Warrior || an avengersxreader fanfiction

chapter fifteen

You lift your shirt to reveal your injury before Bucky puts ice on it. A fist-sized bright red mark lights up on your skin. A small amount of blue is already showing through the red. You can tell that the bruise goes to the bottom of your rib cage. Your mom used to come home with bruises and other injuries all the time; while she was treating them, she would explain how she got it and what it was. She had bone bruises frequently, so you know right away what this is. You lower your shirt so Bucky can put the ice on your side. When the ice touches your bruise, you wince.
"Thanks," You say to Bucky when he has put the ice on your side.
"Sorry." He looks at your hand holding the ice.
"No. I asked you to fight. It's my fault. And it'll probably be fine by tomorrow." You assure him. For your mom or other humans without Super Soldier genes, is would be gone in a few months, for you, it will be gone in little less than a week, but for your dad, it would probably be gone by tomorrow.

You realize that the only light in here is the lightbulb in the kitchen where Bucky is sitting. You hadn't realized what time it was, and you're exhausted again from training. You decide that now would be a good time to go to sleep, but you're still holding the bag of cold water and a little ice over your bruise. You stand up and walk to the kitchen sink where you dump the water. You turn the plastic bag inside-out and set it next to the sink to dry. You yawn as you walk back to the couch. When you lay down you're expecting to fall right asleep, but it takes a while. Finally, after about ten minutes, you fall asleep.

You wake to the sound of a loud, sharp breath that can only come from Bucky. You open you're eyes a little bit so he doesn't know that you're awake. You notice that you have a blanket draped over you that wasn't there when you fell asleep. It takes a second for your eyes to focus in the dark; it is so dark that you can open your eyes all the way and know he won't be able to tell that they're open. Bucky is sitting up on his bed with his arms propped up on his knees, and his head is resting in his right hand. The sight is pitiful. You want to comfort him, but have no idea how. You try to think of how to help him; I could ask him what's wrong. You think and then almost laugh out loud. Of course Bucky wouldn't want to talk about it. I could just sit next to him. No. That would get way too awkward. You think of a few other scenarios of what you could do, but he lays back down before you decide what to do. When his breathing gets a little more rhythmic you roll over and fall back asleep.