It Only Takes a Second

- XXXIV -

­"No," Harry thrashed, "no, don't. Stop! Stop it! No!"

"Harry?" Bucky questioned curiously, appearing in the doorway. At the sight of the teenager thrashing about in the bed, things flying around the room by, what Bucky assumed was, magic.

"Harry!" Bucky exclaimed, hurrying to Harry's bed. It had been two days since the incident at Peter's, and Harry was still supposed to be resting, which was why he was napping now, at ten in the morning.

Harry still wasn't supposed to be performing any magic whatsoever, so the fact that items in the room were breaking or flying, concerned Bucky.

"Harry, bud, can you wake up for me?" Bucky hushed, his tone light.

From the doorway, Steve peered into the room, watching adoringly as Bucky pulled the covers off of Harry, as gently as possible, speaking to him in a gentle voice. It was the softest Steve had ever heard Bucky speak, even to Peter.

"Harry, it's time to wake up buddy," Bucky placed the blankets that he had lifted from on top of Harry's sweating and thrashing figure, on to the floor quietly. He didn't want to make any loud or sudden movements that might wake Harry up violently in a half-conscious state.

Steve watched as Bucky padded quietly towards the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth from a cabinet, dampening it a bit under the faucet, before wringing it out as best as possible and heading back towards Harry.

"Harry," Bucky soothed gently, lightly brushing a strand of Harry's sweat-matted hair out of his face. He knew that when waking someone having a nightmare, especially a rather violent one, it was best not to touch them. But Bucky always found it most comforting when, whenever he was having one, Steve would wake him with light, gentle touches.

If the touches were soft and warm, rather than cold and forceful, Bucky knew he must be safe and no longer with Hydra.

"Shh, there you go," Bucky murmured, now bringing the damp rag to Harry's forehead as the teen began to wake.

"It's okay, you're okay. It's Bucky- you had a nightmare," the ex-assassin hushed, continuing to brush Harry's hair out of his face soothingly. With his metal arm, he gently dabbed the cool washcloth on to Harry's flushed, hot, skin.

Items in the room began to fly back in to place, and everything that had broken repaired itself, until everything was still again. Steve watched in amazement as things reassumed the exact position they had been in before Harry had experienced the nightmare. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought nothing out of the ordinary had gone on.

"Hey there," Bucky cooed softly, giving Harry a small smile as the brilliantly green eyes flashed open suddenly, his entire body tensing. Bucky stood up straight, as Harry shot up, eyes flashing around the room.

Steve jumped into action, abandoning his post as a doorway spy, and raced into the bathroom and grabbing a bucket from under the sink. No sooner had he made it to Harry's side and thrust the bucket into Harry's arms, was the teen heaving his breakfast into the red plastic basin.

Bucky, who had pulled his hands away as soon as Steve appeared with the bucket, now placed his bionic hand on the small of Harry's back gently, careful to mind the still-healing wounds. With the other hand, he draped the washcloth over the back of Harry's neck.

"It's alright, let it out," Steve murmured, placing his hand on Harry's shoulder. He looked up at Bucky, who was studying him with an amused smirk on his face. Steve shook his head, fighting a small smile that was pulling at his lips, before looking back down at Harry.

"I'm going to go get a glass of water and some Advil," Steve told the two of them as Harry finished. "Are you done with the bucket, or do you think you might still need it?"