Stucky One Shots

Chapter 7: Cold Mornings

Post Serum! Steve and Bucky
Warning for some swearing, and this was a request, yay!! The only reason I haven't been writing is because I don't know what to write. If you guys have ideas, please comment them so I have something to write!!

Its's 1am, and Steve is not sleeping. Steve is not sleeping because Steve is so, so cold. Steve is cold because it's winter in New York, and also because of the ice. The ice, and how he crashed the plane because of the pain of losing Bucky. Steve is cold because Bucky is warm and secure, and he isn't, and he can't fucking figure out why. Why is Bucky so kind and warm and secure and why is Bucky sleeping soundly and Steve is shivering? Steve doesn't know. He doesn't know why he's cold, and Bucky's warm, but he does know that he needs a shower. It's 1am and he needs to shower.

It's 4am and Steve is finally in the shower. He turned the temperature knob so the water is so hot that he can't feel cold anymore. Steve steps in and hisses and almost screams but stops himself because his precious Bucky is sleeping. He can't wake Bucky, but Jesus Christ, does he need to scream or throw something or smash his fist against the wall. Steve stands under the spray with his broken thoughts of Bucky, Bucky falling, Bucky in the chair, Bucky punching him. You're my mission, he had told Steve. Steve doesn't think that anymore. Steve knows Bucky loves him, but he's such a mess, and he's so anxious and how does anyone so messed up forget every single fault they have. Steve surely doesn't.

It's 6am, and Steve is in the basement of his and Bucky's small house. He's crying, not audibly, just silent tears that fall down his cheeks as he throws his fists into the already dented walls. He went into the basement so he could avoid waking Bucky up, but he knows he's being too loud. He knows he needs to hit quieter, or just stop altogether, but he can't stop. In fact, his frustration escalated. Steve rams his right side into the wall, shoulder first, and he knows he hears something pop out of place. It's hurts, but he's warm, now. He's warm with the anger of losing Bucky and with the anxiety of losing him again.

It's 7am, and Bucky woke up to banging underneath him. He groggily turns on the lamp on the night stand and scans the room. Steve's side of the bed is empty. Another bang shakes the floor underneath him.

"Steve! What in hell are you doing?!"

Seriously why is Steve reconstructing their basement at 7am when Bucky should obviously be sleeping. Bucky follows the bangs down the steps and to the basement where he finally sees Steve, whose hands are bloody, whose shoulder is dangling at an old angle.

"Shit, Stevie. What the fuck are you doing?"

Steve crumpled to the floor at the sounds of Bucky's voice. He had woken him up. Bucky rushes over to Steve in a fit of worry.

"Baby, why didn't you wake me?"

"Didn't," Steve grunts, "wanna. You need your rest."

Jesus Christ, Bucky needs to slap some sense into the beautiful man. He grabs Steve's face and kisses his lips lightly.

"Baby, you need help. When you need help, I want to be there for you okay?"

Steve nods and curls into Bucky's lap. A sob comes from his throat because Bucky is so warm and Steve is cold again.

"Shh angel. Come on let's go upstairs. I'll clean you up, and we can go back to sleep," Bucky whispers.

Steve gives a quiet, "okay," and they go back up to their room.

It's 9am, and Steve is finally sleeping again. Bucky is playing with his hair and humming softly because nobody should ever feel how Steve felt this morning, cold and alone. Bucky is so relaxed in doing this that he also falls asleep.

It's 11am, and Steve wakes up to the smell of food. It smells so good, and it makes him spring out of bed. That feeling of enthusiasm is immediately stemmed by the pain in his entire body.

"Shit."

He slowly, and less enthusiastically makes his way to the kitchen. He sees his husband over a skillet of stir fry, Steve's favorite.

"Hey beautiful," Bucky greets.

Steve smiles a little, "Hi."

Bucky turns around and kisses his cheek, "you might wanna ice your shoulder there, tiger."

He loves Bucky. He loves Bucky and his warmth, and his stir fry, and his long dark hair, and his pretty grey eyes.

"I love you, Bucky."

"I love you, too, sweet pea, but don't think you're off the hook about this morning. I don't wake up at 7am for nothing."