different » marvel ¹

twenty-eight

I sat in my seat across from the bed in the room I was staying in. I couldn't sleep so I was up, just reading one of the books I'd found. After everything that happened with Tony and leaving the rest of the team behind, guilt had been finding a way to bite at me and my conscious. I hated what I did. I hated that I had to choose a side and never got to hear the complete story from everyone.

Then there was also a part of me that didn't regret anything; a part of me that knew I would do whatever it took to protect myself and keep him safe. Bucky was all I had for a long time, and as much as the overly-confident and somewhat narcissistic side of me wanted to deny it, I needed him.

I glanced up from my book, my gaze suddenly focused on the figure that laid in the bed. Bucky had begun to stir in his sleep, gaining my attention.

T'Challa, offered for us to have two separate rooms, but I suppose that after two years of sharing the same apartment, separation anxiety was a thing. Maybe it was just the thought of having the other person there to watch your back while you couldn't; it had become a habit for us.

   The fact that I had become so comforted by someone's sheer presence in my life scared the hell out of me . . . but as long as that person was James Buchanan Barnes, I didn't want it to change. I didn't know I could care about someone so much until now. Sure, I had friends that I cared about, but this was different. The feeling that rose in my chest every time he would be put in a dangerous situation, the intense emotion I would feel surge through me whenever we would share a moment, the ease I would get whenever his eyes brightened and the corners of his mouth arose into a nonchalant smile; I had no idea how to handle it.

   When Bucky started to thrash around a bit more, mumbling a few things in his sleep, it broke me from my thoughts. The light from the window reflected a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead and the sudden development made me stand up and make my way over to him, sitting down on the bed once I had.

"Bucky," I whisper, trying to be quiet enough to not scare him. "James, wake up. You're having a bad dream." I use his first name and carefully shake his shoulders a bit, making his eyes open widely.

"Raven?" He gulped, his voice raspy from sleep. "Are you—you're okay? You're okay," he let out a sigh, trying to catch his breath for a moment. His words made my stomach twist slightly. Why would I not be okay?

"It's okay, I'm here. Just breathe, alright?" I assure him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. I look at him, noticing the worried expression his face held.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes. "I woke you up, didn't I?" Bucky took a deep breath, sitting up a little bit.

I shake my head, scooting closer to him. "No, I-I couldn't sleep to begin with." I push a piece of hair behind my ear. "Do you want to—you know, talk about it?"

Bucky shakes his head slowly, deciding to be vague. "It was just bad." He looked to me and his eyes held an emotion that confused me: fear. My head cocked to the side slightly as I tried to decipher why he would be scared. For a while after SHIELD had fallen and we'd moved to Romania, he did have nightmares—terrible ones—but after a few months, they became less common. Around the time the bombing in Vienna happened, they were rare for him to have.

"Bucky, you can tell me," I reassure, dropping my hand down and letting it rest on the mattress. I watch as his gaze falls, a sudden feeling of uneasiness and insecurity taking over the room with his actions. It was quiet for a few moments as I watched him internally battle with himself. He wasn't sure if he should tell me or not and it was clear in the way his brows furrowed, making a small crease appear on his forehead.

"You didn't get out," he whispered suddenly. "They caught you, and—and you . . ." Bucky's voice cracked as he spoke, only making the worry I previously held rise. "I'm sorry." His blue eyes looked up at me, making me notice how they were beginning to water slightly. Usually, I wasn't one for support when it came to crying, but this was him. If you'd asked me to reassure someone like this three years ago, I'd have no clue how to do it properly.

My gaze flickered between his eyes before I reached forward and pulled him into a tight embrace, my arms reaching around his neck and holding him. "They made me do it . . . I'm sorry." I could feel him shake slightly, only making me try to hold him closer if that was even possible. I felt his arms go around my waist, I could tell he let himself relax a bit as his head fell in the crook of my neck.

   "HYDRA?" I questioned in a whisper, already coming to the conclusion of what his dream must've been about. I felt his head move slightly in a nodding motion, signaling that I guessed correctly.

   I moved my hand up to the nape of his neck, running my thumb back and forth lightly. "I'm still here. I swear I'm here. I'm okay, it was just a dream." I pull away from our embrace for a second, surveying the look on his face. "Hey," I say quietly, letting my hand slide to his jaw. "You're okay. We're both here, Buck."

His eyes flickered up towards my face slowly, as if he were scared I wouldn't be here once they finally settled on me. His arm carefully left my waist and moved so his hand could meet mine on his jaw. Once his hand met mine, the metal was cool to the touch as it relaxed over my own; it was comforting in a way. Every movement he took was unhurried and precarious, as if he was trying to not startle a wild animal that could run at any given time. It felt like time itself had slowed down just for him and I. Moments like these were rare for us. It was still hard for him to be open sometimes and I respected that, knowing well enough when and when not to push it. So, I relaxed and let him go where he was comfortable.

His arm that still rested around my waist tightened, and I wasn't sure he even noticed, but it was then that I realized it: he was apprehensive. It was then I took in his shallow, fast-pasted breaths he tried to hide and the small clench of his jaw that moved underneath my fingers. I figured he wasn't the type to show when he was uneasy; that he would hide it and make it seem like there was not a single thing wrong and that he knew exactly what to do and when to do it.

Despite the situation merely minutes ago still being fresh in my mind, I couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of my lips. "Why are you nervous?" I ask in a small voice, a playful edge taking over the tone to try to lighten the mood and make him feel more at ease.

Bucky's eyes flickered to my mouth as I spoke, then back to my eyes. "I'm not nervous," he gulped lowly, his voice becoming unsure.

My head cocked to the side softly. "Then explain why you're arm just tightened and your breathing is uneven. You forget," I begin to remind him. "I'm trained to spot things like this."

I kept the thought that he could change his appearance in an instant in the back of my mind. Completely mask the entirety of his uneasiness and cover it with a stoic expression that he used to wear quite often, but he was letting me see this side of him. He was letting himself be vulnerable to me.

"Because . . . you. You're the only thing I'm sure of . . . the only person I know will still be here when I wake up," he explains, his voice becoming lower. "I don't want that to change."

My thumb moved back and forth over the stubble on his cheek as I held in a grin. "I don't want it to change either," I agree. "I don't plan on it changing."

Bucky's eyes came to meet mine with my statement as his arm that was wrapped around my waist pulled me close to him, forcing me to wrap both of my arms around his neck to keep my balance. Due to our new position, I now straddled him as his arms gently went around my waist and pulled me closer again. Our faces were inches apart as we studied each other carefully, letting the natural light from the moon outside the window illuminate us as we did so. And then, as if it were practiced a million times before, Bucky and I leaned to each other at the exact same moment. This kiss was needy and full of a hunger that I wasn't familiar with when it came to him, but it was welcomed all the same. We moved in a perfect manner that complimented one another. My lips met his once more and it made my heart swell.

I pulled back for a moment to get air and he took the chance to begin peppering my neck with small kisses, trailing them down my jaw to the top of my shoulder.

I grabbed his face, redirecting his lips back to mine for a while longer.

My mind usually raced with a million thoughts, never taking a break to relax, but now in this moment, it had never been clearer. The confusing choices needing to be made and actions needing to be taken had dissipated into thin air and it felt like I could breath for once.

It was invigorating, and I never wanted to let it go.