#everytime i say the word therapy man... his face always blanks

[liberty-spiked]

They always fucking expect me to share private stuff about my life man. Fuck people wanting to protect their privacy, right? Sure, I could tell them about my trauma but then everyone in the room feels bad. And god forbid i say something slightly political. Thats a state sponsored course! I should be glad to be a participant!

They dont know how much i hold myself back to not stirr up trouble 🙃🙃🙃

[ilovethings-somuch]

Start With This

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt: #62 An inability to form meaningful relationship

A/N: @emilyevanston This is for Kate’s Cards Against Humanity Challenge! I’ve never written Bucky before but I’ve been wanting to for a while so I’m glad I finally got the chance. There’s a little bit of angst and fluff, but I think it’s all pretty mild even though it was very emotional for me to write.

I’ve always been a very self-reliant person. Growing up in my house, you had to be. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t that my parents didn’t care, it was more that I had 9 siblings and giving everyone a lot of attention wasn’t an option. They did a good job, all in all; I know how to take care of myself and I have a good work ethic. The only thing that I’m lacking in is communication skills and empathy; luckily, in my line of work, it’s never come up as a problem.

Being a part of the Avenger team meant that I was the best of the best. Or at least one of the best of the best, Natasha might still have me beat. Being an assassin might not be your typical job, but it’s a good gig for someone who’s strong, fast, and lacking in the empathetic department.

Everyone on the team is close. It’s hard not to be when living in the compound and training for hours on end everyday. I joined the team shortly after the whole Germany, Steve vs Tony, phiasco. After Tony and Steve formally apologized and T’challa figured out a way to help Bucky, they all returned from Wakanda and life went back to normal. Well, the normal that is being an Avenger.

I was introduced to the team while everyone was still a little tense. It was awkward when Tony and Bucky were in a room together and Steve was always trying to mediate and not pick a favorite. Due to this, and the general fact that I enjoy being alone, I spent most of my time in my room. Occasionally Wanda or Nat would join me, but most of my free time was spent in happy solitude.

That all changed when Bucky stumbled into my life. When I say stumbled, I mean he literally fell into my room. The door rattling before being quickly opened and slammed shut made me jump out of whatever slumber I was starting to fall into. I was out of bed with a knife in hand in a flash, but I couldn’t see anyone from where I was standing. As I peered around the corner I saw a man slumped on the floor leaning against the door. I twirled the knife, preparing the throw when the man shifted and I was able to make out his face.

“Bucky?” I breathed in confusion. He jumped at the sound and scrambled up from the floor.

“(y/n)?” he squinted back at me.

“Bucky what are you doing in my room?” I set the knife on the counter as I made my way towards him.

“I didn’t realize this was your room. When I picked the door I thought it was a supply closet or something. I’m sorry, I’ll go”

“Wait, why were you trying to go in a supply closet? And why were you sitting on the floor?”

“Um, I heard Tony down the hall and was trying to avoid him. And I may have tripped while closing the door” he mumbles sheepishly. A small smile takes over my features and stifle a laugh.

“Oh, okay. Well you can stay until Tony’s gone if you want” I shrug and turn back towards my bed.

“Really?” he sounds so surprised that I stop and look at him again.

“Yeah of course. Make yourself at home, I’m going back to bed”

“You’re just going to leave me alone in your living room?” he chuckles

“Fine,” I sigh. “Do you want to watch a movie or something? I can grab some snacks” I say in my fakest cheery voice. Bucky bursts out laughing but accepts the offer. I make Bucky pick a movie that he hasn’t seen before and we munch on chips and pretzels. I can barely keep my eyes open and I don’t try for very long. I eventually giving in, laying back on the armrest and tucking my feet under me. I feel someone carrying me in my subconscious but some part of my brain convinces me it’s not a threat. The soft feeling of my mattress that follows confirms my theory and I quickly fall back into a deep sleep.

After that night, Bucky started coming around more often. He was never invited, per say, but he was always welcome. As with most of my friendships, Bucky was doing most of the work. He usually had a lot to say and I was good at listening. Even though I could never empathize with what he was feeling, I was good at giving people what they needed. Most of the time he would rant to me about how annoyed he was with Tony and how he wanted Steve to just give him space sometimes. These mini therapy sessions all happened during the day. It wasn’t until a few months into this friendship that he tried coming at night.

The first time it happened I thought he was an intruder (once again) and almost took him out. Only stopping when I felt the cool metal of his arm under my touch.

“Bucky? What are you doing here?”

“I just, I don’t know. I can go” He looked everywhere but at me while he spoke.

“No, Buck, I’m sorry if I scared you. Do you need something, it’s kind of the middle of the night” I didn’t necessarily want him to stay, but I figured if he needed something it would be easier to ask now than to have him come back later.

“I had a nightmare. I didn’t want to be alone” he tells me bluntly, finally making eye contact.

“Oh” I pause for too long before continuing. “I thought you usually went to Steve when that happened”

“Yeah, your right. I’ll go there”

“I don’t mean to kick you out. I guess I’m just confused. You can stay with me if you want, just tell me what you need”

“Steve always tries to make me talk about it. I think I just want to lay down again. Can I lay with you?” something deep within me flutters at the thought of laying in bed with Bucky but I squash it down quickly as I nod my consent.

I lead him back towards my bed and pull the covers back for us. He waits for me to crawl in before coming up beside me. He touches my arm lightly, testing, and I flinch at the contact and he pulls away. It isn’t the first time that Bucky has gotten cuddly with me, but I’m always hesitant and find myself tensing up and holding as still as possible every time it happens. He usually doesn’t notice my unwillingness and the fact that he did this time makes me feel guilty. The part of my brain that remembers caring for my younger siblings kicks in and I hesitantly reach out to rest my head on his shoulder. His arms go around me again, holding me in place as he quickly falls back asleep.

I’m left staring at the wall for hours. I occasionally nod off, only to be woken again by Buck’s soft snores. I fall into a deep sleep around 4, but am quickly woken by my alarm at 6. Bucky releases me slowly as he stretches and moans lightly.

“What time is it?” he mumbles and looks at me.

“6, we have training at 7” I sit up as soon as he releases me and get up from the bed. I feel Bucky’s eyes on me as I do so, but I can’t find it in me to care what he’s thinking. I grab the clothes that I need and head to the bathroom. When I come back out Bucky’s gone.

Bucky didn’t talk to me the rest of that day. Or the day after that. It was almost a week before the guilt built up in me and I had to talk to him.

“Bucky?” I knocked tentatively on his door, hoping he would answer. I heard movement in the room and it didn’t take long for him to open the door.

“(y/n), what are you doing here?” He sounded tired and annoyed, I almost left right then.

“I haven’t seen you in like a week. I mean, I’ve seen you, but you haven’t been coming around. I was just worried I guess”

“Well I’m fine” he spit out before closing the door in my face.

The pain in my chest is something I wasn’t expecting. My eyes are welling up as my breath starts coming in fast and uneven. I know what crying feels like, I’m not completely heartless, but the drop of my stomach and the ache in my chest isn’t something I’ve ever associated with it. I’m able to make it back to my room before sobs start escaping my tightly closed lips. I’ve never experienced anything like this and I’m udderly unprepared. I end up in a ball in the middle of the floor as sobs wreck through me.

I don’t know how long I stay there. Eventually the tears stop coming and it’s just the occasional sob that brings me back to the present. I keep trying to think of what caused this but everytime I drawing a blank. I must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing I know I’m woken up by FRIDAY.

“Miss (y/l/n), you’re going to be late for training if you don’t get up now”

“Thank you FRIDAY” I moan back as I roll over on the floor and stretch

“Of course, Miss (y/l/n). May I ask how you’re feeling?”

“I’m fine now, just sore from sleeping on the floor. That will be all FRIDAY” I reply impatiently. I know it’s FRIDAY’s job to check on us, especially when we do unusual things, but I really don’t need to be reminded of what happened last night.

“Well you look like a mess” Sam cracks as I walk into the room.

“Thanks” I snap back. I glare at him for a moment but when I notice Bucky is by him I look down and walk to the other side of the gym. I just starting to work up a sweat on the punching bag when notice someone out of the corner of my eye.

“Do you have more jokes, Sam?” I snark without looking up.

“Actually, I was wondering if you were okay” Bucky asks gently.

“Yeah, Bucky, I’m fine” I emphasize the words, hoping he’ll put it together.

“Right, I know I messed up I-”

“I just said I’m fine” I cut him off, but regret it when I see the look on his face.

“Can we go somewhere and talk. (y/n) please?” he pleads. My resolve disappears as soon as I meet his gaze and I nod my agreement. He leads me out of the gym and to his room. I bite back more rude comments along the way and the ache in my chest starts forming again.

“What’s going on with you?” he asks as soon as the door closes.

“What’s going on with me? Bucky, what’s going on with you? You just disappeared and then I tried to go talk to you and you slammed the door in my face!”

“I was giving you space!” he matches my shouting tone.

“Giving someone space and not talking to them for a week is completely different” I’m starting to breathe faster and am scared the tears are going to flow at any moment.

“I thought it’s what you wanted” his face contorts in confusion and the look almost breaks my heart.

“Why did you think that?” I ask in barely a whisper.

“You were so cold to me, the morning after I had a nightmare. I woke up with the biggest smile on my face, getting to wake up with you in my arms, and then I looked at you and I saw you didn’t feel the same way. I saw how uncomfortable and uneasy you were. You don’t feel the same way about me that I feel about you and I needed to stay away for a while so that my feelings would go away”

“And did they?”

“No” he smiles sadly at me.

“I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve never cried over anyone before but, Bucky, I think I love you”

“I love you so much, but you don’t act like you love me”

“I don’t know how, I don’t know how to show my emotions or even just touch you” the tears are coming with my confession.

“It’s been a while for me too, we can learn together” he reaches for my hand and I flinch. “Let’s just,” he meets my eyes as his hand closes around mine, he finishes speaking as he brings my hand up to lips and presses a slow kiss over my fingers, “start with this”

Permanent Tag List: @amistillmyself @barnesbestgirl @giftofdreams @wildestdreamsrps @iamwarrenspeace @castellandiangelo @always-an-evans-addict @pegasusdragontiger

[demonsonthemoon]

We Shall Rule - Chapter 3

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Comics Pairing: Platonic Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton, Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson Word Count: 4822 Summary: Bucky Barnes is slowly recovering from trauma and trying to start a having a normal life once more. Then he meets Clint, a new variable that intrigues him in a way he can’t quite name. This is a story of people learning to know each others and themselves, navigating identity and relationships, overcoming trauma and trust issues. It’s a story about life.

Also available on AO3.

Bucky had an appointment with his physical therapist the next day, and came back from it utterly exhausted, falling into bed without even bothering to check whether Steve was home or not. He stared at his prosthetic fingers for a while, watching them move back and forth as he willed them to, feeling his muscles strain under the effort. The process seemed so natural, yet so alien at the same time. It made Bucky uncomfortable. He took off the heavy prosthesis before sliding into bed for a nap, cringing as he unlocked the mechanism that let it attach to his body. Even now, he had trouble adjusting his equilibrium everytime he took the arm off. His body always instinctively compensated the heavy weight of the battery and motor inside it. He put the prosthesis down on the side of his desk he kept clear for this purpose. His whole shoulder was aching after his session of exercises and his massage, and he ran his hand over the scars on his lump as he breathed through the first wave of pain.

He pulled the blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes, focusing on his heartbeat to try and not think of anything else.

He eventually fell asleep, waking up a few hours later to an ignorable throb.

He eyed the alarm clock next to his bed. It was four o'clock already and he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.

He stood up with a sigh, dejectedly looking down at his sleep-crumpled clothes and sighing. He eyed his prosthetis for a second before deciding it was too much to bother with. He wandered to the kitchen, sleep in his eyes. He could feel his body leaning sideways still. He looked into the fridge to see whether they were any leftovers lying around, even though he was the one who did most of the cooking in the house and knew perfectly well there was nothing ready-made there. Bucky was tired.

In the end, he made himself a plain sandwich with ham and cheese, wincing at the dryness of the taste as he ate. He needed to get himself together, he thought. Instead, he went back to his room, not even bothering to open the curtains or turn on the lights. He picked up his phone from his bedside table, as well as a pair of earbuds, pushed up his pillow and settled himself against it. He put the earbuds in and brought his knees close to his chest, pressing play on the music menu of his phone. Music started blaring mid-song, too loud and too harsh, and Bucky felt his body tense up before relaxing again. He let everything wash over him, falling deep in himself and the music, ignoring everything else. A song became another then another, until he slowly regained some sense of time and place. The ache in his stump was mostly gone now, but he still didn't want to wear his prosthetis if he didn't have to.

He put his earbuds aside and opened the curtains and windows, letting in both sun and fresh air. He was only wearing a t-shirt, but the apartment was well-heated. It was a habit he had taken as soon as he had moved back in with Steve. Now that they could afford a nice apartment and proper heating, this little luxury was comforting.

Bucky walked to Steve's office space, a tiny room that barely fit a desk and some bookshelves. He knocked, then opened the door when there was no answer. Silence didn't always mean that Steve wasn't there. He would often be either too focused to reply or listening to music and not hearing anything of what was going on around him. The young man was actually gone this time, though. He was employed part-time as a graphic designer by a non-profit organisation, and did freelance illustration on the side, which made for flexible and erratic schedules that Bucky had long since given up on trying to keep track of.

He considered going out. Doing some groceries, maybe, even though they still had enough for at least two meals in the fridge. Or just taking a walk. But all of that would involve putting the prosthetis back on, and the effort of actually getting out of the apartment.

He sat down in front of the TV instead.

His mind was blank as he settled on a cartoon channel and watched characters he didn't know about go through actions he didn't understand the point of. He hadn't had a crash so bad after physical therapy in quite a long time. It used to happen after every other appointment, the pain and the exhaustion making him shut down emotionally for a day or two. He knew he had to go through it all though, knew how much good the physical therapy was doing him. It was just hard to focus on the physical benefits when his body felt like a foreign object even as he was inhabiting it.

He remembered a time when that hadn't been the case at all. He remembered wearing his skin confidently, glowing with it as Steve liked to jealously remind him. He remembered training in the military, remembered the pleasure he felt in feeling his muscles work, the addiction to the smell of his own sweat on his skin. He remembered his own smile on photographs, never self-conscious, always promising something.

He remembered the cold of night, remembered the explosion of sound, so loud it immediately dissolved into silence. He remembered a fall, a searing pain through his arm, like burning your tongue, a numbness spreading through his brain until he didn't feel anything.

And then the silence. The silence. Waiting for something, trying not to hope, just losing himself to the silence and the burning and the cold.

He turned his head to greet Steve as he heard him come inside.

“Hey.” Bucky willed his voice to carry, not to tremble.

“Oh, hi,” Steve walked into the room from the kitchen, leaning agains the wall. “I hadn't noticed you there. What are you watching?”

Bucky turned back to the screen, but he honestly had no clue. “Don't know.” He shrugged, and felt Steve's gaze stop on his stump for a second.

“Bad therapy day?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, then let his head fall back against the back of the couch, hair falling across his cheeks as he did.

Steve toed off his shoes and pushed him slightly, forcing him to free some space on the couch. He sat down next to Bucky, well into his personal space, and even rested his head against his shoulder.

Steve was on his left side, so he couldn't put an arm around him, but he didn't really need to as the smaller man cuddled against him until there was barely any space between their bodies. It was funny how touch averse they both could be when it came to other people, and how much bodily contact went on between them two. Of course, they had a history that had built up this closeness, but even then. The fact that it had survived despite what they both had gone through felt like a miracle at times.

“Hey, Steve.” Bucky stopped, not adding anything. There was a thought in his mind, but he wasn't sure where it was coming from, and he wasn't sure whether he should voice it or not. It would certainly be awkward.

Steve moved slightly against him, still looking for the most comfortable position. His small size was an advantage, since by curling in on himself and resting his head on Bucky's chest, he could fit under the stump of his arm without disturbing it. “Mmh?”

“Do you like Sam?”

Steve froze. Then he slowly uncoiled himself and sat down more properly, restoring a few centimeters of space between him and Bucky. “Why do you ask?”

His voice was calculated and careful, which made Bucky frown. “Uh? Because I'm curious? I think you would make a good couple.”

Steve looked away at that and started biting his bottom lip. Bucky was feeling more confused than he felt he ought to be at this early stage of the conversation.

“Uh? Is there a problem? If you don't want to talk about it it's...”

“No, no, no!” Steve started, shaking his head.

Bucky realised he had been moving his body away from his friend's and stopped. He knew that Steve got overly worried whenever he appeared even slightly uncomfortable, which was honestly annoying whenever he was the one worrying about Steve.

“Look, I-” Bucky stopped, ran a hand through his hair, then tried again. “I didn't mean anything by it. It was just a stupid comment. Ignore it.”

Silence fell as Steve failed to immediately reply, and Bucky pretended to focus on the television screen again.

“I might like him a little.”

Bucky could hear the embarrassment in Steve's voice. He didn't turn away from the screen, thinking that his friend would be more at ease without having to make eye contact.

“And I'm pretty sure he likes me well enough?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, turning back just slightly to see Steve's face. “Are you asking me?”

Steve shrugged. “Nah. I guess not. I'm pretty sure he would say yes if I asked him on a date I just don't... I'm just not sure if  I should.”

Bucky kept on pretending he was following anything of what was going on on the TV. “Why shouldn't you? I mean, Sam is sweet. He's a little shit, but he's sweet.”

Steve started laughing. “He said almost the exact same thing about you not three days ago. I honestly think the two of you would be great friends if you interacted more when I'm not there to force you to.”

“I'll think about it. Not sure the guy is worth the effort, but if it makes you happy...” Bucky bumped his shoulder into Steve's. “You're changing the subject, though. Why shouldn't you date Sam?”

Steve sighed, then kept silent again. Bucky turned back fully towards him then, frowning once more. “Seriously, Steve. Is something wrong? This shouldn't be worrying you so much.”

Steve let out a bitter laugh, something akin to a bark that felt unnatural in his mouth.

“Easy for you to say.”

“What do you mean?”

Steve looked away. “Sorry. I didn't mean that. It's just... You're... you. You're used to flirting and dating and stuff-”

“I haven't actually dated anyone since you, you know.”

Steve leaned back against him one more, quieting down. “Yeah. I know.”

Bucky slowly brushed his right hand along Steve's arm. “Is this about me?”

Steve didn't reply, only pressing closer into Bucky's skin.

“Hey, Steve. I'm gonna need an answer on this one. Is this about me?”

“I don't know-” Steve's voice was half-muffled. “Maybe a little.”

Bucky sighed. “You idiot. I'm fine. I.. I'll be okay. You don't have to worry about me.”

“We never actually broke up.”

“Steve-”

“No, hear me out.” Steve put a hand out, as if to stop Bucky from even moving. “We never actually broke up. And I'm okay with that, because there wasn't time, there wasn't... we didn't know. But that's okay. But you haven't actually dated anyone since you were dating me.”

Bucky was regretting starting this conversation. He hadn't thought it was going to end up going in this direction at all.

“Are you asking me if I got enough closure?”

Steve didn't reply, but he stared intently at Bucky, blue eyes unwavering. It was reply enough.

“I... Of course I did. I mean... I left. I mean, sure, we kept in touch, but none of us actually believed the long-distance thing was working, right? And then you... you. And then I got hurt. There wasn't clear closure, but we're not...”

“Are we not?” Steve asked, still lying on Bucky, looking up through his eyelashes in a way that brought back so many memories Bucky had to wonder if he wasn't actually in need of closure.

He shaked his head, though.

“We're not. And I've got my closure. You don't need to worry about me.”

“Why aren't you dating anyone, then?”

Bucky let out a puff of laughter. “Dude. I barely leave the flat on my own.”

“Do you want to date anyone?”

“When did this become about me?”

“Buck, please.”

“I don't... know. I don't know. No? I'm not... I don't feel like I need to be dating anyone right now. I'm not... interested.”

“You're sure?”

Bucky wanted to laugh. Hell no, he wasn't sure. It was true he hadn't really felt the need to date anyone in the 18 months since his injury, but was that just because he hadn't been very social in any form anyway? Then there was Clint, with whom he might be flirting but also was not flirting. He had no idea what he felt for Clint. It had been different, before. When he liked someone, he would feel it immediately. There was an easy tension that came from being attracted to someone. If there was tension between him and Clint, though, it wasn't the same kind.

Buck nodded in Steve's direction. “I'm sure.”

Steve nodded too, then,  more solemnly. There was something half-sad to his expression, and Bucky could guess where it was coming from. Maybe some part of Steve had wanted for Bucky to still be attracted to him. Maybe some part of him had needed that, as validation. Bucky wished Steve would have sat down on his other side, or that he was wearing his prosthetic, so that he could hug his friend close to him.

“I'm fine, Steve. I don't want to be dating anyone right now, and I guess that includes you. But you're my best friend. You're still my best friend. You'll always be my best friend.”

“I know. I don't need you to comfort me. I'm not a teenage girl anymore.” He let out the smallest smile.

Bucky laughed at that. “No, you're definitely not.”

Steve still didn't seem to want to move from his position on Bucky's chest.

Bucky wondered how the conversation could have deviated so much, but he was thankful, in a way. He seemed to have broken out of his daze of blankness and self-pity.

“So... you and Sam?”

Steve groaned, raised himself up again and pushed Bucky away.

“Shut up. You're an idiot.”

Bucky shrugged. “I'm serious, Stevie. There's something there. You know it. I know it. I'm pretty sure Sam knows it, though I'm also pretty sure he's just too polite to point it out.”

“You are not getting involved in my love life, Buck.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Steve. You've got to admit it to yourself. There is no way I will not get involve in your love life. You're doomed.”

Steve got up off the couch at that, putting both hands over his ears. “I am not listening to you anymore. You are an asshole and I will ignore you all evening and be the better for it.”

“I LOVE YOU TOO STEVIE!” Bucky shouted as his friend walked out of the room and into his bedroom.

So Bucky was left with the television once more. It wasn't the same cartoon playing anymore, though he was as unfamiliar with that story as with the previous one.

He turned the TV off with a sigh. It wasn't a sad sigh. It was more a marking of the transition between a moment of easy comfort and the rest of one's life. Bucky got up and stretched his right arm above his head.

His stump was still hurting slightly and he didn't want to have to put the prosthetis back on for just a few hours.

“Steve! Stop whining and come help me make dinner.”

Steve popped his head through the door. “You always tell me I can't cook to save my life.”

“Well, what can I say? I'm an optimist and believe there's still hope that you'll learn.”

Steve shrugged. “As long as you don't complain if I mess things up...”

Two days later, Sam invited Bucky to the cinema. He did so by text, and Bucky's first reaction was to show his phone to Steve.

“What have you been telling your crush about me?” Bucky asked accusingly.

Steve, of course, the jerk that he was, batted his eyelashes innocently. “Me? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“You're full of crap, Rogers.”

Steve didn't looke even the slighest bit ashamed. “I told you you would get along more if you actually hung out without me. And I didn't force Sam to invite you. He actually liked the idea.”

“You are a terrible person. I don't know why I'm friends with you.”

Bucky started typing on his phone.

“Are you gonna go?”

Steve's voice was concerned. Bucky tried to play it cool, play it natural, and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I'm gonna go. But if your boyfriend picks a terrible movie, I'm blaming you as well as him. And you will regret this.”

Steve didn't even deign to reply, simply grinning like a puppy. Bucky made a face and walked away, making some coffee for two.

As he stared at the coffee machine, his thoughts drifted back to Clint. He hadn't contacted the young man after that one time in the coffee shop. Not because he hadn't wanted to. He just hadn't done it.

And wasn't that a perfect illustration of all of his relationships right now? It had been a year since he had come back from the hospital, and though he had never actively pushed anyone away, he also hadn't made any effort to reconnect with anybody. Which left him with two close friends, Steve and Natasha, then Jess and Sam, and maybe Clint. If he could get his shit together enough to actually text the guy.

Bucky joined Steve on their couch and put two mugs of coffee on the coffee table, one black with two cubes of sugar and one topped with a thick layer of milk.

“Why aren't you coming to the movie with us, though?” he asked Steve.

The blond looked up from the book he was reading, a pair of thin glasses balanced on his nose. “Uh?”

“With Sam and I. The movie. I don't mind going alone with Sam, but why aren't you coming? Are you gonna stay here by yourself while I go out with your future boyfriend? Because that would be weird.”

“Don't call him my future boyfriend.”

Bucky shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee with milk and handing Steve his mug. “So. Why aren't you coming?”

“I'm actually busy tonight. A friend of mine invited me to a gallery opening. It's way too fancy for me to be invited, but she was, and she could bring a plus one.”

“Do I know her?”

“I think you met her once, before you left. She's called Peggy?”

Bucky had to think about it. That would have been three or four years ago. “The name rings a bell, but I couldn't tell you what she looked like anymore.”

“Yeah, well. We lost touched for a while when I started my transition, but we started talking again a few months back, and she knew I was interested in that new gallery I guess. So I said why not.”

“Yeah, no,” Bucky replied, nodding and settling himself more comfortably on the couch. “It's good. That's nice.”

He would have asked if it had been awkward for them to reconnect post-transition, but knew he wasn't entitled to that kind of morbid curiosity.

“I hope you guys will have fun.”

“She told me she finds those events absolutely terrible, but I guess at least we'll have each other's company?”

Steve closed his book and put it on the table in order to pick up his coffee. He hummed pleasantly as the warmth spread through his fingers.

“Did Sam tell you what movie you're gonna see?”

“I have absolutely no idea. He told me he would pick and that I had no choice. I'm honestly kind of scared.”

He kept his coffee cup in his left hand and pulled his phone out of his pocket with the other one, starting to scroll through his facebook feed. Most of it was filled with news article, since he liked the official page of pretty much every media outlet that deserved an ounce of respect. He felt like he couldn't afford not knowing if something big was happening in the world.

They sipped at their coffee in silence as Steve went back to reading and Bucky kept fiddling with his phone. He tagged Natasha in a cat video and read a few articles on international tensions. He tried to avoid anything that dealt directly with military actions.

He remembered Steve telling him how stupid he was to sign up for the army. He remembered Steve admitting, after getting so mad at each other they had been thrown out in the rain by the friends they had been staying with, that he wished he could join in with Bucky. Steve had always been the patriotic one, at that time he had even believed in the army. Bucky was only interested in the money at first. But Steve couldn't possibly have joined up, and Bucky actually thrived as a soldier. Until his injury.

He locked his phone again. Whenever he let his thoughts wonder like that, he fell back to the same memories. He knew that he shouldn't blame his brain for still trying to process things, but he could admit to himself that he would prefer being able to ignore it all for the rest of his life.

“I'm gonna go grab a book.”

He actually had a nice time with Sam. They went for burgers before the movie, which was some kind of ridiculous space opera that made absolutely no sense but was visually stunning and somehow extremely enjoyable to watch. He came out of the cinema utterly confused but with a smile on his face, and didn't even think of refusing when Sam asked if he wanted to get a drink before they went back their own way.

Bucky texted Steve to let him now he would come back later than expected. He didn't expect his friend to text back immediately, and so put his phone back into his pocket, letting Sam lead the way to a bar he knew which should be somewhat less crowded than usual bars on a Saturday evening.

Steve had been right, of course, and he and Sam did get along really well. They both had a sarcastic sense of humor, and Sam had a particular way of caring for people without infantilising them which Bucky particularly appreciated. He let himself be carried away in the conversation, starting from their respective opinion on the movie – a mess, but in a nice way – to their favorite sci-fi movies, to their favorite movie quote and so on. The both of them had finished their drinks and were about to head in different directions to walk back home when Bucky realised he hadn't felt his phone vibrate for the whole evening. He checked the screen, which was blank.

He furrowed his brows, feeling anxiety rising in his stomach.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, hands in his pants pockets to shield them from the cold.

Bucky shaked his head slightly. “Yeah, I... It's just...” He looked up, and saw that Sam was looking genuinely concerned. “It's nothing, really. Just... Steve hasn't texted me back.”

“He might be asleep.”

Bucky shaked his head in earnest this time. “No. He was at this gallery opening. It ended half an hour ago, so he should be on his way. But... He's really careful about me checking in. He should have texted back.”

“His phone might be dead. Or he might just not have heard it, if there's a lot of noise where he is. And the party might have run just a slightly bit late and that's why he's not back yet. I'm sure he's fine.”

“Yeah. Yeah, probably. It's probably nothing.” He laughed bitterly. “What a pair we make, right? Perfect illustration of codependency.”

“With what you've both been through, it should be expected. It might not be healthy, but it's not surprising.” “That's not exactly a comfort, Sam.”

The man shrugged. “Do you want me to come home with you, just in case?”

“I'm not a kid,” Bucky immediately replied, taking on an offended tone. “I can-” Bucky stopped himself. Sam was looking at him with a face that was carefully blank. No pity on his face, no obvious concern. It was the kind of expression so neutral it could only be a façade.

Bucky looked down at his feet. Sam might not be concerned for him, but he would certainly be for Steve.

“Fine. You can come with.”

Sam smiled, looking relieved, and Bucky shaked his head and walked away without even looking at him. The bus stop wasn't far, and they got there a few minutes before the last bus was due. As they waited, Bucky kept checking his phone, finally giving in and sending Steve a text asking him to show he was alive.

He hadn't been joking when he had told Sam that the both of them might be a little codependant. It was something that had taken him months to realise, and his therapist had had to ease him into it. He felt uncomfortable with the knowledge now, couldn't help analysing every single aspect of their relationship or even their conversations. But being aware of the problem wasn't enough to make it go away, and he had no idea how he would deal if he truly had to stop being so close to Steve.

Bucky's therapist has been asking him to have a conversation with Steve about all of that, even offering to make an appointment with him if Bucky felt he couldn't approach the subject on his own. After the conversation they'd had about Bucky's dating situation, he thought it might be worth a try. But well. There was one more step to take between knowing it was a good idea and actually doing it.

“Still no reply?” Sam asked, keeping a neutral tone.

Bucky shaked his head. The night had gotten a bit chilly, and he popped up his collar against the wind, admitting it would probably have been a good idea to wear a scarf under his leather jacket. Although Sam was only wearing a plaid collared shirt instead of a jacket and seemed completely fine. The fucker.

Bucky was about to call him out on that when the bus arrived. They stepped inside, and Sam bought a ticket while Bucky used his pass.

The only other passengers where three girls either back or getting ready for a night out and an older man. The girls were chatting at the back, but it still felt mostly silent, and Sam and Bucky took two seats at the front.

Sam checked his phone too. Still no word from Steve.

“Do you know the girl he's with?” Sam asked.

Bucky turned back towards him after having been staring at his own reflection in the bus window. “No, not really. Steve told me I've met her once apparently, but I honestly don't remember anything about her. I think they met in college, or late high school. They lost touch, reconnected a while back. She has contacts in the art scene – god knows how – and since she knew he was interested, she invited him.”

Sam nodded, two fingers rythmically tapping against his leg.

“I don't think she's trouble,” Bucky continued, for both their sakes. “I mean, I can't be sure, I don't know her, but Steve didn't seem worried at all. And he didn't seem surprised that she would invite him.”

“He should be fine, then.”

Bucky nodded, repeating Sam's words under his breath. They kept silent after that. The easy-going banter was gone between them, getting replaced by more and more tension as minutes passed by without any more news.

The bus finally stopped a block away from Bucky and Steve's appartment, and they walked up to it without exchanging one more word. As Bucky opened the door, he was hoping he would hear sound from the living room, or see light under Steve's bedroom door, but there was nothing. He let Sam in, closed the door again, and checked every room to be sure. No sign of Steve.