Two days after the procedure, Helen took Bucky to a facility upstate for monitoring and more cognitive therapy. Steve didn’t get to say goodbye. Bucky was still refusing to see anyone but the doctors.
After the events of the last mission, Steve and the rest of his team were taken off active duty for a few weeks. They were required to talk with the Avengers’ psychologists over Skype.
“Don’t know how much more I can take,” Nat confided to Steve and Sam after they ran into each other in the common kitchen one morning. “How many ways are there to say ‘I’m fine, I’ve been through worse’?”
“Guess I got an advantage,” Sam said. “I know how they think. I know what they want to hear.”
“Care to share? ‘Cause I’m supposed to be good at telling people what they want to hear, this is getting embarrassing.”
Steve excused himself, but he wasn’t sure if his friends heard him over their banter. He was also chafing against his twice-a-week therapy sessions, but he didn’t want to joke about it with Sam and Nat.
He was feeling trapped at the compound. He was allowed to leave, but he didn’t want to. He had nowhere to go. He spent most of his time in the gym or in his room, pacing and trying not to look at the corner where he’d thrown Bucky’s bear. He had to drape a towel over the toy before he could go to sleep the first night. Even without eyes, he felt it staring at him. Taunting him.
He missed Bucky. He missed being able to touch Bucky and to tell him how good he was. He knew how sick that made him, after everything Rumlow had revealed.
One night, sleepless as usual, Steve removed the towel from the stuffed bear and picked it up. He regarded it suspiciously for a few minutes, holding it at arm’s length as if it might suddenly bite him. Then he buried his face in it. There was a fetid smell to the fabric, but underneath that he smelled Bucky. Bucky’s soap. Bucky’s sweat. Bucky’s tears.
He brought the bear against his chest and hugged it tightly as he lay on the bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. When he woke the next morning he was in the same position, clutching the bear like Bucky had before. He didn’t know what that meant. He kept it in his bed as the nights passed. He didn’t always hold it, but knowing it was there comforted him.
*
Two weeks after he'd left with Helen, Bucky knocked on Steve’s door.
“Hey,” Steve said stupidly, overcome with joy when he opened the door and saw who it was. “Uh, come in?”
Bucky’s face was unreadable. He brushed passed Steve into the room. Steve shut the door.
“You kept it.”
Bucky was looking at the stuffed bear on Steve’s pillow. The other Steve.
“Yeah,” Steve was embarrassed about it for the first time. “I didn’t know why you left it for me. I thought you might need it back.”
“Nah,” Bucky dismissed quickly. “I don’t need it anymore.”
He looked at Steve, standing awkwardly in front of the door. There was shame and anger in the way his jaw set and his eyes narrowed.
“Were we- ? We were together, right? Back then?”
There was shame, and anger, but there was also hope.
“Yes,” Steve tried to keep his voice steady. He wanted to cry with relief. “I loved you. I still do.”
“Good,” Bucky closed his eyes briefly. He looked relieved, too. “I wanted to make sure that was real. Not something my brain made up ‘cause I wanted it to be real.”
Bucky opened his eyes again.
“I’m sorry I put that on you. I shoulda told the doctors as soon as I felt it coming back, but- but I didn’t want to. It was so fucking humiliating.”
“But you told me.”
“Yeah,” a ghost of a smile flickered over Bucky’s face. “‘Cause you’re you.”
Steve didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not. He floundered for what to say. Bucky was back, and Bucky remembered what they’d been.
“So, you’re back?”
“I’m back,” Bucky confirmed. “Docs got the rest of the programming out, did a couple thorough sweeps. Still gotta talk with the shrinks if I wanna be an Avenger, but that’s not so bad.”
“No,” Steve agreed. “It’s not so bad.”
They looked at each other for a moment. The silence was uncomfortable.
“I should go get resettled,” Bucky broke the silence. “See you around.”
He started toward Steve, heading for the door.
“Buck- ”
Bucky paused. Steve wanted to tell him to wait. He wanted to ask if there was a chance for them to be what they’d been again.
“Do you want- ?”
He had visions of holding Bucky, rocking him, cooing at him while both their faces flamed. Visions of Rumlow doing the same with sneer. Visions of Rumlow rolling Bucky over on his stomach while he unzipped his fly. Visions of himself, alone in his room with his hand on his cock after he’d tucked Bucky into bed-
“Do you wanna take your bear?”
Something dark flickered over Bucky’s face.
“Told you,” he answered gruffly. “I don’t need it anymore. Get rid of it, if you want.”
Steve tried not to take that personally. It was stupid to be jealous of the toy, and it was stupider to project himself onto it. No matter what its name was. He nodded at Bucky and moved aside to let him leave. His heart lurched when the door shut behind him.
Fill: Berceuse (8/?)
After the events of the last mission, Steve and the rest of his team were taken off active duty for a few weeks. They were required to talk with the Avengers’ psychologists over Skype.
“Don’t know how much more I can take,” Nat confided to Steve and Sam after they ran into each other in the common kitchen one morning. “How many ways are there to say ‘I’m fine, I’ve been through worse’?”
“Guess I got an advantage,” Sam said. “I know how they think. I know what they want to hear.”
“Care to share? ‘Cause I’m supposed to be good at telling people what they want to hear, this is getting embarrassing.”
Steve excused himself, but he wasn’t sure if his friends heard him over their banter. He was also chafing against his twice-a-week therapy sessions, but he didn’t want to joke about it with Sam and Nat.
He was feeling trapped at the compound. He was allowed to leave, but he didn’t want to. He had nowhere to go. He spent most of his time in the gym or in his room, pacing and trying not to look at the corner where he’d thrown Bucky’s bear. He had to drape a towel over the toy before he could go to sleep the first night. Even without eyes, he felt it staring at him. Taunting him.
He missed Bucky. He missed being able to touch Bucky and to tell him how good he was. He knew how sick that made him, after everything Rumlow had revealed.
One night, sleepless as usual, Steve removed the towel from the stuffed bear and picked it up. He regarded it suspiciously for a few minutes, holding it at arm’s length as if it might suddenly bite him. Then he buried his face in it. There was a fetid smell to the fabric, but underneath that he smelled Bucky. Bucky’s soap. Bucky’s sweat. Bucky’s tears.
He brought the bear against his chest and hugged it tightly as he lay on the bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. When he woke the next morning he was in the same position, clutching the bear like Bucky had before. He didn’t know what that meant. He kept it in his bed as the nights passed. He didn’t always hold it, but knowing it was there comforted him.
*
Two weeks after he'd left with Helen, Bucky knocked on Steve’s door.
“Hey,” Steve said stupidly, overcome with joy when he opened the door and saw who it was. “Uh, come in?”
Bucky’s face was unreadable. He brushed passed Steve into the room. Steve shut the door.
“You kept it.”
Bucky was looking at the stuffed bear on Steve’s pillow. The other Steve.
“Yeah,” Steve was embarrassed about it for the first time. “I didn’t know why you left it for me. I thought you might need it back.”
“Nah,” Bucky dismissed quickly. “I don’t need it anymore.”
He looked at Steve, standing awkwardly in front of the door. There was shame and anger in the way his jaw set and his eyes narrowed.
“Were we- ? We were together, right? Back then?”
There was shame, and anger, but there was also hope.
“Yes,” Steve tried to keep his voice steady. He wanted to cry with relief. “I loved you. I still do.”
“Good,” Bucky closed his eyes briefly. He looked relieved, too. “I wanted to make sure that was real. Not something my brain made up ‘cause I wanted it to be real.”
Bucky opened his eyes again.
“I’m sorry I put that on you. I shoulda told the doctors as soon as I felt it coming back, but- but I didn’t want to. It was so fucking humiliating.”
“But you told me.”
“Yeah,” a ghost of a smile flickered over Bucky’s face. “‘Cause you’re you.”
Steve didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not. He floundered for what to say. Bucky was back, and Bucky remembered what they’d been.
“So, you’re back?”
“I’m back,” Bucky confirmed. “Docs got the rest of the programming out, did a couple thorough sweeps. Still gotta talk with the shrinks if I wanna be an Avenger, but that’s not so bad.”
“No,” Steve agreed. “It’s not so bad.”
They looked at each other for a moment. The silence was uncomfortable.
“I should go get resettled,” Bucky broke the silence. “See you around.”
He started toward Steve, heading for the door.
“Buck- ”
Bucky paused. Steve wanted to tell him to wait. He wanted to ask if there was a chance for them to be what they’d been again.
“Do you want- ?”
He had visions of holding Bucky, rocking him, cooing at him while both their faces flamed. Visions of Rumlow doing the same with sneer. Visions of Rumlow rolling Bucky over on his stomach while he unzipped his fly. Visions of himself, alone in his room with his hand on his cock after he’d tucked Bucky into bed-
“Do you wanna take your bear?”
Something dark flickered over Bucky’s face.
“Told you,” he answered gruffly. “I don’t need it anymore. Get rid of it, if you want.”
Steve tried not to take that personally. It was stupid to be jealous of the toy, and it was stupider to project himself onto it. No matter what its name was. He nodded at Bucky and moved aside to let him leave. His heart lurched when the door shut behind him.
He didn’t get rid of the bear.