Stucky One Shots

Number Twenty- Won't Hurt

June 23, 2014

"This won't hurt," Alexander Pierce assures Bucky, pressing a needle into his neck. The brunette thrashes and growls angrily, he struggles against the restraints but grows weaker as the drug sinks into his blood. He slumps into his seat, the restraints dug into his wrists and ankles. Pierce pulls back and drops the needle into the garbage, he brushes his hands off before walking out. Bucky struggles weakly, pulling against the restraints. He'd been a prisoner of war for over four weeks now, but it felt like much longer for him. His entire regiment, 107, had all been taken hostage in Afghanistan. As far as he knew, he was one of the only ones still alive. He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to hold on.

///
"This won't hurt," he was assured as the whip came down on his back. "This won't hurt," he was promised when they pumped drugs into his system and very nearly drowned him. "This won't hurt, Winter," they growled like animals as his head was put through torture and brainwashing. And true, nothing hurt after that, at least, nothing he could care about or remember. They brainwashed him, turned him into their little weapon, and worst of all, he hardly spoke to anyone. They would pay.

///

May 30, 2016.

Bucky walks the bustling streets of New York quietly, his hands shoved deep in his coat pockets. Someone shove past him roughly and he hunches closer, hugging his arms to himself. Another person races by and this time he's knocked to the ground as he loses his balance.

"I'm so, so sorry, are you okay, sir?" A voice asks, sounding a little panicked. Bucky shakily stands up and nods. He wraps his arms around himself and squeezes his eyes closed as a flashback comes out of nowhere.

"Won't hurt, Winter,"

Bucky whines a little and the stranger was looking alarmed now. The brunette grabs at his head and he was drawing attention to himself now from the people milling about the gigantic city.

"Hey, hey, you're okay, calm down," the stranger tries, doing what he can to calm him. The brunette turns away from him, hunched up tightly.

"No, stop, it hurts," he whimpers and the stranger pauses, frowning a little. A redhead starts pushing her way through the gathering crowd and elbowed past.

"James, shh, shh, where are you?" She asks softly in her Russian accent. Bucky doesn't answer, just starts muttering in Russian himself. She kneels beside him and looks around at the crowd, she shoots them all a collective glare and slowly, muttering under their breaths, the crowd disperses, save for the stranger.

"Will he be okay?" He asks worriedly, his eyes fixed on the trembling brunette. The redhead raises her head to look at him and tilts her head.

"He should be. Who're you?" She asks, her sharp green eyes studying him.

"My name's Steve," he replies. She nods and turns back to Bucky.

"Shh, you're okay, James. Where are you?" She asks softly again.

"S-scared," he replies, sucking in a sharp breath and the redhead gently puts a hand on his shoulder.

"I know. You're in New York, remember? America? It's 2016," she explains and he slowly starts to relax. She glances at Steve and jerks her head away. He gets the hint and leaves, thinking hard about what he'd just seen.

///

"His name was Steve. You remember him?" Nat, the redhead asks, and James nods a little.

"Nice," he says quietly and she nods in agreement.

///

They bumped into each other again; literally. Steve again apologized a whole bunch and Bucky didn't speak much, but he was starting to like the obviously clumsy blonde. Over time they grew into friends, then into more than that. Nat and Steve became friends, and Bucky and Steve loved each other. Sometimes, though, Bucky had flashbacks and wouldn't trust Steve at all.

///

"What'd you do now?" Steve sighs, looking over the dirty, bruised brunette. Bucky shrugs a shoulder.

"Fight," he replies simply. He'd never really gotten perfect speech or grammar back after his capture. Too much trauma, apparently. Steve sighs and gets a band-aid for a cut going across Bucky's cheek.

"Okay, hold still, this won't hurt," Steve assures and Bucky's eyes widen. He scrambles back, feeling panic closing in on him. No, not Steve, he couldn't be one as well, not him. Anyone but him.

"No, no, no, no, no!" He cries, curling up tightly and beginning to shake. Steve backs up and puts his hands up, dropping the band-aid quickly.

"Don't hurt. Don't hurt me," Bucky whispers shakily, a small sob escaping him. Steve stares at him before it dawns on him.

"I would never hurt you, Bucky," Steve whispers, keeping his hands up as if to show him he isn't holding anything. Bucky scooches backwards a little and swallows, his eyes wide and brimming with tears. "I'm sorry." Steve whispers and Bucky swallows again. He slowly, shakily leans forward and sits silently. Steve takes a few cautious steps forward to him and Bucky leans back a little, so Steve freezes. It was like approaching a scared, wild animal.

Steve stoops down and picks up the band-aid, then makes sure to show Bucky what it was he held. He gently puts it on the cut and Bucky breathes out, he leans into Steve's touch and the blonde sighs.

"Thank you," Bucky mumbles, wrapping his arms around him. Steve runs a hand through his hair and smiles softly.

"No problem, Buck," he whispers, hugging him back gently.