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Bucky had trouble sleeping at night. They (he, Steve, and Dr. Harding, his therapist) all supposed it was because Bucky hadn’t maintained a regular sleep schedule in decades, staying awake for days at a time for missions, being frozen in the in-between... He had to learn how to sleep properly all over again, and he struggled. Some nights he might get an hour or two, others none at all... he’d found, in the last couple of days, that sneaking into Steve’s room, and curling up next to him helped him sleep just a little more peacefully that he ever could on his own, and Steve had told him that if he ever wanted to join him in his room, Steve was okay with it.
It was late, nearly one in the morning, and Bucky had decided to give up sleeping on his own that night. He felt exhausted, but sleeping alone left him too uneasy, and he’d decided to take Steve up on his offer.
But when he crept across the hall into Steve’s bedroom... he found it empty.
Bucky’s heart immediately started beating faster, fearing something was wrong. Steve always went to bed early so that he could get up in the morning to go running. In his time back, he’d never known Steve to go out so late, not without saying something to him... If there had been a struggle, Bucky would have heard it--and if someone had come to take Steve, there was no doubt in Bucky’s mind that there would have been a struggle.
His heart was racing as he crept down the hall, every one of his senses on high alert, until... from the hallway, he spotted Steve, sitting in the living room on the couch, sipping at a glass of milk, his body slumped and his face looking ragged. Bucky immediately took a breath, relieved that Steve wasn’t in life-threatening danger... but Bucky didn’t have to observe Steve long to realize that... something was wrong.
Steve looked troubled. Bucky was still relearning how to recognize emotions, but it was different with Steve. He could read him easier somehow, and though Steve usually had on a pretty happy face, Bucky wasn’t so self-absorbed that he couldn’t see when Steve was having a rough time, even if he wasn’t sure quite what to do about it yet. Steve didn’t really come to him with his troubles; he mostly seemed to unwind upon talking to Sam or Natasha, and Bucky was just happy to see Steve being taken care of.
But Steve was upset now, and neither Sam nor Natasha were available to help, and Bucky thought maybe that he wasn’t even supposed to see this, but... here he was. With everything Steve was doing for him, Bucky at least owed it to Steve to try to do something for him. He wanted to do something for him.
“Steve,” he spoke up gently, announcing his presence.
Steve jumped a little, and the look flew off his face, replaced by something more neutral, something with the hint of a smile that Bucky could easily see was forced.
“Hey, Buck,” Steve said, a heaviness to his tone that he clearly hadn’t been able to shake. “Trouble sleeping?”
Bucky knew the question was pointless. They both knew Bucky had trouble sleeping, it was just a way to deflect. He took a little step towards Steve and said, “I could ask you the same thing.”
The corner of Steve’s mouth twitched upwards just a bit. “Yeah,” he admitted, giving an absent nod. “I guess you could.”
Bucky frowned gently, unsure of himself, of what he was supposed to do, of how he was supposed to help. He almost considered a retreat, then thought better of it; he wasn’t a coward. “Can I... join you?”
Steve looked at him and gave a second of pause before he nodded, “Yeah, of course, Buck.”
Bucky crossed the room, and Steve scooted over a bit on the couch to let Bucky take a seat next to him.
Silence fell over them for a touch and Bucky tried to think about how to approach this as he watched Steve take a slow sip at the glass.
“Milk?” he asked curiously, knowing the attempt at conversation was poor, but it was better than silence.
“Warm milk,” Steve amended with a gentle smile and he offered the glass to Bucky.
Bucky hesitated a second, his immediate impulse being to turn it away because for a long time such offers had always been insincere and thinking he could accept led to punishment, but he took a breath, and reminded himself that this was Steve and that Steve’s offers were always sincere.
He took the glass from Steve’s hand. The cup was warm to the touch, which was already soothing, and he took his own sip. The milk slipped easily down his throat, filling his chest and stomach with a tiny warmth, and he thought he understood the choice, handing the glass carefully back and saying, “Thank you.”
Steve gave a nod and smiled a bit wryly. “Most people would have a nightcap to fall asleep, but alcohol doesn’t work on me, so... warm milk is the next best thing.”
“It’s nice,” Bucky agreed, looking over Steve, trying to figure out how to proceed... Tact was still far beyond him at this point. His best bet was just to be direct because he didn’t know any other way to breach the subject. “What’s wrong?”
Steve looked a bit surprised to have been asked, but he shook his head and said, “It’s nothing.”
Clearly that wasn’t the case, and Bucky countered, “It’s keeping you awake.”
Steve gave a tiny shrug. “I’ll fall asleep eventually. You don’t have to worry about it.”
Bucky frowned. He wasn’t getting the result he wanted and he wasn’t exactly sure if there was some other tactic to use other than just being honest. “I... want to worry about it, though,” he said, his brow furrowing. “You’ve helped me with so much, I want to help you too.”
A conflicted little smile made its way onto Steve’s face and he seemed to consider the statement for a moment, before speaking up carefully, “Thanks, Bucky. But... it’s really not a big deal. I don’t want you worrying about it.”
“Look, I... I know I’m not... Sam or Natasha,” Bucky continued, insisting a bit more. “Hell, I’m barely even Bucky... I might not know how to help, but... I want to try.”
Steve frowned a little bit more, the resolve in his eyes clearly fading. “It’s not like that, Buck. You’ve just... got a lot on your plate right now. You don’t need my crap on top of yours.”
Bucky gently shook his head in protest. “You’re the only reason I even have a plate, Steve,” Bucky said reasonably. “You took on my crap without even thinking about it. And if my crap is your crap, then your crap needs to be mine too. It’s not fair any other way.”
Steve’s eyes were fixed on him for a moment, his expression softening into something sad, before he slumped again, and his gaze turned to the floor. He sighed and said fondly, “You’re more Bucky than you realize. You might not have all the memories, but... your heart’s the same.”
“Then talk to me,” Bucky requested, not understanding why Steve wouldn’t just come out and say it as the words tightened the corner of Steve’s mouth just so and Bucky’s heart throbbed, his brow furrowed. “Unless... it’s about me?”
Steve immediately tensed and Bucky had his answer, no matter how sickening the idea was. His stomach worked itself quickly into knots and he faltered, “Whatever I did, I... I’m sorry, I--”
“No, Bucky, it’s not like that,” Steve protested quickly.
“But whatever you’re upset over, it’s got to do with me,” Bucky replied.
“Yeah, but not like -that-,” Steve insisted, shaking his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then what is it?” Bucky asked, feeling more tense now than before, sure that he had done something wrong (because how could have NOT done something wrong, it was impossible that he hadn’t screwed up something, even if Steve was trying to soften the blow). When Steve was silent, Bucky insisted, “Please.”
Bucky watched Steve suck in a slow breath, watched him tense, before he finally spoke up, his voice soft and strained, “I screwed up, Buck.”
Bucky frowned a bit more, unsure what Steve could mean by that. “Screwed up what?”
“Everything,” Steve said, “You.” He took another breath, trying to steady himself, “When you fell off the train. I... I didn’t jump after you. I should have jumped after you. None of this... none of it would have happened if I’d just jumped after you. Hydra couldn’t have taken you. They couldn’t have hurt you. They couldn’t have made you hurt anyone else.”
Bucky felt his heart sinking. He’d never even really considered it. Even in the memories that had come back, he’d never stopped to consider that Steve might have been able to jump after him. In fact, the idea felt immediately... wrong. Bucky knew that he never would have wanted Steve to jump after him. He never would have wanted Steve to risk his life for him like that. “Don’t,” Bucky said softly. “Don’t think like that. It’s not your fault. Maybe I didn’t die from the fall, but it was damn near close. It might have even just been dumb luck that let me live. If you’d jumped, you could have died.”
Steve shook his head. “I’d have made it fine. I’ve jumped from a whole lot higher than that now and survived easy. I had the shield, I’d have been fine.”
“You didn’t know that then,” Bucky replied. His hand tentatively reached for Steve’s shoulder. “As far as you knew, you’d be jumping to your death. You had no reason to think that jumping would do anyone any good.”
Steve didn’t react though, to the words or to the touch. When he spoke up, it was just barely loud enough for Bucky to hear. “You jumped after me though.”
“What?”
“On the helicarrier. When I fell, you jumped after me,” Steve said, his voice thick and heavy, his face aimed towards the floor to keep as much of it hidden from Bucky as possible. “You... you barely even knew who I was and you still jumped right after me to save me.”
“Steve,” Bucky protested, shaking his head. That... wasn’t right. That wasn’t the right way to think about it. Steve shouldn’t blame himself for any of this.
“You were supposed to be my best friend, but I... I couldn’t even...” Steve’s voice faltered and his hands slipped over his face. “I should have saved you.”
Bucky could feel the soft tremor in Steve’s shoulder beneath his hand and he gave a little squeeze as he leaned into him. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t blame Steve for anything, and he didn’t want Steve blaming himself, but the words were jumbled and he could only feel the ache in his chest as Steve sat beside him and he suddenly almost-wished he had waited and let Sam handle this. Sam was... good at this. Sam would have known exactly what to say and wouldn’t have to sit here in a long, useless silence trying to figure it out.
“Steve, you... can’t compare it,” Bucky eventually started. “It’s not the same at all. When I jumped after you, I’d just shot you. Beat the shit out of you. It was my fault that you couldn’t just swim to safety, and... I didn’t remember much, but... I knew if you died, I couldn’t forgive myself. But... it wasn’t like jumping off the train. I was jumping into water. And the helicarrier was going down anyway, so jumping wasn’t any more dangerous than going down with it. But jumping off that train... no matter what you say, it could have killed you. You had no reason to think otherwise and nothing to make you think you could save me.”
Bucky slowly slid his arm across Steve’s back, and as he moved around Steve... Steve shifted as well. He turned into him, burying his face against his shoulder as Bucky’s arms settled around him just a bit uneasily. This was the first time in recent memory he’d been responsible for comforting someone and he didn’t want to screw it up.
“It’s not your fault,” Bucky murmured against Steve’s hair. “You don’t have to blame yourself. I don’t blame you. But if you need me to forgive you... you got it, okay? I forgive you. For everything.”
Steve nodded against him and his arms wrapped around his back, holding him tight, desperate, and Bucky returned the embrace. He knew there was no one right thing to say, and he knew this didn’t mean Steve would automatically forgive himself... but it was good that Bucky had persisted. Bucky needed Steve to know how he felt. He needed to tell him that he wasn’t anywhere close to blaming Steve for anything that had happened to him. It was important that Steve hear that from him.
They sat quietly for a time, wrapped up in each other. Bucky’s hands smoothed over Steve’s back the way Steve had done for him before and Bucky just held Steve close and tried to pour as much of what he felt for Steve into the embrace as possible.
He waited, until Steve’s grip on him had loosened, to say with a little smile, “Besides... if you had jumped off that train, I... think I’d have been pissed. If you’d survived the fall, I’m thinking I would’ve killed you.”
Steve let out a soft breath against his neck, a thankfully more mirthful sound. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”
Bucky’s smile became a bit easier. He always felt a little better when he understood himself, or was right about the things he would have thought or done.
Steve pulled back a little while later with an expression on his face that Bucky didn’t have the words for beyond that it was... warm and sweet, and Bucky felt... very special to be receiving such a look from Steve. Steve’s hand moved to brush through his hair, then cup his cheek, and Bucky felt himself relax into the touch, returning Steve’s smile with his own.
“Did you... wanna stay in my room tonight?” Steve asked, tentatively, hopefully.
Bucky nodded and Steve mirrored it, smiling just a little bit more.
“Then let’s go get some sleep,” Steve said, still smiling fondly. He stood up from the couch, and led Bucky with him back to his bedroom, pulling the covers down for the both of them as they crawled in.
With Steve by his side, his breathing slow and steady, his presence calm and reassuring, Bucky managed to sleep like a baby.