This Is Stella's Reality

October 4, 2014

Autumn's cool touch had grasped the compound in a hard chill. I laid in my bed, cuddled under mountains of pillows and blankets, but I needed something hot to melt the freeze that stuck to my bones.

It was late, well, early. Tony had called me at 5am, waking me from sleep. It was 2am in California, and he was drunk, wanting to talk nonsense. Happy had taken his phone away from him, apologizing profusely, Pepper was yelling in the background. I was glad Tony thought highly enough of me to want to talk while shit faced. I laughed at the memory.

Another chill ran up my spine. Tea sounds good. Reluctantly, I stood from my bed, my feet hitting the cold floor. Making my way towards the kitchen, I heard soft conversation coming from the living room TV. Someone was awake, but it was so early. The only person I thought it could be was Steve, but he'd never sit to watch TV. He usually ran this early in the morning.

I slipped down to the bottom steps. Bucky sat on the couch, miserable and exhausted. His eyes were heavy with sleep, but it had not come yet. He moved his head to look at me, a small smile faint on his lips, "Hey, doll." His voice was weak.

"Bucky? Why are you up still? It's nearly 6am."

He shrugged, "Just can't sleep." It was true, but he evaded the reasons why. I knew he struggled with night terrors. He sighed, "Go back to sleep, doll."

I moved to sit next to him on the couch, "I came to make tea. It's too cold in here." My eyes studied him, noticing the sadness that settled in the lines of his face. I offered him a small smile, "Would you like some?"

He shook his head, tearing his eyes away from me.

I bit my lip, unsure if I should press him. He didn't like talking about his struggles, especially not to me. He said he never wanted me to worry about him. I did, all the time. "Bucky," my voice was a near whisper, "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

His eyes wavered, and water brimmed on his lash line. He wouldn't look at me. A quiet confession tumbled from his lips, "I see their faces in my dreams. The people Hydra sent me after. I haven't forgotten them."

My heart ached, burning with fury that Bucky felt so despairingly. I reached my hands towards him, unsure of what to say, but knowing I had to do something, for both our sake.

Wordlessly, he leaned his head into my lap, and I combed my fingers through his hair. His eyes shut, creasing his eyelids with effort. He looked so tired. My throat felt as if it was closing.

I stared down at him. I couldn't even begin to comprehend the layers of pain he had. Hydra will pay, one way or another. I knew Steve was restless about this too.

Bucky needed support, so I breathed, relaxing my tense shoulders. "Can I braid your hair?"

He huffed a laugh, "Sure, doll." I knew he wanted a distraction despite being too proud to say it.

His hair was shorter now, not as long and easy to braid as his long hair would be, but the action was relaxing enough. It was soft, plush under my fingers. I twisted his curls between my fingers. Small, tight braids laid haphazardly through his hair. The creases in his eyes relaxed. His mouth was slightly open and calm breaths fell from his lips.

"Are you sure you don't secretly put products in your hair when I'm not looking?

A slight chuckle shook his shoulders, "What?"

"Like a mask or a leave-in-conditioner."

"Doll, I don't know what that is."

I smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. He breathed a laugh, humming as my nose rubbed his. My voice was a whisper, "Has Steve come downstairs yet?"