Bucky Barnes & Sebastian Stan Imagines

B.B. - fix you, fix me

Summary: Bucky wakes up from a nightmare and goes to you for comfort.

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"No... No. Stop... Stop! No!" I peeled my headphones off, checking the time in the corner of my computer screen. Who was yelling at 2 in the morning? Then I remembered who lived across the hall from me - Bucky. "NOO!!!"

I jumped out of bed and ran out of my bedroom, flinging Bucky's door open to find him just as panicked as I was. He sat upright in his bed, breathing heavily like I would after a run. His eyes met mine when I barged through the door. Though the room was dark, enough moonlight came through his curtains to reflect off his blue eyes. He was scared, and sad. He stood up, and we met halfway in the middle of his room. He pulled me hard into a hug, surprising me. Bucky rested his forehead on my shoulder, and I could hear him crying softly.

Before I had the chance to ask him about his nightmare, he dropped to his knees, holding onto my waist and leaning his head against my stomach. I slowly lowered myself to the floor, holding his head against my collarbone, running my fingers through his hair to try and calm him down. He nuzzled his face into my neck, holding me tighter than he ever has before.

Bucky was sensitive. He always seemed so fragile - like one moment he'd be perfectly fine, and the next he could be on the floor having a panic attack. I tried to never treat him different than the others, but I didn't dare go hard on him because I thought I might hurt him. There was a time before he was just Bucky. When he was the Winter Soldier, he scared me. And that's something Bucky never wanted to do - he told me that from day one.

But when Zemo recited his trigger words and he became the Winter Soldier again, he had his metal hand around my neck and nearly killed me. I think it was the fear in my eyes that made him let go and run away. When he finally came to in the warehouse, he instantly noticed the forming bruise on my neck in the shape of a handprint. He knew whose it was, and it took him a month to accept that I'd forgiven him for it.

"I'm so sorry," Bucky mumbled against the crook of my neck. I held him closer.

"For what? You haven't done anything wrong," I told him in a soft voice.

"I always do this to you... I wake you up with my stupid dreams and use you to comfort myself and never bother to ask how you feel," Bucky said, his tears not stopping.

"Hey," I pulled away to look at him. I used the sleeves of my hoodie to wipe away his tears. "First, your dreams aren't stupid, they're scars, and you're learning to get rid of them. You might think I haven't noticed, but they're getting less frequent by the week. Second, I'm always willing to do this no matter when or where you need me to, even if I'm busy elsewhere. I won't leave your side as long as you still need me. And third, fuck how I feel - if you need me, then you need me, and I'll be right there. Because I'm right here, with you, where I should be."

"Why do you care so much about someone like me? I'm not worth everything or anything you do for me. I'm a weapon and a machine and I don't even trust myself enough to sit this close to you. I don't know why you trust this stupid thing-" he looked at his arm, "-to be close to you. I'm just a broken piece of equipment and I should be dead. I deserve to be-"

"No," I said quickly and firmly. "Do not finish that sentence, because it's not true. You're not worthless, you're not a weapon or a machine, and I trust every part of you, even your metal arm. I'm close to you because I know you won't hurt me, and you deserve to live. You deserve to live such a good life to make up for the hell you've been through. You're so much stronger than you see yourself to be - mentally, not physically - and you are not broken. And if you were, I would make myself the best fucking mechanic in the world to fix you."

"Will you, then?" Bucky asked.

"Will I what?" I returned the question.

"Fix me," Bucky said quietly. He pressed his forehead against mine, and as I placed my hand on his cheek, he leaned into my touch. "Kiss me.... please."

I leaned in and pressed my lips softly to his, and he kissed back without hesitation. He was gentle and sweet about it, like the way I'd been with him all this time. He placed his right hand on my cheek and put his left behind his back, like he couldn't - or wouldn't - touch me with it. I took my hand and reached for his left arm, but he pulled away and looked at me with confusion and fear.

I tried to tell him with my eyes that he wouldn't hurt me. I loved him - all of him - and that included his metal arm, despite his insecurity about it. I let his cold metal hand rest on my right palm, then flipped it over and kissed the back of it. I held his hand in mine, staring into his astonished blue eyes. But once the minor shock faded away, he took my left hand and kissed the back of it. He left kisses all the way up my arm and stopped at my shoulder, resting his head there a moment, more than likely recalling the loss of his arm - which was why he was treating mine so carefully, like it was made of glass.

I leaned forward, pulling him to the floor as I reached for the blanket on his bed. I pulled it off onto the floor with us, throwing it over us both. He curled into a ball, allowing me to wrap my arms over his large shoulders, which, despite them not being around me, still made me feel safe just being so near them. Bucky always made me feel safe.

I planted my face in the crook of his neck and snuggled closer to him, wanting nothing more than this. His warmth, his sweetness, even the messiness of his unkempt, dark brown hair. I felt good with him in my arms, it was like some sort of reversed scenario which only made the feeling that much better. I cared for him in ways I never thought I would ever be able to care for anyone else, and it's taken me this long to finally show him. It didn't take long until his soft snores filled the silence of the room.

I should have said something, but I figured some moments should be left in silence. This was one of them.