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The first time it happens, Bucky doesn’t think much of it. It’s such a casual, fleeting move that it nearly flies over his head. He chalks it up to be Steve’s odd, sort of awkward brand of affection. After transforming into the super-soldier of the century, Steve’s perceived swagger grew tenfold. But the serum did little to sway his funny tendencies that Bucky always noticed.
So when Steve abruptly reaches out and grabs Bucky’s wrist, long fingers clasping tightly around the bone momentarily before returning to his lap, Bucky rides it off as just that. A funny tendency. A weird moment of compassion.
He looks over at Steve, shooting him a smile and getting one in return. But there’s a strange look on Steve’s face that Bucky can’t quite decipher. Something like discomfort, but he’s not really sure. It’s so subtle, that he probably would have missed it if he didn’t know Steve so well.
He wouldn’t be at all surprised if Steve were feeling a bit overwhelmed right now. They were at one of Tony’s extravagant little press dinners, surrounded by dozens of photographers and even more noise. It’s hardly anyone’s preferred scene, but Steve especially disliked the crowds. It wasn’t a prevalent issue. Steve was perfectly capable of handling things out of his comfort zone- hopping 70 years in the future with no warning would force anyone to adjust to that notion. But that didn’t stop the uneasiness from being there. Bucky wasn’t too fond of the atmosphere either.
“You okay?” Bucky murmurs, careful not to alert anyone around them.
Steve nods once, his smile having transformed to a more reserved one, “Yup.”
He looks like he wants to say something else, but Pepper had started saying something to the crowd, demanding their attention. Steve bites his lip a little, looking outwardly annoyed.
Bucky’s gaze lingers on him for another moment before he, too, looks towards the sea of reporters.
XXX
Steve’s pacing.
The others are getting annoyed, Bucky can sense it. It’s quiet on the Quinjet, save for the occasional cough and whirring of the engine. They’re somewhere over Ukraine, Bucky thinks, but he’s not entirely sure.
The mission had been a fairly simple one. A run of the mill hostage situation at one of Hydra’s safehouses located just outside of Moscow. It’d gone over smoothly considering, with minimal collateral damage and a surprising lack of teamwide injuries.
But something had rubbed Steve the wrong way and it was clearly still eating at him. Granted, Bucky hadn’t exactly had a picnic on the mission either. Being around Hydra for the first time since his Winter Soldier days was not what he categorized as particularly therapeutic, but Steve’s behavior was just plain weird. His anxiety was never this palpable.
Usually, Bucky could figure out what was bothering him from a single look, but maybe he was losing his Steve Perception. Or maybe it had just been too damn long.
“Would you quit the pacing, Capsicle? It’s making me dizzy,” Tony sinks down in his seat, scrubbing a hand over his face and fixing Steve with an impressive glare.
“Tony…” Natasha scolds quietly, but even she looks slightly relieved when Steve freezes.
He seems to come back to himself, eyes darting to each of their faces before clenching his jaw.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, nose scrunching as he drops into the closest seat. He immediately starts bouncing his leg, finger clicking against the armrest.
Bucky exchanges a look with Sam, who shrugs, but says nothing. Then, Steve is out of his chair, crossing haphazardly to where Bucky’s seated.
“Hey, what’s-” Bucky starts, but he’s cut off by Steve reaching down to grab his wrist, squeezing just hard enough for Bucky to feel his pulse throb. Bucky watches Steve’s face as his eyes narrow in focus.
Steve lets go a moment later, nodding decisively before linking their fingers together. He seems to relax after that.
XXX
“Hey, man, you down to come on a run with us?”
Bucky blinks at Sam, mind still foggy with sleep. He’s hovering by the elevator on the other end of the common area, lacing his headphones through his shirt. Steve is knelt at his feet, tying his shoes.
“Uhhh,” Bucky yawns, scrubbing the bridge of his nose. He really didn’t want to go running. Doing things in the morning didn’t really fly with him. But, he was up for once, so why not?
“Yeah, sure,” he says, gesturing towards the bathroom, “Will you wait up like five minutes for me to, like, boot up?”
Sam laughs and Steve cracks a smile.
“Boot up, huh?” Sam chuckles, “Yeah, take your time, sergeant.”
Ten minutes later, they’re jogging in companionable silence through the local park. It’s nice, pleasant. Bucky isn’t usually up early enough to see parts of the city when it’s nearly empty. His lungs burn slightly, only enough for him to be comfortably out of breath.
“Shit, y’all,” Sam pants after a few miles, skidding to a stop and bracing his hands on his knees, “I can’t keep up with that fuckin’ serum,” he crosses to a nearby bench, “Let’s take five.”
Steve and Bucky exchange amused glances, but follow him nonetheless. Bucky settles onto the wooden bench, head tilting up to stare at the treetops. Birds are starting to chirp loudly now and he smiles. He’d always liked the sound of birds in the morning. It was like it was their responsibility to wake up the world and they fulfilled that duty every morning without fail. Birds were pretty neat. He could see why Sam admired them so much.
He drops his head to look at Steve as he nestles closer to him, aligning their shoulders and thighs. Smiling, Bucky links an arm around Steve’s back, pulling him closer. Steve makes a little pleased noise and shifts closer to kiss Bucky’s neck.
The action is a bit surprising, but Bucky keeps his face neutral. It’s not even really a kiss. More like a firm press of his lips right under Bucky’s jaw. Almost as soon as he leans in, Steve shifts away again, looking contented.
“You two are gross,” Sam deapans, raising his eyebrows and taking a long sip from his water bottle.
Steve blushes, standing up again, “Can it, Wilson. You and Nat are worse.”
Sam squawks indignantly, standing as well, “We are not!” But Steve has already taken off again, flipping Sam off lazily over his shoulder.
“I fuckin’ hate you, Rogers,” Sam calls, starting after him.
Bucky scoffs, clambering up from the bench to chase after his friends.
XXX
A hand grasping firmly at Bucky’s bicep pulls him firmly from his sleep. He sits up, squinting as he tries to adjust his eyes to the darkness. The hand is still gripping his arm, tightening its hold until he has to fight against releasing a pained hiss.
Any hint of drowsiness seeps away as he turns to find Steve staring at him helplessly, eyes wide and frantic. His breathing is erratic, barreling in and out of his mouth at a speed that sounds painful. Bucky was eerily reminded of when Steve would have asthma attacks, the same sort of breathless hopelessness radiating off of him.
The hand that isn’t holding Bucky is fisted in his hair, pulling hard, and Bucky immediately reaches out his metal arm to ease it away.
“Hey,” he mutters, “Careful, don’t hurt yourself.”
He takes a moment to assess the situation, ignoring his own heart beating frantically in his chest. Nightmare, most definitely. Probably a bad one if he actually took the initiative to wake Bucky up. Bucky swallows. Seeing Steve vulnerable was always an unsettling thing, but he would never tell him that. He needed to be a neutral source for him. Someone he could confide in, guilt-free.
“Buck- I-” Steve sounds like he’s choking, “You-”
“Hey, nah, breathe first, talk second,” Bucky says a little too quickly. He takes a measured breath and starts over, “What do you need, Steve?”
He trains his voice to stay firm and calm, hoping that some of that energy will translate over to Steve. Steve shakes his head, a little sob escaping his lips.
“I don’t- I don’t know,” His arm twitches, like he wants to reach for his hair again, but Bucky keeps his grip firm.
“Ya gotta slow down, pal,” Bucky urges, desperately trying to think of a way to ground him, “hold your breath next time you breath in.”
They hold eye contact as Steve tries, but when it breaks off into a coughing fit, Bucky purses his lips.
“Wrist,” Steve gasps.
Bucky frowns, “What?”
“Your wrist,” Steve says, a little more solidly this time, “Lemme-”
Still holding one of Steve’s hands with his metal arm, Bucky turns his flesh wrist over towards him. Steve clasps it with a shaking hand, maneuvering his pointer and middle finger right over his pulse point. Oh.
“Here,” Bucky says, carefully removing Steve’s fingers from his wrist and spreading his palm over his heart, “My heartbeat ain’t slow right now, I’m sorry, but-”
“Just needa feel it, Buck,” Steve manages.
Bucky nods, watching him, “Yeah, okay, whatever you need, Stevie,” he keeps his voice low, soothing.
After a few minutes, Steve’s breathing evens out. He clears his throat, removing his hand from Bucky’s chest, patting it awkwardly before holding his wrist again.
They sit in silence, both staring at their hands.
“Do you wanna tell me about it?” Bucky asks, lightly.
There’s a pregnant pause, then, “Sometimes I don’t know if I really have you back,” his tone is small, subdued, “Like, you’re here so plainly, but sometimes I just get flashes of...of when you...weren’t.”
“The train?” Bucky ventures.
Steve nods, “And the helicarrier and Bucharest and...just yeah. When you weren’t with me. And I just need to make sure you’re really...alive? I guess?”
Bucky’s looks at a place on the wall over Steve’s shoulder, suddenly remembering each time Steve would grab for his wrist, never actually holding his hand. Or when he’d not quite kiss his neck. It made sense. It would be endearing if the reasoning weren’t so upsetting.
“I’m here, Stevie, really,” Bucky says, looking back at Steve and tapping his chin to get him to look up.
“No, I know,” Steve sounds frustrated, “I know you are. Just, I needa do more than know it. I needa feel it.”
“Okay,” Bucky says, smiling faintly, “we can work with that, pal.”
Steve smiles back. It’s tired, but genuine, “Thanks, Buck.”
XXX
“-Aight, for this next mission, we’re gonna have to do a lil study abroad type deal again. No, not back to Russia, but the lovely Deutschland is awaiting our presence, which’ll be nice to visit when we’re not tragically divided into two teams and at each other’s throats, so…”
Bucky can feel Steve tensing at Tony’s words, fingers starting to fidget with the hem of his shirt. Discreetly, he drops his arm in Steve’s lap and smiles faintly when he feels Steve place his fingers over the pulse point.
“Thank you,” Steve whispers, low enough so only Bucky can hear.
“Always,” Bucky breathes back.
And he means it.