Stucky One Shots

I Trust You, I Think

Steve was used to Bucky following him around. It happened all the time during the forties, so that wasn't new. No, what had disturbed him was when Bucky followed so closely, so silently, and it had made him uneasy.

There were small things like that that he was still trying to deal with.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Bucky, exactly. He trusted him with his life, and he had proved that again and again. It was just that a part of him, a very small part, occasionally felt the gunshot wounds hurt. Occasionally alarm bells went off if Bucky and he, when rough housing, hit just a little too hard. Occasionally, if he looked into his eyes, they looked masked, hooded, and empty. Like Bucky wasn't himself anymore.

He hadn't even known where to begin when, every time they were in a room just the two of them, Bucky had instinctively given him a knife. Steve asked why once, and all he got as a response was quick Russian that he didn't understand. That was during the first couple weeks. It was later he found out that Bucky had been trained to arm anybody he felt was even slightly above him -- Captain America, for example -- so that, if needed, they could take him out.

There was still a lot Steve couldn't handle properly.

There was still progress to be made, for both of them.

////

Bucky tackles Steve to the ground, grinning. Steve and he begin to wrestle, as they usually do.

"That all you got, punk?" Bucky breathes as he's pinned to the floor. Steve smirks at him. Bucky kicks the back of his knee and rolls him over, flicking his brown hair out of his face. "Ha."

Steve slides out from between his legs and gets to his feet. Bucky does the same, bouncing a little. He swings a punch and a kick and Steve dodges, then attacks in his own style.

The two spar for minutes longer. Bucky backs Steve into a corner and that familiar fear starts to creep up Steve's back, warning him that his best friend is, whether he likes it or not, dangerous. He ignores this, telling himself that Bucky couldn't hurt him.

Sidetracked by his thoughts, that's exactly what he does. Bucky swings a punch that Steve doesn't stop in time. He punches him across the face with his metal hand, right below the eye, and Steve's head smacks against the wall with the force. He hadn't held back.

Bucky instantly backs down, eyes wide, the feeling too familiar, making him feel sick.

"Oh, s***! Steve, I'm so so sorry!" He panics and steps closer, and Steve finds himself shying away and cupping his head, mentally bracing himself for another hit. Bucky falters back, watching him with wide eyes.

"Don't, I'm fine," Steve speaks after a moment, rubbing his face and slowly straightening up. Bucky swallows and looks at the ground, guilt eating at his core. The silence thickens and Steve doesn't dare break it.

"You're scared of me, aren't you?"

Steve says nothing, unsure of his answer. Bucky stares at him, blinking hard. "You're honestly scared of me? I - I didn't mean to -- "

"No." Steve shakes his head. Bucky takes another step backwards.

He looks down at his hands, his stomach dropping as he notices a speck of blood glinting on the metal of his hand. His mind betrays him, showing him memories of him punching Steve senseless in that helicarrier. A small part of him feels betrayed that Steve would think that he'd hurt him, but the other part agrees. He had hurt him. The proof was standing in front of him.

Bucky turns and begins running, and Steve runs after him. "Bucky!"

////

Bucky bolts through the front door and out onto the street, adrenaline kicking in. He starts running - he didn't know where to go, just away from there.

He sprints between cars, dodges around civilians, and hurdles garbage cans and newspaper stands. He runs until he reaches the water's edge, and there he paces, his mind whirling.

The sky goes dark and Bucky sits down heavily on the pier, staring out into the murky water. He glances at his metal arm and a wave of nausea hits him. This thing, this weapon; he wanted to get rid of it. Frustration rises within him and he grits his teeth.

The small irrational part of his panicked mind wins out again. After several futile attempts at removing the entire thing, Bucky leaves it be, ignoring the blood dripping down the metal from where he had tried to pry it from his shoulder.

////

Steve races to the water after combing the city, checking Bucky's favourite hiding places. He finds him sitting on the pier that they usually walked to. He was huddled up and didn't look like he was going to run any more.

Steve runs over and kneels next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "God, Buck, I looked everywhere, and I couldn't -- " He stops when he realises that Bucky isn't responding. He sits beside him instead, and waits.

"So. I really am a monster," Bucky croaks. Steve goes to interject and Bucky gestures to his left arm. "Won't come off. Tried for a while." Steve's heart breaks when he notices the trail of blood.

"Buck..."

"I hurt you. I can't believe I hurt you again," he mutters, dropping his face in his hands.

"No, I'm sorry, it was my fault, okay? I overreacted."

Bucky narrows his eyes, risking a glance up at him. "I punched you in the face."

"Only once. I'm fine, see?" There was a small bruise and a cut, and his head ached a little where he'd hit it, but he had had worse. Steve watches him quietly and Bucky stares back out into the water. Steve sighs a little. "After the Winter Soldier incident, part of my idiot brain decided..."

"That I was a threat, and you reacted accordingly," Bucky says softly. Steve says nothing. "Look, if you don't want to see me or anything anymore, I'll understand."

"No way. You're stuck with me, okay?" He pauses, studying him. "I trust you."

Bucky frowns, not looking convinced. "I swear I don't want to hurt you, Steve. I would never in my right mind..." He swallows thickly.

"I know that, I know. It isn't your fault, I promise," Steve says. Bucky stares at his lap.

"How long," he asks quietly. "How long has it been like this?"

Steve hesitates. "A couple months," he answers truthfully. Bucky sinks lower, pulling at his hair. He swallows.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbles and Steve shakes his head.

"It isn't your fault," he repeats, making Bucky look at him. Bucky remains silent. "Will you come back home with me? Please?"

He looks at Steve's outstretched hand, then up at him. Steve gives him an encouraging smile, a small one. Bucky sighs and takes his hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

Bucky pauses again, hesitantly lifting a hand. Steve stops too, watching him. Bucky reaches out and gently strokes a thumb over Steve's bruise. Steve relaxes a little, still marveling at how Bucky's arm, made for destroying, could also be so gentle.

"I'm sorry," Bucky mutters again, for what felt like the millionth time. Steve shakes his head as Bucky moves his hand down again.

"Don't be."

He starts walking again, and Bucky follows along after him. Steve wraps an arm around his shoulders and Bucky relaxes, finding himself giving a weary smile.

They still had a ways to go, but they were slowly learning, slowly healing, slowly getting over what they'd gone through. They learned to trust each other again.

////

So I figured, a lot of people have fears that occur when they've dealt with a bad situation. For example, if a dog bites someone and they're then after afraid of dogs.

I don't know, just something I wanted to try. :)

(Also: two updates in like three days? Wow. I gotta say, guys, I'm a little bit proud. :) )