Intertwined

The Young Ones

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I shoot up in my bed with my heart racing and a thin layer cold sweat covering me. The ghost of hands still present as the nightmare slowly fades from my mind. My clock is blaring 2:27am, and I know how hard it will be to go back to sleep now.

It's been a few days since everyone returned. The days have been spent with everyone designing their rooms, settling in, and deciding on how training will go. There has been time for everyone to get acquainted, and we are all starting to find our rhythm. I've been spending a good amount of time with Bucky, which has really set off teasing from everyone. I can't deny the feelings that are building. Thankfully, the youngest ones are coming today when the sun is up, so I will be able to spend a lot of time with them.

"I need water," I sigh, swinging my legs over the side of my bed. In the next moment, I am out of my room and heading to the kitchen. The soft glow of lights at the bottom of the floor helping guide my way.

It takes a few minutes to reach the kitchen, as an elevator ride is required. The soft glow of a single lightbulb illuminates the room just enough for me to see what I need. When I do make it to where I am going, I am shocked to see that someone else is already there: Bucky.

He's gripping onto the edge of the counter like his life depends on it, and he's looking down at the ground as he leans over. His hair is disheveled like he just got out of a fight. He is focused on controlling his breathing, which must mean that something has tortured him just like me.

I've read Bucky's file, and Steve has told me about the nightmares that have begun to plague him since escaping Hydra. From my understanding, he's getting better, but that doesn't mean he doesn't get terrifying images while he sleeps every so often. He's been broken so many times. It breaks my heart.

I shuffle closer, keeping a decent amount of distance between us in case he lashes out. "Bucky," I gently whisper.

The man slowly looks up at me; his eyes slightly puffy from the crying he must have done earlier. "Doll?"

"Yes, it's me," I softly smile. I've come to love the nickname that Bucky only uses for me. It makes me feel special, and lord knows I need to feel that sometimes. There's no way that I would complain that a handsome man has deemed me worthy of the flirty word. "Are you okay?"

"Now or all the time?" He chokes out a sad laugh.

"Bucky," I pout, walking around to stand next to him. No longer afraid that he will start swinging. "You had a nightmare, right?"

He looks away, a redness rising to his cheeks like I've embarrassed him. "You look quite comfy. Do you always wear something like that to bed?"

My eyebrows furrow together as I look down at my pajamas: an oversized t-shirt with Mario characters on it and soft black booty shorts. "I mean, mostly until winter, yeah," I look back up to see Bucky still not looking at me. He's in a dark t-shirt and grey sweats, which looks amazing on him. Then it clicks that he's not used to girls showing this much skin. A lot can change in 70 years. "Oh, Bucky, I'm so sorry," I reach out, placing my hands on his metal arm. "I didn't even think about it, but I also didn't know you would be down here. It's okay for you to look though. I'm not shy about my body."

He slowly turns his head back, but his eyes stay locked on mine. "Why did you come down?"

"I think I asked you first," I smirk, pulling my hands away.

"It was a nightmare, yeah," he takes a deep breath. "Just me hurting those close to me, so I needed to get up and walk around. Maybe get a drink."