Soft Robotics ✧ Bucky Barnes

(conjecture[2.14]);

It was 6AM on the dot when I woke up to Bucky and Steve arguing in the living room. Well, Bucky arguing at Steve.

"Don't even fucking ask her," Bucky was saying, sounding like he was struggling not to raise his voice.

"She deserves to have the choice. This could really help," Steve said evenly, much quieter than Bucky.

"You and I both know she'll do it if you tell her it'll help. It's not a choice. It's an obligation. So don't fucking ask."

"We need this. We have no other leads."

"I don't care!"

Whatever it was, I didn't want to know. I really, really wanted to go back to sleep and pretend I didn't hear anything. But Steve had said it could help. So yeah, an obligation.

"We can assign a counselor for her—"

"Oh, great, that solves everything, then." Bucky was getting louder. "Go ahead and re-traumatize her all you want, the shrink can just undo it afterward. 'Cause that's how that works."

"You can go with her," Steve said. I slowly raised my head from the pillow and strained to hear him. "Everything up until going in the actual room with her."

"Oh, so everywhere but the place where she'd need me the most? Great plan, Steve." There was a pause. "God, I kept wishing he'd escape custody on that mission just so I'd have an excuse to go take him out."

They were talking about Rumlow. My stomach sank. Re-traumatize her? Um, no thanks. Whatever it was, I was hoping they'd give me a better therapist than Martha afterward.

"Nat said the same thing," said Steve.

"I should've just tracked him down while he was in custody." Bucky was starting to get upset enough to forget about trying not to wake me up. "I would've done it if I'd known he was about to start acting up."

"You don't mean that."

"Don't I? At what point do we actually start eliminating threats, Steve? When they're not just threats anymore? When he's broken out and killed her?"

"That's not going to happen."

"You can't know that! He wants her dead. Maybe more people than just him. People want her dead. You ever think about that? Can you even wrap your head around that? 'Cause I can't."

"Take a breath. Sit down. Please."

"I'm not crazy! All I'm saying is that somebody needs to put him down before he kills her first." He was shouting now, set off by Steve's attempts to calm him. "Is that crazy? How is that crazy? How is it crazy to not want her to die?"

"It's not crazy. But she's not going to die, okay? She's fine."

I hurried out of bed, digging through drawers for something to put on.

"She's gonna die. Somebody's gonna kill her. If not Rumlow, then somebody else. She's gonna die and it's gonna be my fault. It'd be stupid to expect anything else."

I'd managed to pull on one of Bucky's shirts by then.

"Buck," Steve said seriously. "She's gonna be fine. You can't think like that."

"I don't trust it. Something bad is gonna happen. I can feel it."

"That's anxiety that you're feeling. That just means you're worried about her, not that something bad is gonna happen."

"I can feel it."

Then, there was the sound of glass breaking in the living room.

"Sit down, Buck."

Okay, Steve was just going to have to see me without pants. The shirt was long anyway.

I opened the bedroom door slowly, not to upset him further. Bucky was pacing the length of the living room, his boots crunching over the shards of a lamp on the floor. I started over to him, and his head snapped up finally.

"Don't come over here, sweetheart," he said tiredly. "You're not wearing shoes. Let me come to you."

"Whatever you need," I tried to tell him as he reached me. I was hesitant to touch him, unsure if that was what he needed, but he engulfed me completely, pulling me into his chest, one hand tangling in my hair to hold my head against him. I wrapped my arms around his waist. I heard the door click shut as Steve left us alone.

"I don't want you to die, Grace," he muttered. "'M sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up. I just don't want you to die."

"I'm right here," I told him. "I'm okay."

He pulled me in closer, so tight I had to turn my face away from his shirt to breathe. "Did it make you scared?" he asked. "The yelling? And the lamp?"

"No, I'm okay."

"Okay. You're okay."

"That's right," I told him. "I'm okay."

"I get real worried sometimes is all."

"I know. It's okay."

"I'm not crazy," he said.

"Of course you're not."

"Can we go back to bed? They want us in a meeting at 8. Can I hold you until then?"

I guided him toward the bed, and he collapsed onto it, boots still on. I moved to the end to take them off for him. "Just leave 'em, doll," he said, reaching out for me to come back.

I settled onto him, and we laid in silence for a few minutes. I wanted to ask about what they were arguing about, what it was that I was going to have to do, but I knew it wasn't the time. It would upset him again.

"Hey James?" I asked eventually.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for loving me."

He laughed humorlessly. "It's not doing you any good."

A/N: Last night I 'fessed up to my bf that I've been writing a fanfic, and he IMMEDIATELY guessed that it was about Bucky bc of how openly thirsty I was over him while we were watching TFATWS💀💀💀 then this morning he sent me a pic of him on his way to work with his long hair down with sunglasses and a black mask on and asked if he looked like the winter soldier...I luv my bf idk why I was even scared to tell him💖💖💖