette only parts to click on a lamp, coming back as John starts trying to move.
The spot was red, promising a nasty bruise in the next few hours. Fuck. He moves right back to the man's side, guilt likely visible in features as he apologizes again, "I'm sorry— I didn't know I woke up—"
"It's fine—" John waves, shifting to the side of the couch to sit up against and hold arms at the spot.
"What can I do to help?" Buck tries, feeling antsy and wired all over again.
"Ah— fuck— uh— I was going to get some water— if you could get that and the ibuprofen—" The blonde answers, pain leaking into his voice.
There's no hesitation in giving to the request, going to get him a cold water and the medicine bottle from a cabinet. He snags a pack of crackers too, knowing the last thing John needed was for the meds to cramp his stomach on top of the pain.
"Is it like— hospital bad? I don't know how hard I kicked you.."
"No— no— Just— I'll be fine," The man waves away a second time, taking the few things with a thanks and letting go of his stomach. He better be telling the truth.
Bucky watches, feeling absolutely horrible about it, "I'm really sorry."
"Bucky, it's okay. It was my choice to try to wake you up. You were just— It seemed bad."
The brunette slumps more, shrugging a little, and not wanting to talk about that. He just— felt bad. It was like— his worries were just closing in harder. That he felt worse than ever and he didn't know how to make that go away.
John sips on water before staring at him for a long few moments, "Have you been sleeping?"
Buck lowers head before shaking it.
The man exhales quietly, placing the cold bottle against his abdomen, "Well— Let's lay on the couch again, okay? That worked last time."
The words push in the guilt more. Why the fuck was he still being so sweet to him? But he nods. It wouldn't be fair to make him worry. It wouldn't help anybody to deny himself the chance to possibly sleep while feeling safe enough to not fall into restlessness. Maybe it would keep him from dreaming.
Plus, he could practically feel the worry radiating off the other man— It wouldn't be right to just make them both a mess of concern.
Fuck.
A hand comes to his shoulder, squeezing firm and pulling him from the spiral to bring eyes up. John offers a gentle smile and Bucky almost breaks.
"I'm sorry," He murmurs again.
"It's okay. Come on, I'd like to lay down now."
Buck nods, pulling out of the hold to offer both hands out to help the other man get up. He makes him sit on the couch after to go bring out pillows and blankets, dumping them to let the other decide what he wanted first. He only climbs up to make himself a spot after, that burning feeling numbing off with the other being there this time.
It made him want to punch himself.
Why did he need him like that?
Were his own abandonment issues this bad?
He pops prosthetic off to lay on the floor before clicking the lamp off and laying down. He looks over to the other in the dark, eyes slowly readjusting to see the man look back over to him. He can also see him still holding the cold of the water bottle to where he had kicked him.
"You know you could've just asked me to sleep out here again. I didn't mind," John murmurs.
"Next time," Buck tries to promise. He doesn't know if he can hold himself to it, but— if it would avoid a repeat of this— then maybe he would have to give. Have to just admit that— alone wasn't good for him.
"You better. Or I'll have to start busting in your room at night," The blonde teases, reaching over enough to jab a finger at him.
"You'll regret it," He snorts, trying to let himself lighten up a little. He grabs the hand to push it back over to John's side of the couch, lingering in letting go longer than he really should. He was sure it could be written off as him making sure he wasn't going to reach over again. Not that— he wanted to touch him back for once.
"I don't think I could walk in on anything worse than I already have in the army," The other snorts.
Buck huffs a quiet laugh, not wanting to know. "Stop talking. Go to bed, John," He urges.
There's a grunt as the other shifts around. Bucky turns over away from him, knowing he risked the thought of staring over at him if he didn't. Of letting the guilt consume him again. He— didn't want to risk it.
It takes a long while for John's breathing to dip down to steady snores, but it assures Bucky that he didn't hurt him too bad. He doesn't let himself go back into those thoughts. He couldn't. He just— focuses on listening to John's breathing. The steady sounds of it. The feeling of safety it brought to have him there.
He sleeps too.
Chapter 10
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Therapy had been hard that day. Hard to bring the list. Hard to admit about the nightmare. And hardest to admit that it had led to him hitting John a couple days earlier. Raynor appreciated that he had opened up that much, but— Bucky's own mood hadn't.
The guilt was numbed. But. It was still there.
Still eating.
It was worse that John hadn't been able to go with him. That the kick had ended up making him schedule a doctor's appointment when the pain stayed around— and the only appointment avaliable put him unable to drive him.
It made everything feel worse.
Bucky had thought maybe walking home would make him feel better, but all it does is leave him in his own mind for longer. He doesn't stop anywhere. Doesn't let himself be distracted. It was part of the deal with John not taking him— that he had to go straight home to not violate anything.
Really, he knew it was likely John and Dr. Raynor's insistence that had allowed him to go to and from therapy alone at all. He wouldn't dare betray that.
He sends a text to John when he leaves, but where he goes is left to his therapist to keep her as the one to deal with the trouble of reporting when he was home. She always got onto him about talking more, so— this was his tiny payback; texting her with a picture at every new street he got to.
He's sure she's relieved when he says he's at the apartment along with a picture of proof before heading on inside. He goes up the stairs and digs out his key to use for the first time since getting it. He hadn't been alone to need to until now. He tries to be sort of quiet in case John was back and resting.
Though that leads to catching the man off guard as he sits on the couch, tears streaming down his face with a surprised look over to him.
The tears scare Bucky. He shuts the door, locking it and immediately hurrying over, "What's wrong?" He asks, brain at a wild whirl of maybe something was really wrong with his stomach.
John sniffles, quickly rubbing face and trying to clean himself up, "N— Nothing—" He tries, using shirt to wipe away the streaks still threatening to come.
Buck sits down next to him, unable to let it go with John crying. "Is something hurt? Did— Was something else wrong?" He asks, refusing to let him get out of this without telling him.
"No— Nothing like— that— Stomach is just deep bruising—" The blonde tries to dismiss, rubbing at face again before whatever it is twists his expression again to sniffle, "Um— I— I should just go in my room—"
The man goes to grab what was likely his phone next to him before trying to stand, but Bucky catches his arm. Eyes snap back down to him, tears slipping out before the man slowly just eases back down in the spot with the brunette refusing to let go. He would not let him deal with something alone after all he had done for him.
John rubs at face again, but ends up leaning forwards to just shove face into both hands and try to breathe.
He fails.
Bucky hesitates before putting a hand on his back, lightly rubbing between shoulders in an attempt to comfort him. He lets him cry, holding in more questions with knowing the answers would come with it out of his system. He just needed to stay there for him. To let him take that insanely hard step to be vulnerable.
It gives him time to look at him. To really look. To notice that he had stopped shaving. To notice his hair wasn't that neat military way like before. That he wasn't put together as neat as when he was first here.
That something was pushing at the seams.
The time the other needs is given, knowing the answer was coming as the man lowers hands away with a rough sniffle. "Um—" He tries, voice wavering hard, "Olivia— my— um— ex wife— She uh— She's pregnant— And I'm happy for her— but,"
The expression crumples.
Oh. That was— oh.
Bucky shifts a little closer, rubbing fuller circles on his back, "No, that's— I'm sorry— That's rough," He gives quietly, unsure what else to really say.
Yikes.
That was— really rough.
"I feel like a selfish asshole— crying about it—"
"John— You're allowed to cry. I mean— it's been four months— that's not a lot of time to process all of this—"
It wasn't. Not with how much John seemed to love her still. He saw how his face dropped every time he made that tiny slip up of calling her his wife. The way his heart broke mentioning her at all. It had to be extremely difficult to know that she was having a kid and he wasn't the one with her. The one not there after all the commitment because of a situation so far out of his hands from the Blip.
The other gives a pitiful look, sniffling harder, but trying to wipe at eyes again. Bucky could understand that part too— the shame to just cry. To let emotions bubble over to be vulnerable while someone was there.
Bucky moves to hug him, to gently cup his head to bring against his shoulder and let him know that it was okay to be that way. That he needed this if he was ever going to get past it.
Arms slip around him, feeling the light grip on his shirt as the other slumps into him, quietly sniffling into his shoulder. He rubs hand on his back, trying to match to a slow pace to give him something to focus on outside the hurt.
Heartbreak fucking sucked. Depression fucking sucked. Life fucking sucked.
But they had to keep going in it.
He holds John gently, wanting to repay all the kindness he had shown to him. To let him be reassured in what had to be an open wound of vulnerability. It wasn't crazy to think it was harder by both being men— especially ones raised the way they were. It was just— important to let him know he could cry. That it was okay to hurt right now.
The other takes that. Weight slumping into Bucky as he keeps face hidden into his shoulder. Stays that way as he sniffles and hiccups breaths. As he works through whatever thoughts needed working through.
It takes slow progress to ease down. To get back to a place where John starts to pull out of the hold. Where reddened eyes and wet cheeks can come out of hiding to rub at them both.
"You want to be alone? I can go in my room?" Bucky asks softly.
John shakes his head, "No— I don't want that at all—" He admits, watery eyes flicking to him before lowering back down. The upset was less, but still present in that look.
"How about— you pick out some movies to show me? And— we order Chinese for dinner?" Buck tries, brain sort of scrambling for how to make the man feel better.
A stray sniffle comes, but the blonde nods to the suggestions, "Would it be in bad taste to watch some stuff with monsters?" He tries to joke.
The brunette cracks a tiny smile at that, "The only bad taste is the memory of lizard brains in my mouth," He says.
John gives a small smile back, but eyes look so so tired. He still looked really fucking upset.
Buck watches him for a long moment before gently grabbing his wrist to urge him to follow, leading for the kitchen. He motions him to stay put near the sink, snagging a cold water to hand over before moving to wet a dish rag with cool water from the sink. He lets John sip at the bottle a few times before bringing the rag up to lightly wipe his cheeks.
He lifts metal hand to press to his forehead, knowing how the cold would feel nice after crying since he did the same. He holds it there, wiping gently at eyes, cheeks, then finally nose to help clean him up.
It would feel better.
Pitiful eyes look at him again, flicking his own to watch John set the water down before he moves in to just lay head back on Bucky's shoulder. He exhales slow, moving metal hand to the back of his neck to let the cold rest there instead.
"I'm sorry it's been hard for you right now," He says softly, feeling bad all this shit was happening to such a sweet guy. He hoped it would get easier with time. It had to— for both of them— All this couldn't hurt forever.
They just— They had to get through it. They could get through it.
Notes:
And now Bucky has enabled John to Never Leave Him Be again
Chapter 11
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Eyes flick over towards the door as it opens, watching John come back in from his jog. Attention lingers after him, enjoying the view of the tight shirt sticking against torso. He lowers them back down to his book, already trying to get to a good stopping place with expecting the other to start messing with him.
"Getting a little cold out there," The blonde comments as he empties the couple things from pockets onto the table.
"Yeah? They working on fixing the park still?" Buck replies, dog-earing the page for now to glance up.
"What? You can't hear it from here?" John muses, but nodding, "Looked like they got the last of the damaged trees out."
The brunette snorts, but hadn't really paid much mind to the noises off across the street. It just sort of fell away into the rest of the sounds of the city. Loud and busy. "Sure they won't try replacing all of that until spring. Snow might break new trees before they get a chance," He comments.
His gaze trails as John moves to plop on the floor to start stretching, hoping the run had helped clear out some of those lingering upset emotions. He was sure it would help him get out that extra energy too with how wound up the man could get if they were trapped inside all day. He didn't know how much of that was adjusting to civilian life and how much of it was just how John was.
John hums a reply between quiet grunts as he stretches, so Bucky looks back down to his book while he had the chance.
It might would be good to join the other on a run every now and then, but— well, Buck took his chances to be lazy. He knew it wouldn't last very long with the way his life always went, so getting a little bit of peace was taken over the pent up energy in his body. The creature showing up in the park was proof enough of that.
He manages two more pages before the other man finishes up and moves to sit on the couch to promptly lean his sweaty self into Bucky's side.
"Ew— get off me—" The brunette grunts, quickly marking his page again.
"What? Something the matter, Barnes?" John muses, already giving that look of challenge when he was about to start picking a fight with him.
Buck shoots a fake glare back, trying to scoot away from him for the opposite side of the couch and turn to be able to enjoy his book without a mean, sweaty man on him. He isn't surprised when said man follows him over, taking up that space immediately again.
"Would you go away," He dryly groans, giving a half elbow to push at him.
"No."
"You stink. Get off."
John only leans into him more before making a quick movement to snatch the book out of his hand, scrambling for the other side of the couch as Bucky makes an offended noise. He gives chase immediately as the other tries to hold it out of reach, half clambering up onto the blonde to try to reach.
"And who's the one on me now?" John teases, grunting a little at being climbed.
"Give me that you big bitch!" Bucky fake growls, shoving knee into his side as he leans more onto him after it.
The blonde grins, holding it as far as he could while holding a hand against Bucky's chest to keep him from getting any closer to it. "Say please and I might give it back," He muses.
That only makes it worse, dipping down to clamp teeth down on the arm trying to keep him back and not caring if it was sweaty or not. John yelps at that, twisting to get his arm away before promptly chucking the book across the room as Buck tries to use the opening to scramble over him for it.
"Hey!" Bucky growls, starting to try to get up to go after it, but arms catch his middle instead to twist and squish him facedown into the couch. He muffles more noises, bucking backwards to try to get the weight off of him.
Apparently the man had not gotten all his energy out if he was trying to fucking wrestle with him.
John half lays on him before trying to grab at Bucky's arms, managing to get a wrist as the brunette bucks up again then twisting himself before the man could catch the prosthetic one. He half pushes back against the hold before using weight to shoulder the other off the couch completely.
The blonde lands with a grunt and Bucky scrambles down after to slam weight on top of him. Then squirms to straddle and try to pin him instead. John twists them, whacking Bucky down against the ground and using body weight to pin him as they grapple hands with each other. He squishes up between Bucky's legs more as the brunette tries to knee him in each side, pushing full weight against their hands.
Really— Bucky could overpower him easily— but— what fun was that?
He does put a little more strength into pushing back against John's hands, getting him back enough to wrap legs around easily and slam him sideways to straddle his stomach a second time. He shoves hand up against his chin to force head to the side and half smacking him right in the tit with metal hand before grabbing at his nipple through the shirt.
"Hey!" John yelps, smacking hand away from his chest.
Hands grip onto Bucky's hips as the other tries to buck upwards, lifting the brunette enough to twist them both sideways again.
Buck gives a growl as John pounces with the opening, sitting on his ass to grip up hands behind his back, "Get off me you fucking bitch," He squirms, pulling hands at the grip. He could yank them out of the hold, but—
He plants knees into the floor to shove backwards instead, toppling them both to slam John into the side of the couch. He scrambles forwards with hands free before launching self to grab the man to pin him against the piece of furniture as he straddles his lap.
A loud banging comes from their door and makes both jump and stop immediately, "Would you two shut the fuck up! I'm trying to work downstairs!"
A guilty look is exchanged between them. Right. Oops.
"Sorry!" Bucky yells.
"Our bad!" John follows up.
They hear the stomping away from the door before Bucky gives a, "My name's Jerry. You can't wrestle but my dog is going to bark at every siren," In a mocking voice.
John bubbles a laugh.
Buck scrunches nose a little and looks at the man before sort of realizing how close he was sitting up on him. He blinks and cheeks warm slightly at John seeming to realize that, a hint of a blush springing on cheeks too.
He clears throat, punching the blonde in the middle of the chest lightly before getting off him and going to retrieve his book. "Dumbass. Throwing my shit around," He grumbles, but not actually caring. He was a little more distracted by other thoughts.
"I panicked," John teases, grunting as he gets off the floor.
"You did not. You need to add another mile to your run if you're going to try picking a fight when you get back," He complains dramatically, purposefully stomping on the floor as he walks back over just to be petty for their downstairs neighbor.
"You're going to get us in trouble," The blonde muses.
"Um— excuse me, Walker, who was the one that started it?" He reminds, whacking him in the head with the book as the other sits down. He ignores the offended look to instead lean to put it on the side table.
"You. Obviously."
Bucky narrows eyes at him, but refuses to give in to him again. He just huffs and moves to stand up, "I'm going to take a shower since some nasty man just had to put their sweat on me," He jabs. He wouldn't give him the opening to keep it up. Nope.
And it totally wasn't to get out of the room because he was extremely horny. And worried that his body would start showing that.
Nope.
Not that at all.
"Who'd do that?" John muses, but grunting over from the couch as he presumably stands too, "Since I would never do something so mean, I'll get dinner going in the oven before showering too. Not that I'm sweaty or anything."
"Uh huh. Keep fooling yourself," Buck grumbles, pulling the door shut to his bedroom as he goes.
Fuck.
He huffs, moving to grab clothes before going in the bathroom to start the shower up. He would try not to be too long for John's sake, but— it was also his fault in more ways than one that he was needing to hide away to take one.
It would give him a little time to sort out why he was having the reaction of playing around going straight to his groin. He had to settle on that answer being somewhere between not really having close contact with someone else since Steve— and that he found John very attractive. As much as he was rude.
Maybe that added to it?
Dammit.
It's a bit of a relief when John's already in the bathroom after Bucky comes back to take a spot on the couch. It gave him a little more time to act normal after having to take care of those hormones in the shower.
Fuck— maybe he needed to look into ordering a sex toy or two— not really satisfied by a breathy jack off. He just needed to figure out if he could do it without the other man knowing. They might both die on the spot if that sort of embarrassment happened.
It was something to think about for later when John went to bed and Bucky had the late hours to need to distract himself from another spiral.
He moves to click on the TV instead of reading, really just needing some noise to really distract him from the different kind of thoughts. Yep. Just. Finding a hockey game. And. Yep, very interesting.
Totally not thinking lewd things about John still.
Nope.
Notes:
Unfortunately for everyone involved. They're dumbasses 😔😔
Chapter Text
John takes the lead down the stairs, giving Bucky full access to watch his ass as he goes. His favorite view every day really. Though darting steps ahead as they get to the bottom to hold the door open for the other first this time, amused with the offended look that earns.
"What? You have stuff in your hands," Bucky points out, earning a squint of eyes before John lets it go to go on out first.
He pops the door to the truck unlocked with key in hand, but heading off a different way with his bundle of tin foil, and Bucky goes on and follows with wanting to also check on the old man the other had been bringing food to. They had seen the guy in the park a few times before the creature half destroyed it, which led him to coming to take shelter between the two buildings instead.
It was clear after their first interaction that the man was homeless. He wouldn't accept much help, and said he didn't want to go to a shelter, but he would accept John bringing him food.
So he did.
The man's face lights up as he spots the two, moving to slowly get to feet out from under the blanket they had forced him into taking. John had argued that he couldn't bring food out to him if he froze to death at night.
"Hey, no, you don't have to get up," John reassures quickly, taking a few quicker steps to close the distance between before the old timer could limp towards them instead.
"Well you don't have to walk all this way," George replies in that crackly voice, taking a couple steps anyways.
"He does this to me too. Unfortunately, he's too stubborn to argue with," Bucky pokes, slipping hands into sweater pockets to shield them from the chill in the air. They had already agreed on getting the man a thick coat when temperatures got worse— and framing it as one they couldn't wear anymore so he would take it.
"Suppose we all know a blonde like that," The old man teases.
"Always is the blondes, isn't it?" Bucky agrees.
John looks between them with a pout as he offers the food over, "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" He asks, playing up the offense.
George gives a laugh, muffling a cough before nodding in thanks for the food, "I appreciate it. Makes my day better seeing the two of you," He says.
"Always good to see you too," John says, backing off to return to Bucky's side as the brunette nods in agreement. He bumps into his side, making him sway lightly as the two exchange a brief glance to each other.
"Hope you keep seeing me. Been a lot of people I know going missing," George comments, starting to limp back to his spot to take a seat again.
"Around here?" Bucky asks, exchanging a much more concerned look to John at that. The papers hadn't been reporting it as much, but it was worrying that it was still going on. He had sort of assumed it had something to do with the giant lizard— but— maybe not.
"In the area," The old man nods.
"You seen anything? Or know anyone that has?" John asks, voice carrying the same concern that Bucky felt.
"No, not a thing," He coughs again, pulling the tin foil open to take a bite of food while it was still nice and warm.
"Well— if anything ever comes around— or manages to scare you, even if I'm sure that'd be hard," Bucky starts, offering a brief smile, "You come yelling to our building. Break in the front door if you have to, I'll pay for a replacement. Even if it's night— I'm usually awake if John's not."
He meant that. He didn't want to consider something happening right under their noses.
"If it's serious enough, then you'll hear me from a block away," The man promises, though Buck sort of doubted he could really get his voice up there. It had that wheezed sound of age and maybe years of lung issues.
But— Bucky had good hearing from the serum.
"We'll come running. Promise," John adds on, fully on board with that. Not that there was any doubt the man would.
George nods with a mouthful of food.
Buck knew that this was a two-way street of benefit since John enjoyed cooking. Especially if he was able to feed someone else. And— he was a good cook on top of it. "We'll leave you to eat. But we're going by the store, you need anything?"
The man shakes his head, clearing throat to stifle another cough, "This is more than enough. Thank you."
The two give their goodbyes before parting to walk back to the truck, exchanging a silent look of concern, but waiting for the privacy of the vehicle to start a conversation. It really worried him that people were still going missing— and that it was in their area on top of that.
John gets the truck started up and the heat turned on as Bucky buckles in, "You think it has to do with that lizard thing? Maybe there's more of them?" He asks.
The brunette settles in his spot, thinking on it for a long moment before shrugging, "Hard to say. Even if we're talking opportunity for an animal— it wouldn't just be the homeless population. There's too many people in the city for that," He comments. It hadn't seemed intelligent enough for that, but— maybe something else was.
"Think a person then?"
"I would lean more towards that."
"Yeah— yeah, that would make more sense," John mutters after a moment of consideration. "Hard to say if it would be more than one if they're preying on that sort of vulnerable population."
Bucky nods to that, knowing there was no telling for sure unless they could find out something more. "Maybe— if you're up for it— We could start taking a walk at night. Could dissuade them if there's two people out then," He suggests.
"That's fine with me," John agrees without a beat.
Buck nods to that. Maybe it could help him sleep better too. Keep him from using those late hours to fall into too many thoughts. John was a little more keen now to looking for signs when to urge them for a night on the couch— but— it was still something Bucky didn't want to talk about openly.
He uses the car ride to check phone for a good idea of the week, knowing he wouldn't have therapy until the next one at least. They don't have too much other than that so far besides probably putting the furniture together that the first stop would be to pick up. He doubted it would be today with John having just swept the floors.
There was plenty of space in the living room for a few shelves and a set of cabinets for maybe their blankets. Bucky had been trying to get into reading again— as much as John distracted him— but it was something to feel normal to do. So shelves would be nice to put them on. Plus— they could start grabbing more movies with John insisting that he needed to see more.
It was a good opening to start attempts to move on in life. To find something new to focus on.
Buck slips phone back away when they pull in the parking lot, glad it wasn't too far to get stuck in much traffic. He decides to go in with John this time, even if it's hard leaving the warmth of the car to do so. He just wanted to make sure no one was moving heavy shit around when he could be the one lifting it in their pick-up order. Even if he doubted the blonde would let him do much of the carrying.
"Sheesh, they already have the Christmas stuff out?" John mutters as they go inside, the front of the store pretty decked out with trees and holiday decor, "It's barely November."
"This normal?" Bucky asks.
"Unfortunately," The blonde snorts, "Think they go earlier every year. Kind of makes it hard to feel like December is anything special nowadays."
"Yeah? Guess I wouldn't really know. 'm old and my family was Jewish," He comments with a huffed laugh.
"No shit? Well— the old part, yeah, but," John says, earning him an elbow jabbed into his side for it.
Bucky points at some decoration with the word 'Naughty' on it, "That's you. All the time."
"Hey!"
John pouts and Bucky smiles right back.
The blonde leans body to bump into him before taking the lead for the pick-up area, messing on phone to likely pull up the order number. There were a few people in line in front of them, leaving the two to sort of glance around at whatever was close enough to look at.
Nothing really interesting.
"Oh shit— Speaking of holidays, I had something important I completely forgot to bring up," John says, turning more towards Bucky at that.
Buck glances to him, knowing by the tone and body language that he wasn't about to bullshit him, so he actually pays attention.
"I already talked about it with my superiors— and they gave me two options on this— but I wanted to go stay in Georgia from Thanksgiving to a little after Christmas to be able to see Lemar and his family. Then visit some of mine for the holidays. And— I had wanted to buy Olivia something for the baby while I was there," John tells him, getting a little pink on cheeks at that last one, "I was cleared to, but— either you come with me or they have a temporary replacement for the time."
Oh uh.
Okay.
Bucky hums to give himself time to take that information in and think on it, sort of at a divide on what he wanted. John seems fine giving him time to think, not saying more beyond a, "I'm alright either way."
He weighs a few things before making his decision, "I should probably stay here," He answers. The main thing was not wanting to intrude. He felt like John needed the time to be with other people, not wanting to be forced into his more personal life too far. Plus, there was the whole issue of they would have to come back each time Bucky had a therapy appointment. It would be best for John's sake if he stayed back and just dealt with a temporary replacement for a month.
And maybe he could admit to himself that he was too shy to go meet all those people.
"Okay— I'll tell you more when I know better too," John promises.
Buck gives a nod, at least glad that John could go see Lemar with how badly he acted like he missed him. He couldn't help but be a little worried about the seeing his ex part, but— maybe that would help the man deal with those loose threads. To really help himself through the hurt. He hoped so.
"I'll be back before New Years Eve for sure. If there's one thing the South loves, it's fireworks. They make me jittery— so I plan to be back in the city before then," John comments.
"Okay. Just— let me know when you know so I can write it down," Bucky says, feeling a tighter pull in his chest of anxiety at thinking about the other man being gone for pretty much a whole month. He doesn't let it show, not wanting to admit to either of them that he knew he would miss him.
"I should find some more stuff to read if I'm actually going to have someone around that will let me," He pokes instead, narrowing eyes over at the blonde.
John cracks a grin, "Uh, I'm going to call you every chance I get just to get on your nerves if that's the case," He teases.
"I'll turn off my phone the whole time."
The blonde elbows him for that, pulling a small smile from lips as he sways from it. Someone moves past them, John shifting on closer out of the way and Bucky snorts as he lingers there. He isn't surprised when the blonde rests a hand on his back, feeling him patting the spot as he takes the chance to mess with him.
Though— maybe it was something else too— that silent realization between them that Bucky was already feeling. Sure, they had around three weeks before John would leave, but— that time apart already felt hard. It shouldn't. It had never occurred to him that something like that would be difficult. But.
Yeah.
He could already feel that— he was going to miss him.
Chapter Text
"That's not the right screw," John says, handing it back.
"The fuck you mean? You said G and I pulled it from the G bag," Bucky scoffs, taking it back to hold up the bag.
"No, you took it out of the C bag," The blonde counters.
"You're a fucking C bag," He snaps, digging out another screw that looked pretty fucking identical to what he had just tried giving him.
"Stop being pissy because you can't read letters, old man," John mutters, taking it to work the screw into the piece of furniture. The one that they had been arguing the entire time on putting together.
Bucky holds up the C and the G bag, trying to compare what the fuck the difference was, but thinking it looked like the same damn thing. Maybe a tiny bit longer. Why did it matter! It was a screw!
"Can you find me the back panel or is that hard too?" John asks, raising eyebrows with a look towards him.
Oh he was going to kill him. They would never find his stupid body. He shifts the boards around before offering over the piece and watching John balance to shelf as he slides the panel in a groove.
The two shelves had been only half infuriating, but this fucking small cabinet was driving him up a wall. The instructions sucked. Half the pieces didn't have the sticker to say what was what. And John was being a bitch.
"Hold this," Said bitch tells him and Buck gives a huffy noise as he comes over to do so.
He keeps it steady while John moves to find the other side piece to close up the square of boards, having to sort of compare pieces when it's another one without the right markings. He comes back, picking up the bag of screws and making the act of showing Bucky the letter G with a motion as he pulls out what he needed.
He was going to fucking strangle him.
Bucky lets go when he has it before both of them groan when the back panel flops out with not having been in good enough.
"Fuck it— Where's the super glue—" John grumbles, getting up to go find the bottle to bring back. He flips the piece of shit furniture over and glues the panel instead of trying to unscrew stuff a second time.
Good enough.
"Hey, go figure out the cabinet door pieces with that hardware," The blonde points, motioning to some metal pieces that Bucky had no fucking idea what they really were.
"You could say please."
"I won't."
"Ass."
Buck goes anyways, looking between the tiny instructions and the pieces to know what was what. They at least just had the stupid doors to put on— then securing the two pieces to the third open shelf that they had already fussed to get together. He rips open the packaging to try to suss out how the fuck it went, turning it every which way before looking over to John and just pouting.
"That too hard for you?" The blonde fake coddles.
"Listen here, Walker," Bucky snaps in warning.
The other smirks in his victory, looking back down to shift the piece aside to let the glue dry before coming over to help. He picks up one of the metal pieces, pulling it to hinge open with a dramatic motion underneath it before making an equally dramatic motion to show him how it was supposed to go.
"Oh keep it up," The brunette growls.
"Or what? You don't scare me, Barnes," John snorts, moving sideways to grab the new package of screws to use.
Oh he was going to bite the shit out of him if he kept it up. Or start eating the drywall. Stupid blonde bitch. Asshole. Stupid furniture. Maybe he would bite a hole through it instead.
He watches the excessively motioned demonstration on how to put the hinge part onto the door before moving away again to let Bucky deal with it. He grumbles and gets to working on it as John carefully moves the two cabinets over so they could put the doors on. He moves in to get the last one before Bucky can, unknowingly risking getting in that biting distance.
He contains himself this once because he wanted to get this over with.
"You're going to have to hold these for me. Think you can do that?" John muses towards him, picking up the first cabinet door to line up.
"If you're ready for me to gnaw your kneecaps off," Bucky growls, scooting over to hold it in place for him.
The blonde snorts, not taking the threat seriously even if he should with how much he kept poking. He gets the door secured on before they move to the next three doors to get screwed in place.
John reads the instructions on how to attach it to the bottom piece, huffing quietly and moving to lift each in place to secure it without asking for Bucky's help this time.
Good.
Bucky uses the time to start cleaning up the mess of plastic and styrofoam back into the box, balling up the instructions to chuck right at John's ass to pathetically bounce off.
"Hey, quit it back there," John calls over a shoulder.
"Bite me," Buck snaps, sitting up on couch and crossing arms. He watches him finish up, refusing to offer help in moving it to the right spot against the wall after all the sass he had put him through. Nope. That was the end of helping him.
John brushes tiny pieces of packaging off himself after before coming to sit next to him on the couch. "Well. That was pretty easy, huh? Think I could've done it myself."
The brunette snaps head his way with a flood of murderous intent, launching onto the blonde to wrestle him onto his back against the couch. He snags a pillow to shove over his face to smother that big fucking mouth into silence, holding it there as the blonde muffles words and tries shoving him away.
Bucky straddles him, slamming weight down to keep him held in place and fighting to keep the pillow over his face as John gives muffled cusses and laughs.
Hands find his wrists to start pushing back against him, somewhat letting him to not actually cut off any breathing. As much as he deserved it. He shifts a little to push back against the hold as John turns head to bump the pillow off his face.
"Get your ass off me," The blonde gets out.
"No. You're getting your ass beat," Bucky growls, knocking the pillow off the couch fully to be able to grapple with him better. He shifts again to try to push John's arms down to not let him get free, feeling him squirming around to try to get away.
John grunts, trying to continue pushing back before giving a buck up against him and making them both sort of freeze up at the friction of the feeling.
The blondes face goes red, creeping down his neck and up ears. Bucky's own face warms at sort of having accidentally settled on the man's groin— and it was giving interest by the feel through both of their pajama pants.
Bucky lets go of his hands and John tries to squirm, but really only shoves up against him harder with the flustered attempt, "Uh— Shit—" The blonde babbles out.
The brunette stares down a moment before something in his brain fires to make the move, holding John's shoulders firmer against the couch with a press down of hips equally firm. The man sputters a noise, but eyes lock to find pupils darker with the pleasure of it.
That's enough to get Buck dipping down and going for lips, feeling arms grapple him down close for the kiss immediately.
It's a mess of aggressive kisses and hips humping down against the other on the couch before they wordlessly move to Bucky's bed. He busies the other man's mouth with lips and tongue to keep him from talking while opening himself up with the need to fuck down on him after all the shit he'd been giving him for hours.
He replaces his mouth with hand to cover John's mouth, still refusing to let him say a damn word when he finally sinks down on the other's cock.
Hands find their place on Bucky's hips, more holding on than trying to make him move in any sort of way as he works out the frustrations he had with him. His own hand feels the warm breath of moans each time he bottoms out, the blonde twitching hips up every time to try to shove himself fully inside.
It's not surprising that John's noisy. Of course he would be. But it only encourages the rough rut to ride him.
There's not much thought into it.
That had been out the window since making out on the couch.
And that seemed mutual by the way those blue eyes threatened to flutter with each slap of skin to skin. The way each hot moan muffled against his hand comes low and long, in the heat of heavy pleasure.
His own breaths roll out, feeling hot against almost raw lips, and slipping low groans every time his body gets hit in a spot just a little more sensitive than the rest. He doesn't focus too hard on that yet, not wanting this to end too soon. Not wanting to face whatever would come after yet. Just wanting to live in the moment of what felt good.
And, fuck, did the other man feel good in him.
The stretch was good. Nothing insane, thank god— but really damn nice. He was a damn good size to not get overstimulated on too quick, very happy to be able to let himself draw this out. To give John what he deserved for pissing him off.
Bucky dips head in heavy pleasure, swallowing down the drool threatening to bead out as he presses down fully to hold that pressure for them both. To torture both of them as long as he could stand it. He groans as John bucks hips eagerly, trying to cram all of himself up into the tightness.
"Fuck—" The brunette breathes, unable to help a squirm back and forth of hips a few times.
He feels a hot, "Please," begged against his hand, and that's all he really needs to start up a harder pace than before. He finally takes hand off John's mouth to be able to grab hands off his hips and pin him, changing the angle in a way his own body shivers instantly from.
Oh fuck.
The moans come louder from the other man, knowing even without the muffle of before that they were far more desperate now. The way he feels John's hips squirm and press to meet his own body. The way muscles under him twitch and shudder.
His own eyes flutter shut, bubbled noises becoming more frequent as he really focuses on that feeling. Really enjoys how John sounds and the way his body reacts to himself.
The climax hits him hard, almost going limp against the other, but refusing to let himself to push the other man there too, and getting the reward when John does. The way his breaths and moans fall into curses gasped between each sound, hips shifting with Bucky's own pace to find relief before trying to press fully into him when it comes.
They pant.
Shiver.
Slip bodies away from each other with the mess left behind.
Then come back to hold close.
Panted kisses leave off to a tired quiet, neither of them daring to say a word. Daring to acknowledge it.
The hold stays tight as John absolutely conks out, leaving Bucky a little amused at wearing him out like that. But also left very trapped against him. It was his own bed— but— he had wanted to slip out and not acknowledge this. Maybe it was his punishment for crossing that line first— even if they were both guilty of staying far over it. Now he just had to be alone with his thoughts until he fell asleep. He could only hope that being worn out and held would let him crash before it became unbearable.
Chapter 14
Notes:
Tiny note of I do mention temperature once in this one and mean it in Fahrenheit (and will if I mention it anywhere else in the story). Unfortunately am american
But 40F is 4.4C (from looking it up)
Chapter Text
Things had been— both different and the same.
Both of them were avoiding talking about what had happened a few days before. Had avoided it since sleeping in the same bed immediately after. Maybe it was a fear of admitting they shouldn't of done that with the situation they were in.
But another part felt like a growing tension. Like trying to figure out what each other thought. If it was a one off or if the act had broken some dam that had been slowly cracking since they met.
John touched and messed with him just as much as normal, but there was a bit more of a measured look in his expression every time he did. Some sort of internal conflict that Bucky couldn't quite pick out. He wasn't nearly as rough with him now when playing around either— not that he had even been too much— but— he grabbed at him lighter. Bumped him around more gentle.
Acted softer.
But not said a word about sleeping together.
Bucky hadn't dared to press it either.
Part of him felt like it had been a spur of the moment thing. The other felt like it had been bound to happen. Both parts were scared of the consequences. Scared that if he brought it up and acknowledged it that John would— reject him. Leave.
His mind was well made up that if they were going to talk about it that John would have to be the one to bring it up. Otherwise, he was fine with it all going unsaid.
That does feel easier said than done as they walk in silence. Way harder after John offered his arm for Bucky to take and stay close in the cold of the night.
It wasn't freezing or anything.
But the consequences of a metal arm caught him every now and then; leading to a chilly outing to make him shiver even with a coat and gloves.
John had brought him close with the offered hold, not a word being given up as he shares his body warmth to bring those chills back to a tolerable range. It shouldn't feel different than how it was when he sat up against his side, or flopped across his legs on the couch when Bucky wasn't giving in to paying attention to him.
It does.
It felt really different.
Neither of them mention it.
Just walked along on their started routine of taking a lap around the outside area of the park and down a few blocks where people might not notice if someone stole a person off the street.
Buck had to admit he liked walking out at night. The city wasn't silent, never was, but it was quieter. Sure, there was more danger, but— it wasn't like either of them felt unsafe. Bucky was a super soldier and John was probably the only normal person qualified for actually handling said super soldier. If Buck wasn't enhanced, he knew damn sure which one of them would actually have the upper hand with a fight.
Even enhanced, he found that he felt better with John with him.
Felt better huddled up against the man.
It made him feel safe.
He made him feel safe.
Which made him feel even more anxious about him leaving at the end of the month for so long. He really doubted he would hit it off like this with any one else.
It makes him huddle just a little closer.
"Think I need to get a scarf," Buck mutters, trying to dig his nose down into his coat, but the fabric not staying up enough to help him.
"I got a couple if you wanna use one. Sort of stocked up on winter clothes since I don't do well in the cold," John comments back, squeezing Bucky's arm harder against his side.
Buck tries to take the warmth, "Mh, might take you up on it for now," He replies, giving up on his attempts to warm his nose. Well, until he gets the idea to shove face against John's shoulder instead to aggressively snuggle face into said warmth.
John huffs a laugh, dramatically swaying sideway without pulling away from him. "We can head back early," The blonde snorts.
"No, it's fine," Bucky muffles, enjoying the heat and the way his coat smelled; like him.
"I doubt that."
"I said it's fine, not I'm fine. Unless you're cold."
"Of course I'm cold, but that's besides the point," John comments in amusement.
Buck takes his face off, pouting a tiny bit, "I guess let's head back. I don't think a couple blocks are going to make much of a difference for a night," He gives. As much as he doesn't want to. But he also doesn't want to risk getting John sick by being stubborn to stay out in forty degree weather.
They loop a way earlier in the route to start heading back, having a bit of a distance from home, but it was at least a decently straight shot there. Bucky just stays close to him, taking in John's body warmth and offering back his own— which was probably nice being a couple degrees higher because of the serum.
Both stay mostly quiet until they cross over to use the sidewalk of the park, "Hey— Um—" John starts.
The brunette offers a look his way, feeling by that tone exactly what was coming. "Yeah?" He asks, voice hitting softer than he really meant for it to.
"The other night," John hesitates.
"Mhm?"
"I— uh—"
There's enough light to see his face reddening far darker than the cold had already done. He looks away before back towards Bucky, sort of seeming to tussle with himself over saying what he wanted out loud.
The pace pauses as John stops to really look more towards him, "I don't regret— the sex— but I guess I just— This is really complicated," He gets out with a nervous laugh.
"Yeah," Bucky agrees softly, getting a tiny boost of relief at that laugh. The way it makes the situation feel lighter immediately that John was just really embarrassed over any sort of upset.
"I just—" John starts before sort of making a face as he looks somewhere past Bucky, frowning heavily with a, "What the fuck is that?"
The brunette lets go to turn and see what he was looking at, head tilting slightly at something very small and fuzzy sort of hop-flying around between two trees. "Is that a bat maybe?" He says, completely sidelining their conversation as he starts moving for it.
Something about it didn't look quite right. Was it hurt?
"Does New York have bats?" John asks, voice moving along behind him to give that he was following it too.
"Um— I think so? I thought bats hibernate though?"
The little ball of fur gets to the side of a tree, starting to try to climb up the side, but dropping off back into the grass. It looked like it was shaking pretty violently too.
There's a small click as John turns on a flashlight before both of them make a noise at the little creature looking back at them. That was not a bat. The face was almost reptilian from scales and the shape— though the nose had more of that end pudge of a bat. The misshapen wings angled to grip the ground had little clawed feet with the rest of it sort of a puffball of brown fur to hide away any other features.
"What the fuck is that," John breathes before the tiny creature starts fluttering off away from them.
It didn't seem like those wings were able to fly, or at least not more than a couple flaps between spots where it lands to take back off.
"I— don't know—" Bucky huffs, giving chase.
The little fuzzball continues to try to get away, flapping and tumbling off every time Bucky could get in grabbing range. He can only close in when it seems to tire too much to keep going, seeing tiny, frantic plumes of breath coming from it in the cold air.
He carefully moves to get it into hands, feeling how bad it was shaking, and giving a, "Uh," before moving to put it in his jacket pocket. He gently starts rubbing on the settling lump, trying to help offer some sort of warmth.
"Did you just—" John doesn't even have to finish.
"What! It was shivering!" Bucky complains.
"Are you taking it back with us?"
"Yes!"
John makes a face at that, huffing as he stares at him, "What if it's dangerous?"
"I dunno! Just— look up a pet store! We'll find something to safely put it in!" Buck argues, not feeling right leaving something that cold out there. Especially because they didn't know what it was. What if it had something to do with the weird shit happening in the area?
The blonde scoffs, but pulling out phone to look up if there was a store around and huffing a little with a, "Well, if we hustle, we can make it before the nearest one closes," He points.
"Then come on, lead the way, Walker," Bucky motions with a tiny huff.
They swap between fast walk and a jog to navigate towards the store, Bucky already feeling like an absolute dick for them making it five minutes before the store closes. They would— try to be quick.
The lump in his pocket wasn't shivering any more by then, really only moving to shift around every time he had jostled it with running. He didn't have a fucking clue what it was or how safe it was to handle— but it was little and had been cold. He didn't have it in him to let anything just freeze to death like that, whether it was weird or not.
"Hey, I'm about to close up," The worker calls from the front as they come in.
"I know— we're really fucking sorry— but we found an animal and need something to put it in. We'll try to be quick," Bucky apologizes, grabbing John's arm this time to tug him along.
"You found an animal? Like— what?" The guy asks.
"Uh— It's little— I dunno, rat sized?"
"Like a— gerbil or something?"
John snorts, "Kind of actually," He muses and Bucky elbows him.
The guy comes meandering after them as they try to figure out which aisle had what they were looking for, "You don't know what it is?" He asks.
"No."
"Not a clue."
"Are you— sure you shouldn't call animal control instead?"
Bucky sort of huffs, glancing to John before turning more towards the guy trailing them. He looked maybe early 20s? And very concerned about what they were talking about.
Fuck it.
He carefully digs hand into his pocket, cupping the little lump and feeling as tiny feet grip onto his glove while lifting it out. It stays calm this time as he pulls the creature from his pocket, yawning wide with tiny, pointy teeth as Bucky shows the person. "Keep it between us, yeah? We just need something until I can figure out if it won't be killed to report it," He tries.
The man stares at it, flicking eyes up to the two of them every few seconds before continuing to just gawk and process the sight. "Uh—"
"Yeah, we don't know either," John sighs, looking over to the brunette with a heavy amount of judgment. Though couldn't be judging him too hard if he was going along with it. Bucky was sure John of all people was in the same place of being way too soft to be able to leave it be.
Sucker.
"Thought you were going to show me a deformed rat," The man mutters before taking a step closer to really get a look at it, "You just found this?"
"Yeah."
"And you want to put it in a container?"
"For now," Bucky answers, doing his best not to pout with two people judging him.
The man just sort of shakes head, "Well okay— Uh— I guess— Maybe you want a terrarium? Coconut fiber is usually the safest bet for that type of feet?"
"Do you sell those?" The brunette asks and getting a nod back.
"Any idea what it— eats?"
The two exchange looks before shaking their head, "No clue. We just found it in a park," John comments.
The worker shrugs a bit, "Want to figure it out? I'll— lock the door. Grab some stuff to try."
"You sure?" Bucky asks.
"I'm getting minimum wage. This is like the highlight of my year," The guy snorts, parting ways.
Okay. Well. At least he wasn't running and screaming. So Bucky carefully pockets the little creature again to look to John.
"Not usually the way I get out of uncomfortable conversations," John half pokes.
"You're around me. Get used to weird shit," Buck huffs softly. He couldn't say whether that conversation would be picked back up or not with the new worry. Things were never normal.
"Go on up front to see about the food. I'll find what he said," John gives.
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
Their gazes linger for way longer than normal, blues locked with blues with some unspoken tension building. It might've ended in something intimate if they were in literally in other situation, but they part ways to deal with what was going on.
Chapter Text
Bucky reaches into the tank to carefully put the bowl of sliced bananas in before kneeling down to watch as the little creature pulls out of its nap to crawl on over to start eating. He takes note that it really preferred that side of the tank with the heating pad underneath, wondering how it would like one of those heat lamps lizards and tiny birds had.
It was docile. Slept a lot. Liked when one of them would stick their hand in and pet it on the head with a finger. As much as John denied that he did that.
The only food they had gotten it to eat was fruits— and Bucky felt safer with just trying to stick with softer ones to not have it get choked.
"We should name it," Bucky comments.
"No, then you'll really keep it," John protests from the couch.
"I mean, it hasn't been any trouble! Why not?" Buck argues right back.
"We don't know anything about it!"
"Uh, yeah-huh. It likes fruit, sleeping, throwing the coconut dirt around at night, and goes 'eee eee eee' when you tap on the glass to piss it off," The brunette reasons.
"I don't piss it off."
"Yes you do. You make it do that mean face."
"Mean face?"
"Yeah."
A glance back is enough to see John trying very hard not to crack a smile as he scrolls on his phone. Uh huh. He knew exactly what Bucky was talking about. And Bucky knew that John wanted to keep it too, as much as he was giving him shit not to. If the man really didn't want Bucky doing this, then he would've told a superior or someone similar to get it hauled off to a lab.
He knew he wouldn't.
Buck reaches a hand in the tank to rub a finger lightly on the fuzzball's back, amused when it aims a mouth-open look backwards before seeing his hand to stop. He didn't think it saw very well— but those big ears had to be able to hear good. Probably why it got mad when John tapped on the glass. To piss it off.
He moves off to go wash hands of banana goo and the fiber substrate before going over to sit on the couch to read. They had already done their walk for the night and the 'baby' was now fed. So it was his time of the evening to attempt to read with John maybe worn out enough not to bug him.
The TV was on low with John ignoring it for his phone, but the noise doesn't really bother Bucky. It was more a nice buffer to not hear anything and everything going on out in the city during the late hours.
It's almost a surprise when John lets him get more than a couple pages in, though eyes do flick over in distraction every time the man shifts around, growing more amused by the tick up in frequency as the time passes.
"What's wrong over there, squirmy?" Buck comments.
"Horny as all get-out," John mutters.
Eyes shoot up to him, catching the expression that really gives away the blonde did not mean to say that out loud. But it has Bucky dog-earing the page to lower book and look at the quickly reddening man in interest.
"I— uh— That wasn't meant to leave my mouth," Walker comments, giving a bit of an embarrassed laugh as he looks off elsewhere.
They still hadn't properly talked about it.
Bucky raises eyebrows slightly at him, watching for a long moment before speaking as John dares a look back over to him, "Well— What are you wanting to do about that?" An almost purr slipping into voice as he says it.
John gives a heavily flustered noise back to him before pushing out a laugh and running hand through hair. "I— uh— I—" He stumbles before pouting a little.
Cute.
The book is put aside and Bucky turns body more towards him, putting legs up on the couch and sitting in a way to spread them. To invite him. Because fuck if those words were all it took to get Bucky insanely horny over him all over again.
John takes the obvious hint. The phone is forgotten to the side as the blonde crawls over to take both the offer and space between Bucky's legs. He hooks them up around the blonde, wanting to see how badly he wanted back in him as he tugs the man down to kiss.
The kisses and nipping starts at lips, but find their way down to Bucky's neck as he tilts chin up to enjoy the feeling. He runs fingers through soft hair, enjoying the warmth of his mouth as John's dry humping turns more to a desperate attempt of pressing erection right at Bucky's ass.
"You go get the lube from my drawer and I'll let you press me down against this couch and fuck me," Buck breathes, his own cock feeling very trapped and wet in his boxers right about then.
He can't help a laugh at the man half going scrambling to go get it, moving to get up to pull the couch out to full length to make this more comfortable. And making himself more comfortable by stripping out of clothes before he sits back down to wait.
John comes back, faltering in place to make the very clear look down at him being naked, which gets Bucky to laugh again, earning a pout out of the very riled up blonde.
"Going to come back over or just stare?"
"Hey— Just give me a minute here," John teases, even if his voice dips breathy and excited.
God, he was cute.
Bucky snorts and turns over on his stomach to face off elsewhere and let the man look as long as he wanted. Though it seems that movement gets him scrambling back up on the couch, the brunette yelping as teeth dig into a butt cheek.
"Hey—!"
"Payback," John mutters when he finally decides to let go.
Fair.
Still rude.
Kisses press to the spot before moving up his back, the blonde only pulling back when he can't seem to contain himself much longer.
Slicked fingers are quick when working him open, spreading and curling in ways that make Bucky squirm down against the couch. He pulls over a pillow to grip at, groaning as John takes thorough care in getting him loose enough for himself.
"Is that— good enough?" The blonde asks when Bucky's nearly a puddle from just his fingers. The genuine way the question comes almost makes the brunette laugh, but he holds it in— having to assume that he was the first man he had done this for.— Bucky had done all the work the first time.
"Yeah. You've tortured me enough," Buck breathes, unable to help a rock of hips to urge some sort of stimulation to not go crazy.
"Didn't want to hurt you," He says, hearing that pout in his voice.
Fuck he was cute. And sweet. And Bucky needed him to fuck him.
Hips are pulled up enough to curl knees under himself, unable to help a needy groan at feeling the other man test up against that loosened ring of muscle before pushing inside.
John moans, voice cracking a little as he eagerly rolls hips to get every inch of himself inside. "Oh fuck— Been thinking about how warm you were for days—" He breathes out, jerking hips hard against him to take up any space left.
Bucky tightens around him for that, loving when it earns a sort of choked noise. "Love to be shown how much you wanted that," He breathes, trying to keep himself still to enjoy the other's eagerness.
That comes quick enough, John bracing hands on either side of him as he gives in to a hard pace that has them both panting and groaning. That has Bucky clawing against the couch and begging for harder, and John giving in without pause. To even pay attention if the drips of moisture on his back were sweat or drool as the blonde finds every spot and angle that almost sends Bucky up the wall.
Names come breathy and desperate, and the position switches to pull Bucky onto his lap to be able to get lost in kisses and the taste of each other's tongue as they rut out everything left unsaid.
To leave them panting with sweaty foreheads together after both get lost in heavy climaxes, lips swollen and raw from bites and the desperate need to get a good taste.
Bucky rests arms around John's neck, staying firmly seated on his cock. Not ready to let go of that full feeling, nor ready to let go of his mess. And maybe, just maybe, a little too sore to want to move quite yet.
The blue eyes that meet his own are full of that same hazy satisfaction that he felt, fingers moving to brush gently through blonde hair. He was so fucking pretty— especially like this. He can't help but steal another kiss, hand moving down to rub at the back of John's neck, and relaxing as thumbs rub against the spot hands were gripped on his sides.
"We're going to be in so much trouble if anyone finds out," The blonde breathes, giving a half laugh, but also sounding pretty damn worn out.
"No one needs to know," Buck muses softly, "And— worth it if they somehow did."
"Yeah," John breathes, "Yeah."
It's a heavy confirmation that this was going to continue. That whatever line they had crossed couldn't be uncrossed. It was a pull. A need. They needed each other.
Chapter Text
"You— mn— all packed?" Bucky pants out.
"Mhm," John hums, head dipping.
"'nd— fuck— gonna text me— ah— when you make it?"
"Gonna answer?"
"Maybe."
John almost slips himself out fully, "Yes?"
"Yes." Cocky bastard. He liked it.
Both moans at the full push back in, Bucky's body shivering from near overstimulation at that point. He thunks head back, focusing on the feeling in him and the way John's hand grips and strokes at his held thigh.
"Answer when I call tonight?" The blonde manages out, panting heavily after at continuing the slower snap of hips this go at it.
"Do I get a choice?" Buck breathes, shuddering and curling toes at John hitting that overly sensitive spot again. "Fuck—"
"No," John replies in a huffy laugh, taking the cue of where to fuck him.
Sure, Bucky had been the one to pounce— three times now?— since last night, really trying to work it out of his system before the man left in the next hour. But— he felt like a puddle by then, and appreciating that John was choosing to be more gentle with the control being handed over fully.
The brunette's body replies to the angle with small jerks and bubbled noises, shivering with how easily each thrust moves in him with the messes made already. He knew the way his foot was hooked and John's grip on said leg was the only reason that he wasn't completely limp on the bed.
And, fuck, was he enjoying it.
It doesn't take much more than that to have an orgasm hitting in a way that makes him feel like his brain does a hard reset, unsure what the fuck comes out of his mouth, or if it's anything more than garbled noises.
Whatever it is gets the blonde to laugh soft and breathy.
To move hands to pull both thighs up in a way to let him bend enough to kiss him. Fingers make their attempt to grip at blonde hair through the haze in his brain, keeping the other close as ruts faster to chase whatever high he was feeling.
"That's it— Be a good boy and fuck yourself in me. Mn— Make yourself feel as good— ah— as you made me," Bucky pants, doing his best to help, even if his body felt like the consistency of Jello.
The praise seems to go a long way, which Buck was quickly learning was the case even outside sex, but really enjoying the way it drives John to desperation. The way whatever switch flips instantly to do exactly what Bucky asks. It's cute how quick it pulls the other into his own climax, hands gripping as weight slumps more on him.
"Such a good boy," Buck breathes, having to thunk his own head back again to even begin to recover. Shaky fingers run through blonde hair, feeling the light moisture of sweat clinging.
A soft whine escapes his own throat at the very messy pull out before grunting as the position shifts for John to be able to fully lay weight onto him. His own chest lifts and falls as the other's cheek rests on him, feeling the roll of pants against skin.
"Meant to take a shower an hour ago," John mutters against him.
"Yeah? Something stop you?" Bucky muses.
"Something like that," The other snorts, turning head to kiss against Bucky's chest before trailing on up to have the brunette glancing to him to let him find his lips.
Buck hums a soft laugh into the kisses, feeling almost grounded again from that rush with the weight of John's body against him. He wished he could stay that way longer— but he knew he needed to get ready to leave.
"Need to go wash up and get dressed," John sighs, that same reluctance both in his voice and face.
Bucky steals one last kiss before giving a gentle shove at the man's sweaty chest, "Go get ready. Don't need to miss your flight," He reassures. He knew even this was sort of that last desperate attempt to get it out of both of their systems before he left for the month.
The blonde gives another hesitant look before dipping down to nuzzle nose against Bucky's, causing a bit of a noise out of him at the behavior. He huffs a soft laugh as John can't help but kiss him one last time before moving on away from him, eyes following to at least get a good look at all the marks he had left on the man.
He had been very careful not to leave any that would show outside of clothes— but everywhere that included was fair game. He felt like he had done a great job at marking him up, enjoying that view until John slips back out of the room to go actually get ready to head out.
As much as he wasn't a fan of parting immediately after sex— John needed to be at the airport on time. He could keep himself from being too pouty about it.
Bucky stays put until he hears the pipes quiet back down, needing that time to recover to where he could think clearly again. He's pretty sore as he moves to stand, face reddening at feeling the mess running down his thighs— hurrying up to go take his own shower and remedy feeling so messy. He tries to be quick about it, not wanting to miss John leaving.
The man's pulling his suitcase out into the living room by the time Bucky moves out for the couch, relieved to catch him in time.
"Guess I should head out in a minute," John comments with a glance over, walking over to the counter to grab the rest of his things to shove into pockets before backtracking for his coat on the table.
"Okay. Be safe driving," Buck says, eyes trailing him around with a growing pit of his own anxiety. He didn't want him to go. But he didn't want to keep him any longer than already. And he wouldn't dare do anything that would make him feel guilty for leaving.
"I'll be safe. Can't say about anyone else," The man pokes, getting coat zipped up and pulling gloves on.
"Good point," The brunette snorts, blues staying on the other until his catch the look.
A silent look is exchanged before John speaks up again, "You sure you don't want to go? I mean— I can get a later flight or something."
The words sort of pull at his heart in a way that Bucky can't— and maybe doesn't want to— understand. He didn't want to be apart. But he shakes his head, "No, I want you to enjoy your time back home. See your family. Try to behave yourself."
"Well I won't do that last one."
"Oh right, you don't know how."
John grins, but there's something about his eyes that holds the same hesitance. "You better answer your phone when I call you."
"I might," Bucky pokes, watching as the blonde moves over to the tank to promptly tap on the glass and make tiny teeth be flashed up at him.
"You keep him in line," John tells the little creature, reaching in to pet it on the head with a finger as a goodbye.
Uh huh. Didn't want to keep it. Sure.
Buck gets to feet as the blonde starts rounding back to him, grunting at the very tight hug John purposefully gives and yelping as he lifts him off the ground to get in being annoying one more time before he left. The brunette had no idea who would take the brunt of that with not being there— maybe Lemar.
"I'll see you in a month," John says as he lowers him to get feet back on the floor, looking to Buck as he lets go of him. There was still that heavy hesitance, causing Bucky's chest and stomach to feel that weird flutter of anxiety all over again.
"Okay. Enjoy yourself, alright?"
"I will."
John dips in, taking Bucky by surprise as lips press to his own, holding there for a long few seconds before pulling back. He flashes a softer smile before parting to grab his bag and head on out the door, leaving the brunette sort of at a flustered loss that he had just kissed him goodbye.
Forget the sex— what the hell was that?!
Buck slowly sits back on the couch, staring off at the door before eyes finally flick on down to the floor to really have to consider what he felt. What he thought John felt. The man obviously craved affection as much as he craved attention, but— kissing hadn't slipped out of relation to sex.
Even just the man nuzzling noses had been sort of a shock to his system. The softness of it. The way it was starting to press over that barrier of what felt contained in something they already shouldn't be doing.
He wasn't sure if it was just that mutual boost of confidence on feeling this whole situation out— or if something else was there.
He supposed he had a month to really think about it.
Eyes flick to the movement of their creature— which John had named Puff. What a fucking sucker.
His gaze trails on to the clock under the TV before darting back to Puff at realizing that the temporary replacement coming soon could not know about the little creature.
Oh fuck.
Bucky quickly makes a little bed with a blanket, hurrying over to gently lift the fluff-ball up into hands to carry over and set down there for now. He goes in his own room, pushing the dresser up to have a corner to be able to hide the tank out of sight before rounding back to carefully pick it up to move.
He sets the terrarium down in his room, circling back to get the heating pad and every trace of packaging for the substrate to take in there too. He sets up the area as good as he can before moving the tank into the spot, figuring it was away from the vent enough to not blow hot air directly down in there.
He works to change the water out and set things back in their places, even deciding to go on and feed her out of schedule to make sure she would be sleeping and not squeaking when the guy got there.
Fuck. Why hadn't they thought about this?
Buck cuts up some grapes and a mango, sure she would enjoy it until he could get more bananas for her. He sets the bowl down, making sure that the tank couldn't really be seen from the doorway and relaxing at only being able to see the front edge of it. He wasn't planning to let the stranger in his bedroom— so he felt that would be good enough. He could always say he just had a hamster or lizard if asked.
The brunette goes back for the couch to grab Puff before making a noise at her being completely gone from the couch.
"Oh come on," He huffs, knowing it was really just his luck more than anything else.
She never wandered when they brought her out! Why now!
Bucky's extra careful where he steps, moving to look under every piece of furniture in the living room, but not seeing her. He checks the kitchen and his bedroom, taking a look under the bed, then rounding for John's room at noticing he forgot to shut the door in his hurry to leave.
He at least figured John didn't mind him going in there— especially after how many times Bucky had been in there the past couple weeks. They had— really been enjoying the sex.
Buck gets on the floor to glance under the bed, then the dresser before standing with a huff at not seeing her either place either. He starts for the door before a sweatshirt on the floor moves around with a tiny lump at the pocket.
"Oh thank god," He huffs, reaching in the opening to feel the familiar fuzz and lifting her out of there. She squeaks in complaint until Bucky holds her against his chest to offer his warmth to quiet the little thing down. Okay. It was fine.
Eyes flick to the sweatshirt, biting lip before snagging it to take back out with him. If Puff liked it then— surely it was fine to steal until John got back. Yeah. Only reason he wanted to take it. Not at all because he was already missing that big blonde bitch.
Chapter 17
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Bucky's mood had already been pretty sour from not sleeping a wink since John left, but the light prying in therapy had made it far worse. He had played off his far more irritable behavior as not liking the temporary replacement— which was very true— but he honestly felt like his therapist had her suspicions.
Not that she had outright asked or anything, but she had that way about her of seeming to practically read Bucky like a book. He couldn't say how much she suspected, but anything at all probably wasn't great. Then again, he really didn't think she would react more than just judging him about it.
That twisting feeling in his gut dips hard into a deep pit after turning on the TV for the news; Sam had gotten hurt. Really hurt. He was stable, but would likely be out of the scene for a few months.
Shit.
Buck should've kept in touch with him.
Maybe— when John got back— they could go out to see him.
Sam had made the effort to keep in contact with him, but— Buck just felt— like he wasn't really worth Sam's time. The man had way more important things to be doing than checking in on him. He hadn't ignored him completely or anything, but hadn't put in the same effort to reply or give more than brief answers when he did.
He supposed a part of that too was how much he thought about Steve around Sam. It wasn't Sam's fault on that— but it was just a consequence of how they had even met. He hadn't been in a good place to pick at that wound over the past months.
But now he wasn't sure if that had been the right call for himself.
He— should go visit him, yeah.
He leaves the channel on for now to be caught up on things, not having felt like asking about going to buy a paper. Really, he avoided interacting with the man assigned to him as much as he could.
The guy was an ass. It was like dealing with himself but far worse. No expression. Not even an attempt at conversation beyond one word answers and grunts. Insisted that Bucky call him "Mr. Taylor" and hadn't even offered a first name. And watched him like a damn hawk every time Buck was in eyesight.
He hated it.
He felt like he was with a fucking drill sergeant that was just waiting for him to mess up.
Bucky ignores the man seated at the table, moving into the kitchen to make himself dinner, knowing the man wouldn't touch anything he made for whatever 'self preservation' reasons he was thinking. But he does try to make enough food to split with George, not wanting him to go without even if the brunette wasn't as good of a cook as John. Which, he knew he was slowly improving every time he watched the blonde cook.
He quietly eats leaned over the counter, watching off at the TV to listen to the weather and a few local stories that weren't too interesting. He does his absolute best not to make any mess, not wanting to spill anything on the hoodie he was wearing. If he did, then he'd have to wash it— and that would lose the comforting smell.
"Hey— I'm going to run this food out," Buck comments after finishing his own.
The guy grunts, shifting the chair just a bit closer to the window so Buck would be in view when he went out. He was glad that he hadn't wanted to go with him the last few times either, wanting that small opening to get out of the apartment. He just needed to get away from the man without having to hide in his room. Even going into the waiting room at his therapy appointment while the guy stayed in the car felt like a breather.
Bucky slips out, heading on downstairs and out the front with container held in hand. He rounds over to be greeted by the old man before he could even tell him not to get up.
"Ah, my favorite face to see," The old man crackles, muffling a cough out.
Buck offers a smile and holds out the container with the drink he'd grabbed, "Sorry I'm a little late."
The man gives a dismissive wave before taking both the offered items, "Late is better than never. You know I appreciate you doing this at all."
"It's no trouble, really. John likes cooking— and I need the extra practice," He reassures.
The man shuffles to his normal spot to sit and Bucky follows to lean against a spot nearby, making sure to be mostly in view of the window. Didn't need someone hustling out to make sure he didn't run away or whatever the fucker thought he would do.
"Been meaning to ask— where is that boyfriend of yours? Only seen that other guy— and he definitely isn't him."
Bucky's face goes red, giving a flustered laugh as he shakes head, "Oh— uh— John's not— We aren't dating. 'nd he went to visit family for the holidays."
The man gives a soft chuckle, "I have nothing against gay people. You don't have to lie to lil old me; had my fair share of flings on both sides," He says back.
The embarrassment only grows at that, "No— It's uh— Nothing like that. We really aren't dating."
George gives an expression full of doubt at that, shaking head a little at him before sipping on the water. "I've been around long enough to know what it means when people look at each other the way you two do."
Bucky flicks eyes sideways, exhaling slow into the chill of the air. He didn't really know what he felt about John anymore. He wouldn't be missing him like this if it was dismissed away as they were just a strange version of friends. Really— he didn't know what their relationship was at all. Not since they met. It had all felt— like they just fit together so well— but at the same time in a way that he couldn't put words to.
"I guess it's more complicated than that."
"What? He have a girlfriend?" George teases.
Bucky gives a soft laugh, "I wish it were that simple," He smiles, still feeling the heat plastered on his cheeks.
"He's a good egg. Hold on to that one," The old man winks, only making that blush feel ten times worse.
"I'll do my best."
He would. He really would.
With that, Bucky gives a wave bye to let the man enjoy his meal. He slips back into the building, heading back up and into the apartment again. He quietly cleans up the small mess in the kitchen before moving to turn the TV back off and excuse himself to his bedroom to go read.
He'd tried to read in the living room multiple times, but Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass would mess with things or make noises that would drive him up a wall. It wasn't like Bucky wanted to be near him either. He didn't like that every time he happened to look over the man was looking back at him. He didn't like at all how unsafe he felt in a space that usually gave him comfort. The whole apartment just felt colder.
He hated it. Hated how this could've been his situation if he hadn't lucked out with Walker.
Puff was the only thing that seemed to hold his sanity from staying inside, not wanting to know how bad off he would be without an animal to give him some sort of pleasant distraction. He moves to gently scoop the sleeping ball of fluff out of her enclosure, smiling a little at tiny mouth yawning wide.
He moves over to the bed, snagging his new book with free hand to lay down on the bed and put the little creature on his chest for now. He was sure she'd make her way down to climb into his pocket. She liked John's hoodie too. Obviously why he wore it every time he was in the apartment.
The brunette quietly reads, getting through a good chunk of chapters with Puff finding her way down to hide away in the pocket. Had to be extra warm laying on Bucky's stomach with how hot he ran.
Eyes flick over as his phone rings, thinking it was a bit late for John to call, but not surprised when it's the number coming up with a glance. Who else would be calling him really?
He picks up with a, "Hey."
"Hey— sorry it's a bit late. Hope you weren't trying to sleep yet," John replies.
"No. You're the one that goes to bed early," He snorts.
"Well— yeah—"
Bucky smiles a little, "You behaving yourself?"
"Obviously. Lemar won't vouch for me— but I am behaving," The voice comes back, hearing a second voice comment from somewhere near, but unable to make out the words. He could only assume it was his friend denying John's statement. As he should be.
"Surprised you're even calling me if you're with him now," Buck comments in amusement.
"Well— I almost forgot, to be fair— But— I know you had therapy today. Just wanting to give a check-in. Make sure you were okay."
The words make how bad Bucky misses him really hit full force, feeling almost like he wanted to cry at that, but not really understanding why. John always asked if he was okay after therapy. Why was this time any different? Why did this time make him feel so alone?
"Eh, it went okay. I'm fine. I appreciate it though."
"Yeah?" John didn't sound particularly convinced.
Bucky could practically feel the look of concern through the phone, sighing softly, "I'm alright. Promise."
"Okay."
"Everything going okay on your end?" He asks, sure it was. And sort of catching himself messing with one of the drawstrings at the hood.
"Yeah, great. Was planning to stay with Lemar to go home with him for the week of Christmas— but my grandma and aunt said if I don't come visit them too Grandma's going to hunt me down. So, guess I'll be there for a few days too," John answers.
Buck gives a snort, "Can't piss off your granny, Walker."
"I know. Ninety-one and she'll beat me down," He comments with a huffed laugh.
"Good. You need a beat down every now and then."
"Rude."
Bucky hums to that.
"How's Puff?— Told Lemar about her."
"Of course you did. She's fine. Sleeping in my pocket right now," He answers, reaching hand down to lightly pet the little lump and not even getting a wiggle around this time. Had to be out cold from the warmth.
He was not surprised John had told his friend, but didn't mind either. He talked highly enough about the other man that he didn't have any sort of worry that it was a bad thing. Probably made it easier to not surprise him if the guy ever came to visit John here.
"Good. I'm glad you both are alright," John says, voice dipping just a touch softer.
"You too.— I'll let you go though— Go misbehave with your friend."
"He's the only one that misbehaves," John tries to protest, that voice coming somewhere near again. "I'll talk to you again at some point this week."
"Alright. Don't worry about it if you don't. I'd rather you enjoy yourself," Buck reassures, even if he did want to hear from him. He didn't necessarily like being on phone calls, but— he wanted to just— hear the man's voice. He wanted to hear that he was okay.
They give their goodbyes and he hangs up, moving to set the phone back aside. He settles flat on his back again, staring up at the ceiling and just feeling the slump in his own body. He missed John really fucking bad. He didn't know when exactly he had hit that point of not liking to go without him— but it was sure hitting him like a truck now that it was the case.
He didn't know if he could manage to tell him that he missed him. Didn't know if the words could physically leave his mouth. It felt a step too far out of line. A step that he wasn't ready to let himself take. It would be admitting to things that he really didn't think he could. That he shouldn't. That he—
Fuck.
Why were things always so complicated?
Notes:
Planning this out I didn't intend to make Bucky a love-sick puppy but. Here we fucking are.
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