Stucky One Shots (Requests Open)

Drunk

Summary: Bucky comes home drunk and says things he doesn't mean

Steve never had a problem with Bucky drinking, he didn't do it often. He only did it when he was out with his friends. Sometimes Steve would tag along, only if he wasn't busy. But he never let him stop Bucky from having fun.

Steve was peacefully sketching a little drawing in his notebook, trying to find inspiration to draw his new art piece. Steve's an artist, a really good one in fact. Lately, he hasn't had any inspiration. He sat there drawing absentmindedly until inspiration struck.

He raced over to his art room and grabbed a new canvas. Once the first stroke of his brush was done, it was like he became a machine.

After an hour, almost 2, he finished. It wasn't something extravagant, it was plain and simple, but still getting the story behind it. He took a step back to look at what he's accomplished and a proud feeling erupted from within.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the door open. Soon stumbled in Bucky. "Are you drunk?" Steve asked.

Instead of answering Bucky kept walking. "Hey, I'm talking to you!" He shouted as Bucky walked back to where Steve was.

"So what if I'm drunk? You got a problem?" Bucky spat while taking another drink from the alcohol bottle he held in his hand. Steve knew he was deeply intoxicated, only because he's an angry drunk when he's had way too many.

"Maybe you should take a break from drinking." Bucky only furrowed his eyebrows,"You are definitely not the boss of me, so don't try to tell me what to do."

"Buck, I only want to help. You've had too much to drink." Steve tried to inch his hand towards the bottle, but it only received an angrier Bucky.

"You don't get to control my life! I will drink as much as I want!" He yelled. "I'm sick and tired of you controlling me Steve. You're so fucking clingy and when I do need you, you're always working on your stupid art!" Then Bucky lifted the hand that was holding the bottle and threw it right at Steve's canvas, making a gaping hole in the middle of Steve's art work.

Steve stared at it in devastated. "It was awful anyways, you shouldn't stick to art Steve." Bucky spat and walked away.

Steve knew he didn't mean it, but it did hurt a whole lot still. He grabbed what was left of the canvas while letting some tears slip out. His work, gone. Just like that. He set it back on the easel, not caring about it anymore. Not even paying attention to the broken alcohol bottle spilling all over the floor. He didn't care about art at the moment. He didn't care about anything.

Bucky's words meant the most to him and even though he was beyond drunk, he must've meant some of it. Drunk words are sober thoughts after all. Steve exited the room, wiping the few tears that rolled down his cheeks and found Bucky passed out on their bed. Steve didn't really want to be near him at all, so he just fell asleep on the couch.

-

When Steve woke, even though he was still mad at Bucky, it didn't stop him from leaving water and something for the headache he will get when he wakes up. After that, he went back into his art room looking at the destroyed canvas.

The more he looked at it, the uglier it got and the more Steve's thoughts corrupted his mind. It kept leaning towards what Bucky said last night. Maybe he was right. The sadness was overtaken with anger, as Steve furrowed his eyebrows he knocked over the easel not caring about the loud sound it made.

"Steve." A voice from behind him pulled him away from his thoughts. "What do you want?" He spoke harshly. "Do you even remember anything from last night? Or were you too drunk to remember?" Steve pushed passed him.

"Yes, I remember what I said. Steve, I'm so sorry about your art. I'm so sorry about all the things I said. I shouldn't have said them." Bucky went to grab Steve's hand, but he pulled it away without looking at Bucky's eyes. "Did you mean what you said?" Steve asked still avoiding eye contact.

Bucky could see he was on the verge of tears, the memories from last night overwhelmed him. The hurt he felt, the sadness, the anger all came back to him again.

"No, I didn't. I promise I didn't. I'm so sorry darling. Please don't stop drawing because of me. It wasn't awful, you're such an amazing artist Steve. I'm so sorry for what I said. Please look at me love." Steve slowly lifted his head to meet his eyes. As Bucky kept apologizing he walked slowly to Steve, he cautiously wrapped his arms around him as Steve as he buried his face in Bucky's shoulder letting out a couple more tears.

Bucky pulled apart first. "I'm so sorry." He kept repeating and reassuring Steve that his art is indeed amazing as is his talent.

"Are you mad?" Bucky hesitantly asked. "I was, but I know you didn't mean it." Steve sighed. "I'm sorry darling."