Stucky Prompts

Part 5

Let's do five, five and five.

////

"Come over here and make me."

////

"Seriously, Buck, I'm working," Steve sighed as he shuffled through papers, pulling out a pen.

"You're always working," Bucky complained, leaning on his arm. Steve gave him a look.

"Yeah." He started reading through the papers and Bucky leaned into his space, looking up at his face.

"Steve, I need something to do," he sighed. Steve pursed his lips. "Stevie? Babe?"

Steve took his hands and looked him in the eyes. "I say this with love." He tilted Bucky's chin up. "Shut up." He kissed his forehead and went back to work.

Bucky stared at him, offended. "Come over here and make me," he crowed, folding his arms. Steve stared him down and Bucky jutted his chin out.

Finally, Steve sighed and kissed him, then pushed his face away. Bucky smirked and messed his hair up.

"Okay," he hummed. "I love you."

Steve blinked at him slowly. "Love you too. Go away."

Bucky pouted and let him work. After two hours, Steve was ready to do something. Bucky was happy.

////

"Stop thinking about him/her/them."

////

Steve knew the moment he walked into the room. Bucky was sitting on the bed, lost in thought, rubbing his wrist. The motion caught Steve's attention. He knew Bucky's telltale signs; he was, as he put it, "down in the dumps."

Steve cautiously walked over and kneeled in front of him so he could see his face. Bucky was staring at his hands, and his face was getting red.

"Hey," Steve said quietly, taking his human hand within his own. Bucky smiled at him, as usual. Steve could tell it was fake because of his eyes - dulled, tired-looking.

"Hey, Steve." Steve watched as his eyes quickly darted about, mentally reminding himself that Steve was okay, that he hadn't killed him, checking for bullet wounds. The guilt still hit him hard.

"Wanna go for a walk or something?" he suggested, studying his reaction. Nothing - Bucky loved being able to walk for hours, for no purpose at all.

"I'm fine."

He wasn't. All he saw was blood, bodies, guns, jail cells, metal. He took a breath and squeezed Steve's hand.

"Stop thinking about them," Steve said softly. Bucky looked away, clenching his jaw. Of course Steve could read him like a book.

"I can't," he answered, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. "I remember every single one of them. They weren't bad people. Well, maybe a few, but that wasn't my decision to make," he said desperately, looking pained. "I - I killed them, Steve. Hundreds of people gone because of me." His voice cracked so he swallowed and once again went silent.

"That wasn't you," Steve reminded, holding his hand a little tighter. "And I know you don't believe me, but -- " He tried to think of how to word his sentence. "If it takes me a lifetime, I'll keep reminding you that it wasn't your fault. I'll do what it takes to help you, okay? I promise."

Bucky discreetly wiped his eyes and huffed out a breath. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Steve gave him a small smile.