In the deep

Do I make you nervous?

_______________________
The next morning you woke alone in your bed, you couldn't help but wonder how long did Bucky stay with you. Was it inappropriate that you had asked him to stay? If it was you already knew you could blame it on your panic attack and that you weren't thinking clearly.

Getting involved with Bucky was a distraction that you didn't need no matter how soft his lips were or the way it made you feel when he called you doll. Having the breakthrough of discovering the lack of proteins in your mothers brain was what you needed to focus on.

Sitting up in bed you took long deep breaths trying to shake Bucky from your thoughts you needed to get your shit together.

Proteins...proteins... you repeated absentmindedly in your head. Allowing the image of your mother's neurological nerve pattern enter into your mind. Fully letting go of the image of you cuddled up onto Bucky's chest.

Falling back onto the bed stretching out all of your stiff limbs, your fingertips grazed across a piece of paper that was placed onto the pillows next to your spot. Rolling over to it, you grabbed it and unfolded the piece of paper to see Bucky's handwriting.

Damn him....

The way his letters looped across the paper reminded you of documents you had seen from the Second World War, his handwriting was old school, like he was. But it was beautiful.

Training with Steve. Take it easy.
B.B.

I mean it, take it easy doll.

It's like he already knew you were rolling your eyes to him. You were a combat veteran who had seen war and took out six men single-handily last night, a bump on the head and cut feet weren't going to slow you down. Not even with a note from an assassin telling you otherwise.

Even if it was cute the way he took care of you, rushed to your side, carried you upstairs. You couldn't remember a time where someone had taken care of you like that or even cared so much. Your mother was sick for most of your life and you knew she couldn't control it. But being in that kind of situation as a child you learn to start to worry about yourself and taking care of yourself and her.

At twelve you were doing her taxes at the beginning of each year. Anything to make sure the state wouldn't find out that she was unfit to take care of you. You'd have locks all over the house to make sure that she wouldn't get into the cabinets with knives or figure out where her car keys were while you were at school. But then some days you'd wake up and your mother was completely lucid in the kitchen making you pancakes before school.

The number one thing your mother's sickness taught you was how to be independent and prepare for anything.

Though you weren't prepared for the way Bucky would look at you while he was taking care of your wounds. Or the way he cradled you against his chest after he picked you up off the chair. They way his personality began to shift after having his memories fully back. You weren't prepared for the way it made you feel when he pulled you up on this chest. The contentment it brought. The security it brought.

Swinging your feet wide off the bed you pushed Bucky from your mind and cursed yourself for allowing him back in it.

Proteins.....proteins....you repeated in your head while you brushed your teeth and changed into different clothing carefully not too put too much pressure on the bottoms of your feet.

Waddling down the stairs making sure you kept a large portion of weight on the railing as you searched the hallways for your slippers. At some point the night before you had slipped them off during battle but for the life of you, you couldn't remember where.