THE SOLDIER & THE SHIELD, stucky

03

BUCKY LET OUT A LONG breath as he turned his head and scanned the bright room slowly, lazily. He opened his mouth a few times, flexing his stiff jaw before he spoke.

"Steve?" His voice was hoarse, throat dry. He wondered how long it had been since the last time he'd been awake. "Why am I... what are you doing?"

Steve stepped closer as one of the doctors offered Bucky a small paper cup and another one unstrapped him from the cryotube. He took the cup graciously and sucked down the contents in one quick gulp. He took Steve's outstretched hand reluctantly, using it as support as he stepped down onto the cold tile floor. He leaned heavily on Steve's arm for a moment as his legs and head adjusted.

"What happened?" Buck asked softly as he took a step back. "Why am I awake?"

Bucky looked around the room carefully. There was an armchair, an end table, and a lamp. Steve had been visiting and by the looks of it, he'd been visiting a lot and staying for long periods of time.

Steve blew out a long breath, his brows furrowed. "I wanted to ask if you'd changed your mind yet," he said, eyes down."Have they figured something out? To get them out of my head?" Bucky inquired hopefully, trying desperately to make eye contact. "Steve."

"No." Steve huffed before he turned away forcefully. The doctors gave him a wide berth and eventually cleared out of the room completely. "No, there hasn't been... any progress. At all. Nothing."

Bucky stared blankly at the back of Steve's, irritation sprouting in the pit of his stomach.

"Then what are we doing? Why are you doing this to yourself?"

Steve slammed his hand down on the metal counter in front of him. He squeezed his eyes shut against the lingering stares of the doctors peering through the glass walls. They always stared when he came. Sometimes it was less obvious, but they were always there and Steve was always acutely aware of them.

"I just..." he strained as he studied the dent he'd left in the countertop and gently traced it with his fingertips. "I want you to come back."

"I know." Bucky didn't move from where he was planted. "Don't you think I know that? I don't..." He drew in a long breath. "You think I like this?"

"No!" Steve's voice broke and his shoulders sank. He braced himself against the dented counter, chest heaving. "No... I just want you... I want you to come back. Come home. We can—I'll take care of everything else. I can't... I can't do this anymore."

—

"Why Buchanan?"

"Hmm?" Steve turned his head toward Bucky.

It was still dark outside. Neither of them were sure why they were awake. They had quickly dozed off after a long night of watching Sam get drunk, but now they laid next to each other, hazy and drifting.

"Grounding..." Bucky trailed off, losing his train of thought as his brain attempted to force itself back into unconsciousness. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stay on track.

"Couple weeks ago..." he said, "...when you were grounding." He waved his metal hand, as if that would help Steve, who had closed his eyes again, understand what he was trying to say.

"Rogers, Steven G. Your parents, James Buchanan," he sniffed as he tried to rub the sleep from his itchy eyes. "You were spelling out Buchanan. Why?"

Steve mumbled a sleepy "I dunno," into the crook of his own arm that was draped over his face.

"C'mon," Bucky said with a sluggish laugh. He felt Steve shrug against the bed before he rolled over until his face was in Bucky's left armpit.