Saving Bucky (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Chapter 56 - Sleepy Secrets

"St...stop...p-please...no."

Low murmurs from nearby pull you from your sleep as a hot, slick body behind yours twitches and writhes.

"Hurts...it hurts."

James' terrified whimpers send adrenaline coursing through your body. You're immediately awake, hyper aware of your surroundings. Still on the small couch beside him, your bodies are so close to each other that you can feel the sweat beading on his neck and chest as it drips onto your own skin despite the cold, late autumn air. 

As he thrashes, the blanket is torn from your body. It wraps itself around James - his arms, his legs, his neck. The tighter it tangles, the greater his panic grows. A strangled cry is torn from James' throat as he lurches, nearly sending you flying off the couch. But you manage to hold on to the cushion, resisting his push. Turning on your side to face him you find his eyes still closed, face contorted into one of horror. Fear. Tears leak from the corners of his eyes as his breathing grows ragged. 

James is having a nightmare. 

You lift your hand to reach for him but quickly pull it away, remembering the events at the old house. Remembering James' warning. One try. 

You glance towards the door, your instinct to run nearly overwhelming. Flashes of the safehouse dance through your head. The taste of insulation, the pain in your body as you had laid in a broken ball on the floor. You wonder if you should leave - give him space - until another pained cry forces itself from James' lips. Frozen, you find yourself unable, and unwilling, to move away. That urge to flee suddenly morphed into an urge to calm. So instead, as James continues to writhe and whimper, you start to hum. Quiet and low. Soft. That same song you both seem to find comfort in. The one James knows from long ago. And the one you can't seem to fully remember. 

The moment the first note sings out through your closed lips, James brow furrows. As if on instinct his body turns towards you, eyes still closed. Still asleep. His breathing slows in time with your song, until the twitches in his shoulders stop, and his hands lay still.

"Knew...knew him," he mumbles, thick tongued. His body settled, but his brow still furrowed tight. 

Keeping calm, you too close your eyes, breathing through your nose between notes as you hum sleepily to  yourself and your soldier. After a moment James stills completely. But his lips still move, strange grunts and slurred sounds that almost sound like words spill through. Occasionally, you catch one coherent enough to make sense.

"Becca didn't know...there...m'kay," he mumbles. "I'll go, ma."

You smile gently, eyes closed as you lie still, letting your humming die down and away. Several quiet seconds persist between his grumblings. But mentions of Rebecca are better than the pleading from moments prior. 

"No," James suddenly barks if a muddled whisper. "Not good f'ya punk."

You bite back a snicker, recognizing the scold. In the long car ride away from the Hold, James had shared a few stories from long ago. Including some about the times he had caught Steve trying to clean their shared apartment. James would scold him, reminding him the chemicals weren't good for his asthma. James had smiled as he told that story - recalling how he'd have to fight a scrawny Steve for the scrub brushes and bleach to get the charcoal stains leftover from Steve's sketches off the countertops.

Suddenly a cold, metal arm lands heavy across your stomach as you lay on your back. 

"Y/n."

Caught off guard by hearing your name, your pulse stumbles. You turn your chin to look at James, who is still fast asleep. But in his sleep he pulls you closer. You stifle a gasp as he slides you several inches into his side, burying his face in your neck and inhaling deeply. His metal arm is heavy across your waist, and in his sleep he's rolled slightly on top of you. But you dare not move - out of fear of waking him and because that warm little seedling in your chest seems to grow in feeling his weight atop you.

"S'good," he mumbles, nuzzling into your hair. "Love you."

And your heart stops. 

Your mouth is suddenly dry as you lay frozen in shock. The heat from James body beside you is gone - you can no longer feel it. Not with how cold the blood runs in your veins. 

What...what did he just say?

You wonder for a moment - hope for a moment - that you've misheard him. But suddenly a soft sigh from the soldier has his lips gracing your neck as he starts mumbling once more, his words clearly imprinted on your skin.

"S'okay, Y/n...safe now...love you."

James lets out a heavy sigh, mumbling incoherently once or twice more before he begins to snore softly, sending little puffs of warm air across your cheek. But you're focused less on his breathing, and more on your own as it threatens to cease all together, stuck in somewhere deep inside your chest.

Love?

No. James can't love you. Because love isn't real. 

But the belief in it is. 

And that belief is dangerous. 

Steve was right, in a way. The belief in love is like rust. It's corrosive. You've seen how it can be used to deceive. To lie. You've used it yourself against your informants. It's a weakness. And a vulnerability. Sharper and more precise than any razorblade you've wielded, using love against an adversary had always been the easiest, and surest, way to manipulate someone. 

You had never needed your knife when your informant had believed they loved someone.

You glance down at James - sleeping on his stomach, his cheek on your shoulder with his nose buried in your neck. His hair is still sweaty, matted in damp curls on the back of his neck. But his brow is no longer furrowed - the ghosts of whatever terror haunted his dreams vanished. 

That warmth in your chest suddenly aches. Twisting and knotting - gnarled into something ugly and painful. It cuts - sharper than you've ever felt it before. And tears suddenly well in your eyes as you let out a sharp exhale as a realization dawns.

James can't be vulnerable. You won't let him. 

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, letting the rhythmic rise and fall of James' chest against your own lull you back towards sleep. Your pulse slows and your resolve clears as each breath you take in time with James settles you in your intent. 

You know what you have to do come morning.