Stucky oneshots

Masks Drop At Home

Home. The place where you can drop the act and just be. The place you don't wear the mask you wear everywhere else. For Steve and Bucky, home was not only a shared apartment, but with each other. Whenever one had spent the day hiding their anger, fear, anxiety, or sadness, it all came out when they were with each other. This sounds like a good thing at first glance, but really, it could lead to fights and tears or worse.

Bucky had spent the day running some errands and cleaning up the apartment while Steve was in meetings at SHIELD. Bucky had been having a great day, in fact, it marked an entire month since he had last self-harmed. And he was proud of himself for the first time in a long time.

Steve was pissed off however, having been talked over, ignored, and ridiculed all day long during the meetings. And he had hid it while at SHIELD, but the mask went off when he walked in the door.

Bucky was in their room tidying up when Steve came home. He heard the door slam and his keys thrown onto the counter. He could tell Steve was mad before he even heard the liquor cabinet be opened and then slammed shut. But that didn't matter, this was a big day for him. He had gone a month without hurting himself!

He walked into the kitchen and saw Steve three shots of Asgardian liquor deep and pouring his fourth. "Rough day?"

Steve gave him a 'don't-talk-or-look-at-me' look before downing the next shot.

"Hey, it's okay. Whatever happened today, you can talk about it. I'm all ears, sweetheart." Bucky offered sweetly and getting no response.

Steve simply threw back another shot and ignored his husband.

"Or you can just put it behind you and we can do something else together. Something fun. Whatever you want." Bucky tried again, getting frustrated as his good day was fading away.

When Steve once again ignored him, Bucky had had enough. "Listen, I see you've had a shitty day but you don't get to come home and ignore me and ruin my day because of it!"

Steve laughed, not a funny, playful laugh but a scornful, sour laugh. "I'm ruining your day? That's rich."

"You are ruining my day, as a matter of fact!"

"Well tough break for you. Do you know how many of my days you have ruined? Quite a few!" Steve said, drinking another shot.

"Stop it!" Bucky yelled shakily, simultaneously terrified of how Steve was acting and furious at him. "Stop acting like this." When Steve shrugged him off again, Bucky grabbed the bottle of Asgardian liquor and threw it into the sink. The bottle shattered and the alcohol went down the drain.

Steve stood up from his chair, a screeching sound coming from the chair as it scraped backwards quickly. He was more furious than Bucky had ever seen him. He unstably approached Bucky, swinging his arm as he did and hitting Bucky in the eye.

Bucky took a step backwards after the blow and cowered in fear, having never saw Steve become violent before. His breathing quickened as he curled in on himself and tears rolled down his cheeks unknowingly.

"What? You're going to cry now? Of course you are. You cry about everything! You're one of the most unstable people I know. I mean, come on! I'm ruining your day today? You've ruined so many of my days with your anxiety and self-harm bullshit it isn't even funny!"

Bucky let out a shaky breath before he quickly retreated to their bedroom, locking the door before falling to the ground in sobs. Why was Steve being so mean? He got violent for the first time ever towards him.

And then Bucky's one month free of self-harm went out the window. Steve was right, he was unstable. And he had dragged Steve down with him on many days. Fuck it. Bucky stripped down to his boxers and began cutting his thighs more than he had in so long. When he cut enough to feel lightheaded, he set the utility blade down on Steve's side of the bed and cried himself to asleep.

Steve meanwhile had gotten another bottle of Thor's Asgardian liquor and drank it dry, passing out on the kitchen floor afterwards.

In the morning, Steve woke up with a hangover that hurt like a bitch. Luckily for him, the serum made that hangover last for just less than an hour. When it had faded away, he rubbed his forehead and tried to remember what the hell happened the previous evening. Why were his knuckles bruising? Why was a shattered bottle in the sink? Why did he end up on the kitchen floor instead of in bed with Bucky? Wait a minute, Bucky...Steve ignored him...then yelled at him...then hit him...then yelled some more. Oh God, how could he be so terrible to his husband? He had beaten guys up for doing less than that to their significant others. He had royally fucked up.

He decided to go try and apologize to Bucky and the calendar caught his eye on his way. Yesterday's date was circled and it read "1 month clean" with a goofy smily face. Bucky was one month clean yesterday. That's why he was in such a good mood at first, and Steve crushed him. Steve felt sick with guilt as he went into their bedroom.

That sick feeling increased when he saw Bucky asleep with a black eye, his eyes puffy from crying, and lying in his own blood from the fresh cuts on his legs. Steve stumbled with shock into their bathroom and began to throw up.

Bucky woke up, his eye and legs sore. He sat up and looked at the blood-stained blankets and his scabbing cuts with shame. Then he heard the sound of vomiting from the bathroom.

"Steve?" He called, making his way to the entrance of the bathroom. "Hangover?" He asked shyly, not sure Steve wanted to be with him at the moment.

Steve took a look at his husband and began to sob. "I'm so sorry...I don't-I don't know what happened!...I'm a monster!"

Bucky kneeled beside his husband and pulled him into his arms. "It's okay."

"No it's not! I-I hurt you! I punched you and yelled at you and look at your legs! I did that!" He cried against Bucky's shoulder.

"You weren't the one holding the blade."

"I might as well have been!"

"Well, I love you still."

"I love you too. So much, Bucky, so much."

"I know, doll. But..." Bucky's voice trailed off.

"But what?" Steve sniffled, trying to control his crying.

"Did you mean what you said?"

"No! Of course I didn't mean what I said, sweetheart. I had a shitty day and dealt with it the worst way possible. And I'm so sorry, it won't happen again."

Bucky smiled slightly. "Good, because if it does I'll be calling Sam to come kick your ass."

Steve laughed lightheartedly. "You won't have to, it's never going to happen again."

Bucky nodded. "Alright, I'm holding you to that."

"Can we go lay down? I just want to be close to you."

"Let's go, Stevie." Bucky said, hauling him off the floor and carrying him to their bed. He threw the bloody blankets to the floor and got clean ones from the closet.

"I'm sorry." Steve repeated, his head on Bucky's chest.

"I know, you told me a few times already." Bucky reminded him, tracing patterns on his back.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to say it enough."

"You already have."