This was pretty hard to write. Hope you all like it!



They piled out of Sam’s car with a shout of thanks and little else. Steve just about caught Sam’s wry smile before Bucky was tugging at his wrist, pulling him on towards their apartment like a juggernaut.

Steve was still flushed, still full of adrenaline high, and a single glance at Bucky told him that he was exactly the same. Because it’d been close. Not the closest it’d ever been, Christ no, but still.

They’d checked in with each other on the field, in the car, running hands over limbs, checking for breaks or blood. But it hadn’t been enough, not to satisfy Steve.

Not Bucky either, by the looks of him.

No sooner had they got the door open than Bucky dragged him into a kiss. He could taste the tang of blood dried against Bucky’s lip. Felt the thrill of the dread that had settled deep in his gut.

He pulled away. “When you went down-“

“Didn’t stay down.” Bucky kissed him again, tugging at his lip, and trying to strip away the top of his suit, laughing when he couldn’t. “I’m fine.”

Steve smiled too, managed to get the suit away from his shoulders. “We oughta shower.”

Bucky clicked his tongue, dropping his jacket to the floor with a thud that said there were several weapons still secreted within it.

“Oughta be naked, Rogers. Less chit chat.”

Steve didn’t need telling twice.

Their clothes were left in a heap by the door, as Steve started walking Bucky back towards the sofa, working kisses down his throat.

Bucky huffed again. “Bedroom, champ. Slick it up.”

Steve couldn’t help but snort.

“Don’t laugh at me, punk. Tryin to get you worked up.”

Steve kissed him in apology. “It’s working, don’t worry.”

It was as well as, between the adrenaline crash and Bucky just, well, being Bucky, Steve was more worried about being able to make it as far as the bed.

He pulled away, practically dragged Bucky forward. He fumbled in the drawer at the side of their bed and by the time he turned around, Bucky was already on all fours on the comforter.

“Jesus, Buck.”

Bucky was watching him over his shoulder, smirk on his face that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

Steve got himself ready, dropped a kiss onto the small of Bucky’s back and edged a couple of fingers inside. Bucky barely needed anything, muscles still relaxed from… Christ, it must only have been that morning.

“That alright?”

He had to look up to see Bucky’s nod, stilted by his fist between his teeth. He’d taken to doing that recently.

Did it mean he was close?

Steve bit his lip and didn’t ask. Bucky didn’t like it. Less talk, more action, he’d say, and Steve had pissed him off enough at the start of all this.

Well, if he was close, that didn’t bother Steve one bit. This was definitely going to be a sprint finish.

He withdrew his fingers, and lined his cock up. He met pretty much no resistance at all.

“Oh fuck, Bucky... Jesus.”

He started moving, couldn’t help it. He tried to keep to the pace Bucky seemed to like. Harder than he usually liked it, but right now he wasn’t complaining. He was hitched up with his knee on the bed, trying to get as close as possible and being frustrated by the position.

He wanted all of Bucky. He wanted everything.

He leaned down to kiss against Bucky’s back.

And opened his eyes.

All of Bucky's muscles were taught. That wasn't odd in itself. It was often difficult to... Bucky didn't always….

But Bucky had his eyes buried in his elbow. His shoulders were shaking.
The realisation hit him all at once.

"Bucky?" He pulled back, met with a sharp gasp. "Buck?"

There wasn't any answer. Bucky just propped himself up on his elbows are kept crying into his hands.

Steve staggered back. He didn't know what to do, whether to touch him. Every instinct wanted to just gather him up, but he didn't know what this was. What had set it off.

Bucky was completely silent, just his slightly wet breaths in to give him away. His shoulders hitched and that broke through all of Steve's resolve.

He stumbled forward, climbing up onto the bed and laying a hand tentatively on his back. When he didn't flinch away, he started rubbing against Bucky's back. "What's wrong? What is it?"

Bucky just leaned into his leg. "Hurts, Stevie."

"What?"
Steve's heartrate shot up tenfold, because they must've missed something. Bucky was hurt bad. Must be hurt real bad, and it was his fault, he didn't notice. Why didn’t they see a medic? He didn't...

Steve dropped his hand to Bucky’s ribs, where the flesh was just beginning to bruise. Down onto his stomach. Bucky didn’t flinch.

"Bucky?" Steve brushed his hair back, tugged at him until he looked up. Running over the smears of blood on his face. "Did you hit your head? Where are you hurt? Buck?"

Bucky didn’t answer, just ducked his head again, hitched himself up until he was practically laying in Steve’s lap.

And a sudden awful thought entered Steve’s head. He flicked the sheet over them both, ineffectively, but enough to cover Bucky up. “Do you mean… Did I..?”

He was stroking at the back of Bucky’s neck and he felt the tension flood through him.

“It’s not you.” Bucky looked up, all apologies and red rimmed eyes.
“It’s not your… Ah, fuck. I never meant…” He dropped again, squirmed his hands beneath Steve’s back. “I’m sorry.”

Steve was automatically patting at him. “Why didn’t you stop me? Why didn’t you… Is it bad? Lemme see.”

He leaned forward and Bucky flinched. It was almost nothing. Over and gone in a heartbeat, a reflex caught and stopped.

But Steve saw it.

And he was pretty sure a little piece of him shrivelled up and died.

“But… you always… Why wouldn’t you say something?”

Bucky didn’t answer, and a sudden anger flooded through him, thinking of all those nights. And all that silence.

He pulled Bucky up. “How many times? How many times did you just lay there and let me..?”

He couldn’t finish. Couldn’t let that thought out into the air, where it’d be given substance.

Bucky looked away.

Steve felt suddenly sick. He couldn’t… He had to get out…

He shoved Bucky off, stood up.

“Stevie!” Bucky made a grab for his hand. He shrugged him off. “Stevie, please.”

He didn’t look round. Didn’t stop until he got to their bathroom and locked the door behind him.

***

He realised he’d been stood staring at the tiling for the longest time, hands pressed over his mouth. Because he should’ve known. How could he not know?

Bucky was always so quiet. He never… He thought of a thousand times when he wasn’t sure. He should’ve stopped. Why didn’t he stop?

Steve dropped his hands.

He couldn’t do this now. He felt sticky and wrong and he realised they’d never showered after the fight.

He flicked the shower on and stood beneath the stream of water, until the room misted up and his skin flushed pink.

But he couldn’t stop the whirl of thoughts. Because what kind of man..?

No. He made a deliberate effort to empty his brain. To just not think of it. Without meaning to he found himself running through Sam’s breathing exercises.

Oh.

What would Sam say? What would Sam think of him?

No. Just breathe.

Breathe.

He managed to shower. Managed to avoid just sitting under the stream of water, and by the time he walked back into their bedroom, he’d calmed down… mostly.

Bucky was curled on his side, facing away from him. He made no sign he’d heard Steve come back.

He padded across the room, and slipped in behind him. When he didn’t flinch away, Steve looped an arm over his chest and pressed his face against the back of Bucky’s neck. He smelt of old sweat and smoke, and Steve didn’t give a shit.

There was a moment’s pause before Bucky entwined their fingers, and they lay breathing.

“Are you ok?”

He felt Bucky nod. “S’alright. ‘S nothin, really.”

Steve had to stamp down the flare of anger. It wasn’t useful here. It couldn’t only ever make things worse. It was bad enough how he’d already reacted.

“Can I see?”

Bucky shrugged, the barest of movements. “Nothin to see. I told you. It wasn’t you. I’m just…”

He didn’t finish, but Steve could guessed the end. Fucked up. Broken. They’d had that conversation enough over the last few months. He thought they’d maybe got past it.

Now he doubted they ever would.

“What happened, Buck?”

Another long pause. “Please, don’t make me talk about it. I don’t want that here… Not in our bed.”

He sounded endlessly tired.

Steve kissed the back of his neck in apology.

But he had to know. Had to know one thing. He pulled him closer to his chest and Bucky came back easily. Steve tucked his chin into his shoulder.

“Were you scared I wouldn’t stay? If we didn’t… If you…” Steve’s throat closed up and effectively cut him off. He swallowed tightly.

Bucky sighed, deep and exhausted. “No, Stevie. I just wanted you. I only ever wanted you.”

Steve had to press his face into Bucky’s back, so he wouldn’t let the tears fall.

He pulled himself together and pulled back. “Do you want to shower?”

“No.”

Steve kissed into his hair, sweat damp and musty. “Ok, Buck.”