Stucky oneshots

How Could They Hurt My Baby

He was back in the chair. An IV drip connected to his right hand pumping who knows what into his system. His limbs being held tightly in place by metal restraints. The metal mouthpiece between his teeth, a new addition to the mind wiping sessions since they were tired of him biting his tongue until blood seeped out of his mouth.

The cold metal attachments were lowered to his head and the pain began to course through his body. He could only see white and then, suddenly, he was home.

He looked around, confused as to how he'd gotten there. He was standing on the front porch of his childhood house, a cool autumn breeze blowing the hair away from his forehead.

He could hear a Frank Sinatra record playing inside, the music drifting out of the open windows. He followed the sound inside, hearing his mother humming along as she placed something in the oven.

She hadn't noticed him yet, her back to the door he had just walked through. Seeing his mom filled him with emotion. He'd just been at one of the worst moments in his life and now, he was back home with one of the people who made him feel the safest.

She turned around, not at all surprised to see him. It was like she'd been expecting him. She looked him over and it was then that he realized he was beaten, bruised, and bloody, wearing a tattered and torn version of the sergeant uniform he'd worn when he shipped out. The same thing he'd been wearing the last time he saw her.

She gave him a warm smile, sadness in her eyes at the sight of him so worn down and broken.

"My baby." She spoke softly, her warm hand reaching out to rest on his cheek. "What's happened to you?"

And just as if he was a child again, he found himself seeking solace in her embrace, melting into her arms as she pulled him in close.

He willed himself not to cry, tears finding their way to his eyes and down his cheeks nonetheless. "Mom." He whimpered, the comfort of her hug seeming to be slowly replacing the pain.

"I thought you were dead, but this is worse. What have they done to you? My boy, oh my James. You're still my baby. How could they hurt my baby?" She asked as she continued to hug him close, tears running onto his shoulder.

"I'm okay." He lied for her, wanting to comfort her as much as she was comforting him.

She pulled back and looked at him closely before shaking her head. "You're not." She pulled him into her arms again and swayed them side to side. "James, you listen to me, I love you. Don't you forget that, no matter what anyone does to you or makes you do. Nothing will change that. I love you, you hear me?"

He nodded, hoping to never forget the way that moment felt. Here he was, a broken shell of a man in his mother's embrace. And, like a mother, she loved him no matter what he'd done.

"I love you too, Ma." His voice barely above a whisper.

She continued to hold him for what felt like forever before straightening up and pulling away from the embrace. She put her hands on his cheeks and smiled, looking him over again.

"I'm making meatloaf, go sit down. When's the last time you had a home-cooked meal, huh?"

He smiled, shrugging his shoulders. "Not since I shipped out."

"That's what I was afraid of." She shook her head, pulling a meatloaf from the oven and carrying it to the dining room table. He sat down and she sat across from him, in the same seats they'd sat in every night growing up.

She served them food and began eating while he stared at her in awe.

"You better eat that food, James. You know how I feel about ending up with leftovers." She pointed her fork at him, giving him a mom-stare until he began to eat.

The food tasted just as he remembered. Like home. When they were finished, they cleared their plates and stood in the kitchen once again.

"You know, you've always made me proud. I don't care what those people made you do. You, my son, are my pride. Nothing changes that." She told him, looking at him as if he'd done no wrong in his life.

He was suddenly aware he was no longer in the tattered uniform but rather his appearance was up to date. He was wearing the clothes he'd worn the day before and his hair was the exact way it was now.

"Come here, give me one more hug." She pulled him into her arms again. They held on to each other as if they knew if was the last time they'd ever hug one another.

"I love you, Ma." He whispered, wishing he could stay here in this dream forever.

"I love you too, baby. Now you get back to that husband of yours. Keep him from doing anything stupid." She winked before letting go of him altogether.

Bucky woke up breathing heavily. He saw Steve in bed beside him, awake and watching him with concern.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly, fearful he had been having a nightmare.

Bucky nodded, feeling tears well in his eyes. "Yeah." He whispered, a smile crossing his lips. "Yeah, I'm okay. I just...I think we should have meatloaf for dinner."

Steve looked at him confused before nodding. "Sure thing, my love. You sure you're okay?"

Bucky glanced briefly at the only family photo he had that resided on his nightstand. "Yeah."