putting the pieces together.

"I just want to go home."

“..I know, Buck. I know.”
Steve sighed a little, shifting a bit on their makeshift bed so he could hold Bucky closer. Yeah, this definitely wasn’t their apartment back in Brooklyn–the run down thing that they could barely afford, but it was home. Here, in war torn Europe, was not home.
“I do, too. But–hey. This’ll all be over soon, right?” A small smile, and Steve reached over to lightly run his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “And when it’s over, we’ll go back home to our lil’ apartment. Maybe–maybe we’ll even be able to afford a newer one. One that has heat and everythin’. One that maybe has a whole bathroom so we don’t have t’bathe in the kitchen. Doesn’t that sound great, Buck?”
He closed his eyes, burying his face in Bucky’s hair and taking a deep breath. “One where the walls aren’t so thin..and the blankets on the bed are warm and cover the whole bed.” He paused for a moment, reaching a hand to take one of Bucky’s and intertwine their fingers.
“I swear, Buck, we’ll go home. Together.”

Bucky was dead silent as he listened to his ~~friend~~ LOVER speak, letting the words that were spilling from his mouth sink in as best as they could. He wanted to believe in them– that they would go back to their shoddy little apartment, away from the war and able to live normal lives again. That they would be able to afford a different apartment. And hell, maybe Steve was right. Maybe then they’d be able to afford a new, better apartment…But it was hard for him to be so hopeful with the sense of dread that constantly lingered in his mind. It had stayed with him ever since Steve had rescued him; ever since he saw Zola watch him like he was taking MENTAL NOTES about the results of his EXPERIMENTS on a LAB RAT.

Something was going to go terribly wrong. It was only a matter of WHEN…and Bucky didn’t want to be around to find out.

Of course, he couldn’t just leave. No, he couldn’t just abandon the war– abandon his MEN over something as silly as fear. It was WAR, it was natural to feel apprehension toward what was to come. Normally, he was the last person to show that he was afraid, if at all. Back in Brooklyn, he couldn’t afford to show any fear; his siblings, STEVE, they all counted on him, and here? Here he wasn’t just Bucky Barnes. He was SERGEANT JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES. He couldn’t afford to show that he was afraid now more than ever. He had to keep himself, and his men, strong– positive.

…He wasn’t with his men though. Not at that moment. He was with Steve ( big, muscular, HEALTHY Steve that shouldn’t be here– that should still be SMALL, WEAK and at HOME; ~~WHY COULDN’T HE LISTEN?~~ ), practically curled up against him. It was strange, being the smaller one, even if it were only by a few inches and a bit of muscle, but he didn’t let it bother him now. He’d ( ~~hopefully~~ ) have ages to get used to it, after all. He let his eyes flicker up to the hand that was being held, giving the mans hand a slight squeeze in a silent ‘okay’.

And, for once, he couldn’t speak. He knew he couldn’t speak, because if he did, his voice would likely crack, exposing the fear that he just couldn’t risk letting show. Yet, again, this was Steve; he could read his emotions simply by looking in his eyes, he knew Bucky that well. He let his eyes flicker back to Steve’s chest for a moment, watching its steady rise and fall as he breathed. It was…oddly calming, if only for a little bit. But being held like this– it wasn’t truly enough. He wanted to be closer– no, NEEDED to be closer. He needed the warmth, the comfort, even if he refused to say that he wasn’t okay, that he needed it. So he silently shuffled a bit closer, leaning in to nuzzle against Steve’s neck under his chin, placing a gentle kiss on the flesh; a silent ‘I love you’.

✖ ✖ ✖ ✖

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