I Promise.

Wash the pan.

Chapter 10
                    11/16/2001
I've really been slacking in writing this. However, in my defense it's been a lot to handle. Bucky is home, with one less arm. He keeps making jokes about how he's "all right." I asked him to lend me a hand in getting my shirt off during an asthma episode and he told me that he only has one left. I know his jokes are just a facade. At night I hear him. He cries, and cries, and cries. He wakes up every night with a new nightmare. I tried to help him one night, but he told me to fuck off and mind my own business. George's funeral was today. It was a long time from when he died, but he got cremated so it took a while. Everyone keeps stopping by every once in a while. The only person Bucky has really opened up to is Natasha, though. For some reason, he feels really comfortable around her. He opens up to me, but he lets her know what is going on with him. Lately all I've been getting is a "fuck off" or a "go to hell." It kind of hurts. Is this how he felt when I would scream at him when my mom died? I know everything is hard right now, but I'm just trying to help. He's my boyfriend. It's the least I can do. We are planning on going back to school on Monday. I'm not sure how he's going to do in the car ride. We are skipping out on the carpooling and just driving with Mrs. Barnes for now. We want to test the waters with him. On the car ride home from the hospital, he held onto me and started sobbing. He had a giant panic attack just at a simple stop of the breaks at a stop sign. George left Bucky his car in the will, but I'm not so sure he will use it. In fact, Bucky told me just to use it. I immediately turned him down. It's not my car. Besides, the car is gone anyways. I just hope Bucky gets over it. I hate seeing him like this. He's trying to hide how much he misses his old self, but he's doing an awful job of it. He's spending a lot longer in the shower, and he doesn't sleep with his shirt off anymore. I think he thinks that I'll think he's ugly, which can't be further from the truth. I still think he looks like a god among men, and I think everyone would agree with me. Especially with the stubble he has going on right now. It's probably cruel to think he's attractive because he's going through such a rough time, but he looks flawless with the stubble. Okay, this isn't probably cruel; This is cruel. I need to get my mind out of the gutter and get some shut eye. Goodnight, journal.
  Tonight was a record. I got to sleep till 5:00 AM until Bucky started his episodes. He woke up in a cold sweat screaming and crying. I went over to try and soothe him. For a couple minutes he let me, but then all of a sudden he pushed me off and told me to "leave him the fuck alone."
  "What the fuck is your problem? Stop being an asshole and let me help you!" I snapped. It takes a lot to send me over the edge, but the constant "fuck you's" are sending me over the edge.
  "What the fuck is my problem? I lost my fucking arm, if you haven't noticed. I'd really think twice about asking what my fucking problem is, Steven." He snapped back.
  "Oh are we bringing full names into this now? Get your fucking head out of your ass for once, James. I know that's fucking hard for you, but maybe you can try that for once." Now he's really pissing me off.
  "Oh. Sorry that it's not the 'poor pitiful Steve' show right now. I know everything is about you! God fucking forbid I be upset about my own father dying. But yeah, I have my head up my ass. Shove your mother's gravestone up your ass, Rogers." I saw red. Before I knew it, I slapped the piss out of him. After I pulled my hand away from his face, I saw the mark my palm made. It looked like he finally got brought back into reality.
  "Fuck. You." I said in between breaths. There's no way Winnifred didn't hear us, but I don't think she wanted to bring it up. After I finished, I pulled on my shirt and walked out of the door. I made the executive decision to sleep on the couch. I've never slapped Bucky before, but this time he deserved it. I wasn't going to listen to him say that about my mom. He easily could've taken me down with even one arm, but he still didn't. As I was getting settled into the couch, I kept repeating his words in my head. Do I actually have my head shoved up my ass? I don't want to put much thought into it, so I leaned my head into the couch pillows in an attempt to fall asleep. I didn't bring out a blanket, so I was completely shivering but I'm not bringing myself back into that room. I got the last word.
  I woke up around three hours later at about 8:00 AM to rustling in the kitchen. I also woke up to a blanket around me. It's Bucky's favorite, so he must've waited till I fell asleep to give it to me. I turned around on the couch to try and get a view to see who was in the kitchen. It was Mrs. Barnes.
  "He's a tough egg to crack, Steve." She said out loud. She wasn't expecting me to respond, but she knew I was listening. "He loves you more than anything, he's just in a bad place." She explained to me. "I picked up a shift, take care of the house while I'm gone." She walked over to the couch and planted me a kiss on the cheek. "Just so you know, I don't think your head is up your ass." She whispered in my ear. After that, she was out the door. I wrapped the blanket around my body into a cocoon like shape. It smelled like Bucky. Like home. I didn't notice the footsteps rustling around on the ceiling above me while I was talking to Mrs. Barnes. This probably means Bucky is awake, or that he hasn't slept. I flipped over on my right side so that he wouldn't see my face while coming down the stairs. I didn't want him to see me. I'm ashamed of myself. I should never have hit him. Apparently this somewhat works, because he walks down the stairs and doesn't say a word. He probably thinks I'm still asleep, which I have to admit, I was dozing off a bit again. I then heard him approach me from behind and I felt him plant a kiss on the back of my head. He rubbed my back and just mumbled,
  "I love you." Into my ear. There's definitely no way that he knows I'm awake. The kiss he gave me sent shivers down my spine. That was the most contact he's given me since he'd come back. He's also never told me that he's loved me before. Before I know it, I'm dozing off yet again.
  This time I woke up at 10:25 AM to the sounds of Bucky snoring on the recliner. This is the first time he's slept in a while. I definitely wasn't waking him up. I then decided on going upstairs, using the bathroom, washing my face, and brushing my teeth. By the time I came back from doing my morning rituals, Bucky was awake again.
  "I'm sorry." I said as I was coming down the stairs.
  "Wow. Straight to the point." He said while yawning.
  "James, I'm not kidding. I'm really sorry." I was crushed. It's been killing me for hours.
  "I know. I'm really sorry too. I shouldn't be treating you like shit. It's not your fault I'm like this." He choked out.
  "Your face is still red." I realized.
  "Steve, it's fine." He repeated.
  "I hurt you." I moaned into my hands. I walked myself to the couch and sat down.
  "You didn't hurt me. It's fine."
  "You should've punched me. I totally deserved it. I'm such a bad b-." Before I could finish, he cut me off. He was. Kissing me??? He's never kissed me on the lips before. This was the first.
  "Don't even think about finishing that." He threatened.
  "Really? Because I'm thinking about finishing it a lot right now." I teased. He punched my arm and told me to shut up.
  "Are we okay? I really didn't mean that stuff last night." He swayed side to side.
  "I know you didn't. We are okay, I swear." I promised him.
  After we finished apologizing to each other, I got up and made us breakfast. It wasn't anything special, just eggs and biscuits. Bucky still really appreciated the gesture. He's still trying to get used to only have his right arm, and his left shoulder is still really sore. Next week he gets his prosthetic and starts physical therapy. Mrs. Barnes and I both wanted to make sure he had a really nice prosthetic so he could feel comfortable, so we chose an expensive one and both chipped in. I had a bit of money from my mom's death, so I put some of it to good use. The insurance company only paid half, so Mrs. Barnes and I covered the other half. However, the other have was an easy $1,000. We split that in half and paid $500 each, so Bucky better love this arm. He hasn't seen it yet, and he doesn't even know I contributed to the cost. I just hope he's happy with it. Even though it's kind of a strange metal arm, it's shaped like his right one. We basically got a mold of his right arm, and converted it to a left so they matched. We wanted him to be as comfortable as possible.
  "I invited Nat, Sam, and Clint over." Bucky said, in between his bites of food. "They said they'd be over at around noon." I looked at my clock. It was already 11:35. Bucky was completely dressed, and I was most definitely not. I haven't even showered, I completely forgot last night. After we finished eating together I went to grab his dishes to put them in the dishwasher. I was also going to hand wash the pan for the eggs on the stove, and the baking sheet for the biscuits.
  "I can handle the dishes. Go take a shower and get dressed." He said, grabbing my plate from out of my hands.
  "Are you sure? It'll only take me a couple of seconds." I asked. I really didn't want to make him do them. He needs to relax for a bit. He's been super stressed and has barely slept lately.
  "I have to get used to it, Steve. I've got this. Go shower." He responded. He gave me a quick peck on the lips, and then I left to go take my shower. It took me a good twenty minutes to shower and get dressed, so it was already 11:55 when I finished. I heard some rustling down stairs, and then heard Natasha's voice. She's always early. You have to expect her to come 5 minutes earlier than the time she tells you. I start walking downstairs, and then I realized what was going on. Natasha was washing my pan and baking sheet. Bucky was sitting on the couch with his hand over his head.
  "Natasha, what are you doing?" I asked.
  "What does it look like? I'm doing your dishes." She responded, scrubbing away at the biscuit sheet.
  "Move over. I can do them." I tried to take the towel from her, but she wouldn't budge. I then heard Bucky get up from the couch, and slowly walk up the stairs. He probably needed to cool down. Natasha looked behind me to make sure Bucky was gone.
  "He was crying when I came in. Full on shaking and sobbing. He sounded awful." She whispered.
  "Why? What happened?" I asked. I already knew what it was, but I had to hear it come from someone else.
  "He couldn't do the dishes, Steve. He loaded them into the dishwasher, but he couldn't hand wash them. The pan kept sliding around everywhere and he was getting frustrated. When I came in, the pan's lid was shattered on the floor. It was completely broken." She looked down and pointed to the floor. There's a scratch on the hardwood floor from where the glass pan collided with it. "Should you check up on him?" She asked me after a moment of silence.
  "He likes being alone. He gets pissed when I try and comfort him." I mumbled. It was embarrassing to say. Whenever Tony needed Pepper, he called her. Bucky never called me. I then explained last night's events to her. She stood there, shocked. I didn't realize that I started to cry. I felt awful saying I hurt him. He was already in pain, what kind of monster am I? Natasha pulled me into a hug. This was the longest five minutes of my life. I didn't hear Bucky coming down the stairs. I was too distracted by the way Natasha was holding me. It felt just like my mother's hugs, comforting yet strong. It wasn't until Natasha pulled away that I noticed Bucky. Staring. Watching. He probably heard. I wasn't exactly quiet while explaining it. I definitely wasn't quiet when I brought up Pepper and Tony. We all just stared at each other in awkward silence, really awkward silence. We then heard knocking on the door. I've never been more happy to hear it.
  "I'll go get that." Natasha said.
  "I-" I started to say.
  "We can talk about this later." His expression was unreadable. It was like a mix of anger and sadness. He was probably angry at me. No, that's wrong. He was probably angry at his situation. I felt myself starting to freak out. I started to freak out at the thought that Bucky didn't love me anymore. I shook the thought from my head.
  "He told you he did this morning, you idiot." I reassured myself. During my time of thinking, I didn't realize that I was still standing in the kitchen, pan in hand. Natasha handed it to me to pick up, but I haven't moved at all. I also didn't realize Sam staring straight at me.
  "Earth to Steve. You in there, Rogers?" He asked, staring at me on the sofa.
  "Yeah, yeah. I'm in here. I just need to sit down." I put on my fakest smile. I needed to seem normal. I went to sit down, Bucky didn't move to make room for me to sit down next to him, but Clint did. I sat in between Natasha and Clint.
  "It's okay." Clint whispered in my ear. I guess he felt how stressed and upset I was.
  Everything was going great. Except for the fact that Bucky wasn't speaking to me. He would ignore every comment I made. As soon as the silence hit, that's when the emotions hit. I couldn't stop thinking. It was an overflow of emotions. I felt myself short of breath. This wasn't an asthma attack. My throat could gasp for air, but my body was fighting it. I can't exactly remember what happened, but I remember just sitting there shaking. I couldn't feel my arms and my legs. All I felt was the pressure of Clint getting up. I remember screaming.
  "Clint. Clint. Clint! Clint!" Over and over again. The sound of my own screams are going to burned in my brain forever. I was grabbing at whatever was in front of me.  I heard the noise around me. The most clear was Bucky's. He just kept saying it was going to be okay. I most certainly didn't feel like it was going to be okay. All I kept hearing in my head was the repeat of my mom's heart monitor, and Bucky yelling at me to fuck off. They don't need me.
  "You're useless, Steven. Completely and utterly useless." I said to myself. I would never say that to myself any other day, but for some reason my brain thought it was okay to say it now.
  "Jesus fuck, Clint. Move. Let me see him." I heard Bucky say. It cut through loud and clear. I felt myself mutter
  "James?"
  "I'm touching you, don't freak out." He pulled me into him. I felt someone rubbing my back, I figured it was Natasha, until I turned to my left and saw Sam instead.
  "You're okay." I'm okay.
  "It's going to be alright." It's going to be alright.
  "I'm here." He's here.
  "I'm not leaving you." He's not leaving me.
  After my huge fiasco, the others figured it would be best to leave us alone. I had managed to calm down, but I was still shaken up. That's never happened to me before. Bucky and I sat on opposite sides of the sofa. After my issue happened, we went back to how it was before. He was shutting me out. I wanted to break the silence, so that's what I did.
  "Why are you shutting me out?" I blurted out. I didn't mean it to come out so harshly, but it happened anyway.
  "I don't want to be a burden." He admitted.
  "You won't be a burden, Buck."
  "Then why do I feel like it? You constantly do my dishes. You do my laundry. These are things I should be able to do by myself." His voice cracked at the last part.
  "Bucky, you just lost your arm. Cut yourself some slack." I said.
  "I should be able to wash a pan, Steve. I can't even wash a fucking pan." He started to cry now. Bucky Barnes. Star football player. Sobbing his eyes out on the couch. The last time I looked at him crying was in the hospital bed. "I lost my dad. I lost my arm. What the fuck do I do now."
  "Well for starters, you can't stop being an asshole. You can't take it all out on me. None of this was my fault." I said. It took me a lot of courage to get that out.
  "Are you saying it's my fault." There we go. Bucky getting all defensive again.
  "What the fuck? Bucky no. It's the other drivers fault. You really think I would blame you?" I was actually hurt by that accusation. Did he really think I blamed him?
  "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I don't mean to keep snapping at you. You're just the closest thing I have around and it's my natural instinct." He admitted.
  "Well then, I wish I wasn't." I joked. I wanted him to stop crying.
  "Do you realize how much I love you?" Bucky asked. Of course I knew how much he loved me. I've always known, but nowadays I'm not so sure. It's hard to know with all the yelling.
  "Sometimes it's hard to tell. You've been kind of an asshole." I admitted. I'm really getting a lot of my chest. I think we both need to.
  "I know, I'm really sorry. I just don't like relying on other people, and I'm realizing that now I have to and that's scary."
  "We've always relied on each other, Bucky. That's why I wanted to be your boyfriend in the first place." His crying increased when I said that. I wanted to go over and hug him, but I didn't want to get punched.
  "I'm such a dick." He mumbled. I don't think he expected me to hear him, but I definitely did.
  "No you aren't. You're just confused right now."
  "I can't keep using my arm as an excuse to be an asshole. You can't lie to me and say that wasn't what started you off this evening. I knew that's what it was. You were talking out loud, you know." I looked at him like he had three heads. I was completely speechless. I really said all that stuff out loud.
  "You aren't useless, but I made you feel that way. You deserve so much more than that. Why haven't you left me?" I couldn't take it anymore. He's said it twice to me, I'm saying it this once. I've known him my whole life. Why is it so hard to say it now?
  "Bucky. I love you. I'm not leaving you. You're the best thing that's happened to me." With this, he got up off his side of the sofa and hugged me, or really squeezed me to death. I haven't hugged him like this in so long. I needed this. We needed this. It was a bunch of "I'm sorry's" and "I love you's" coming from him. He was practically laying on top of me, which is a scary thought because he had to be like 100 pounds larger than me. He'd crush me.
  "I missed you. I missed you so much, Stevie." It's only been a week, but hearing the name "Stevie" felt like so long ago. He hasn't called me Stevie all week. It's always been Steve, Steven, of asshole.
  "I've missed you too, jerk."
It was our regular rotation for the night. He'd wake up screaming and crying, and I'd be up waiting for him. However today he didn't push me off. He held me close and forced me down into the bed next to him. He didn't tell me what this dream was about, but he kept telling me he loved me over and over and over again. We had school in the morning, so we couldn't sleep in like we have been doing. I checked his phone to see what time it was, and found out it was 3:48. We wake up at 5:45 so we have around two hours to cool down and sleep. I did nothing of the sort, I watched and waited to see when he would fall asleep. It took a couple of minutes, but he eventually gave into the sleep. I soon gave in, too.
  "Boys, it's time to wake up." Mrs. Barnes said through the door. I guess we locked it after dinner last night.
  "Yes ma'am." I replied. I felt all groggy. My voice felt raspy and deep.
  "Buck, get up." I started shaking him awake. He's always been a heavy sleeper.
  "M'no." He responded, digging his face deeper into the pillow.
  "M'yes. Get up." I said. I'm not about to sit here all day to try and get him up. "Bucky get up." He flipped over on his back, but he still looked like he had no intention of getting up. "Am I seriously going to have to force you to get up?" I asked.
  "I'm afraid so, pipsqueak." He teased. I don't think that he thought I was being serious, until I climbed on top of him and straddled his waist. I tried putting as much weight on him as possible, and I used his biggest weakness, tickles. I started tickling his sides and his neck until he finally surrendered. "I can get used to waking up like this." He said, shit eating grin on display. It was then I realized that I was still on top of him, just sitting there.
  "Well don't get used to it. Next time I'm gonna push you out of the bed." I teased.
  "Good luck with that, Rogers."