Closed RP with [Punched-Hitler]

[make_it_hurt]

He woke up slowly. It was an unusual feeling, to wake to nothing more than his body's own sleep cycle, instead of being woken up by harsh hands and pain. He honestly hadn't been expecting to wake up, sure that he was dead, sure that the bullet they had put in his chest should have killed him.

Instead, Bucky Barnes woke up in a hospital bed, oxygen line hooked over his ears, the steady beeping and whirring of machinery all around him. Everything hurt - his broken ankle, the bruises on his legs from beatings, the lash marks over his back. It is nearly torture to breathe, his chest wrapped tightly in bandages. This wasn't the dark, dank cellar he had spent (as close as he could figure ) six or seven months in. He looked around, head tilting from side to side listlessly, looking for family or a nurse or something.

His attention was caught by his left arm - or, rather, what was left of it, which wasn't much.

Days into his capture they'd started cutting off his fingers, one at a time, and sending him to his mother - to the President - in an attempt to get her to give in to their demands.

Then they'd started working their way up his arm, more as punishment than anything, before infection had set in and they had kept cutting back and back and back in an attempt to keep their bargaining chip from dying.

The stump of his left arm was wrapped in neat cotton bandages and Bucky swallowed hard, lifting his other hand to his lips, feeling them quiver against his fingers.

He finally asked, voice trembling, "Mom?"

She had to be here. She had been there for him his entire life growing up, there every time he got sick, even when she was on the election trail. If she couldn't get to him, they would talk over the internet for as long as it took until he fell asleep.

Bucky looked around, digging his ragged nails into his lower lip. "Mom?" He shifted, trying to sit up, and was instantly caught by the mess of wires and tubing around him. He laid back, blinking back tears.

She came almost at a run, heels clacking, the door swinging shut behind her. "Bucky!" She nearly collapsed onto Bucky's bed, grabbing his hand in both of her own. "You're awake, thank god." She reached forward and ran her fingers through his hair and he was suddenly aware that it was long enough to touch his chin.

He smiled up at her, feeling the knot in his chest ease. Bucky sagged back against his pillows and sighed slightly, letting her rub her thumb over the back of his hand. "I missed you, Mom."

"I missed you, too. Here, are you comfortable? Do you need another pillow?" She let go of his hand and started to fuss with his blankets and pillows, adjusting them around him nervously.

"I'm fine. Tired, but fine." He closed his eyes for a long moment then asked, opening them again, "I'm really here, right?"

She nodded. "You're really here, Bucky." She folded her hand over his. "Get some rest, I'll be right here, okay?" She smiled and watched Bucky drift off again, body falling limp. But it wasn't the same sort of boneless as before, the unconsciousness after being brought in, after all the surgeries. It was the unconsciousness of somebody asleep of their own volition.

She looked up once she was sure Bucky was asleep and stood back up, placing his hand on his stomach. President Barnes crossed back over to the door and pulled it open. "I'm sorry, Captain. Maybe you should come in and we can continue our discussion?" She stepped back.

Bucky drifted awake for just a moment, long enough to see his mother across the room talking to somebody that looked vaguely familiar. Before Bucky could place the face, he was asleep again.

Comments

[punched_hitler]

It was a little hard for Steve not to notice the posters on the walls - all of them - but he stayed silent. This was Bucky's private room, after all, and he hadn't expected to be dragging Captain America into it, he suspected. Okay, some of those posters were a little... well, Steve's past as an Army captain had been filled with guys' tents featuring half-naked women. The half-naked men in a guy's room was a little new.

Still, he managed to keep his expression neutral as he watched Bucky maneuver into the bed. He was just about to take a seat in the chair when Bucky sat up again, startling Steve a little. But - oh, yeah, he could relate. He still had a hard time, sleeping on a bed, even after a couple of years of living in relative luxury. He had been about to offer Bucky the cot - but actually, by the time he managed to open his mouth, Bucky had made himself a nice little nest on the floor and all but passed out.

Steve couldn't help but smile, just a little - yeah, it was sort of a familiar sight, although he did realize that it meant Bucky had been through so much... it would take a lot of time to undo. Maybe some of it couldn't be undone. The arm definitely couldn't. But hopefully Bucky would stop feeling so wrong, being back home, being around people. Even if it took time... Steve was sure he'd pull through, in that respect.

Once he was sure Bucky was asleep, he moved, going to check on the sleeping form, pulling the blanket up a little, making sure the oxygen line was secure and wasn't going to tangle. He eyed the cot, but he was a little worried that if he laid down on it... he'd be out, in a heavy sleep sense, and he didn't want that. So instead, he moved to sit on the floor next to Bucky, his back to the bed, body in a ready position, and let himself doze.

[make_it_hurt]

Bucky didn't even stir when Steve pulled up the blanket around his shoulders and checked on his oxygen line.

He slept deeply for a few hours, just until he hit the deepest part of his sleep cycle and was soon twitching in his sleep, curling into a tighter ball, fingers clenching in the blanket.

Bucky groaned and whispered, "No, please... Not..." He jerked and let out a pained moan, back arching.

He hadn't had nightmares in the hospital, at least not to the point that he was talking aloud, until after they had switched him from the morphine drip to codine for the lingering pain in both ankles and his stump.

Bucky whimpered, tucking even tighter, right arm going around his head in a position that was intensely defensive.

[punched_hitler]

The longer Bucky slept, the longer Steve dozed. Given the position he was in, he wasn't in a deep enough sleep to dream, himself - he didn't want to risk that. Until there was someone close at hand that he trusted implicitly, he wouldn't let himself actually sleep deep enough to dream.

At the first sounds of distress, Steve jerked awake, looking around, hands coming up into a defensive posture. But then he realized the sounds weren't because of an attack - they were because of a nightmare. He frowned; Bucky had had nightmares before, but they hadn't been quite this bad. He moved, turning his body toward Bucky's, and risked putting a hand - just the flat of his palm - carefully on his back. He didn't want to shake or grab him, that would just make things worse.

"Bucky," he said softly, just letting the heat and weight from his palm seep through the blankets. "Bucky, wake up." If he had to do more to wake him up, he would, but Steve was hoping Bucky wasn't so deeply lost in that dream that it would take a lot more. That might scare him, whether Steve meant to or not.

[make_it_hurt]

Bucky cried out when Steve first touched his back, jerking away from the touch, but it didn't seem to be enough to wake him up.

He let out a moan of fear and continued to huddle in on himself. Then Steve spoke.

His eyes fluttered open and though he didn't relax, he did look around, right arm uncurling. He had tangled his oxygen line around his arm. "Steve?" He lifted his head and looked around, disoriented for a moment. Then he remembered he was asleep on the floor in his bedroom, Steve's hand on his back.

Bucky rubbed his hand against his face, involuntary tears welling up. He sniffled and sat up, turning his face from Steve for a moment, embarrassed, as he swiped the tears off his cheeks. "Thanks, Steve."

He scooted in closer to Steve, dragging his blankets with him, and curled against his side, toes worming under Steve's thigh for warmth.

[punched_hitler]

Steve almost pulled back - but didn't. He just tried to keep his touch light and let Bucky know he was safe, even if he was still asleep. He was just about to try to do a little more to wake Bucky up when the other's eyes opened; he seemed to be awake, but still jumpy, which was understandable. "Easy," Steve said quietly. "It's me. You're safe." That was all Bucky would care to hear, he figured, and he wasn't going to say a thing about the dream unless Bucky wanted to talk about it. Everyone had nightmares. You couldn't control them. That didn't make you a weak person.

He let Bucky have a moment for himself - though when Bucky scooted in closer, he looked a little surprised (but not unhappy). Well, if serving as a bed was part of serving as a bodyguard... it wasn't so bad. He did take the opportunity to disentangle the oxygen line carefully, whether or not Bucky was actually paying attention. "Don't mention it," he said, and he meant it, trying to pull Bucky's blankets up around him again, if he was cold. Since the serum, Steve had always run pretty hot - he was basically a personal furnace, though not a lot of people had had the chance to find that out. Bucky probably was, though, right about now. The uniform could actually be adjusted to hide his heat signature, if he needed stealth, but that wasn't the case right now.

[make_it_hurt]

Bucky hummed, tucking his head into Steve's shoulder, "You're pretty warm," he mumbled. "You can watch TV or something if you want to..."

He slid his arm around Steve, grabbing a handful of shirt.

Bucky was soon drifting back off to sleep even though he didn't mean to. He rarely got back to sleep after a nightmare, but Steve was warm and he was stressed, so it was easy enough.

[Wanna skip til maybe Bucky is up and about? I kind of want to get him a dog, much against his mother's wishes]

[punched_hitler]

"Yeah," was Steve's absent reply - he knew he was warm, although it wasn't something he thought about much. But if it would help Bucky relax, then he was thankful for it, just at the moment. He hummed noncommittally when Bucky said he could watch TV - he might, in a while, but for now, he figured he'd just keep an eye on Bucky and be ready to wake him up if he needed that help again. Otherwise, he might doze some more, because if he wasn't really going to sleep deeply, then he needed all the light dozing he could get to stay sharp.

[Absolutely! A DOG WOULD BE SO CUTE, Steve will help you convince your mom, Bucky!]

[make_it_hurt]

[Was thinking more like Bucky makes Steve take him to the shelter "just to look" then adopts a dog anyways.]

Bucky was up and walking full-time a month or so later, the cast off his foot, the oxygen done with, at least unless he started having trouble breathing again. He still limped, but probably always would. His hair was still long, though it had been trimmed to make it look less like it had grown out of a short haircut.

"Steve, let's go do something. I'm tired of laying around all day." He sat up, closing his laptop and leaving it in the nest that was his bed - mattress on the floor and blankets and pillows everywhere. It had been a compromise. Bucky had wanted to keep sleeping on the floor, but instead he had settled for a hard mattress on the floor, the old bedframe moved out.

"I want to go to the shelter and look at dogs."

[punched_hitler]

[EVEN CUTER I love it~ :3]

Bucky had come a long way in a month. Steve was pleased to see him working so hard at getting better, and had helped however he could, but the truth was, Bucky had really done all of the work himself. All Steve had really done was make sure that he was safe while he was doing it. By now, Steve had a hand-picked team of a few other agents he trusted enough to help him out. At least that meant he could actually let himself sleep for a couple of hours every night, even though he still saw it as his primary responsibility to take care of Bucky first, and himself second.

He glanced up at Bucky from the desk chair, where he'd been (kind of covertly) trying to make a sketch of Bucky as he worked on the laptop one-handed, because it was an interesting pose. Of course, his sketchbook was facing away from Bucky, so he couldn't see it - which was good, because he probably should have asked permission, first. He closed it quickly, tilting his head at the sudden change in plans. "Dogs? I - well, if you really want to." Bucky wasn't a prisoner, and he wasn't under house arrest. He could go anywhere he wanted, he just hadn't seemed to want to go many places.

[make_it_hurt]

Bucky sprang to his feet, grabbing for his wallet and sunglasses. "Yeah, let's go. Just me and you." He knew Steve would probably object to that, but he didn't care much. He shoved his wallet into his pants, hung his sunglasses on his shirt before looking for his cell phone. Then remembered that the FBI still had it.

He hadn't left the house much, making only a few half-hearted attempts to get himself in the papers so people wouldn't think he had vanished or anything again.

[punched_hitler]

Steve did pause to consider the request for a moment. On the one hand, he wanted to bring backup. Who knew who was watching or waiting for Bucky, out there? On the other hand... just the two of them would be much less conspicuous. And maybe inconspicuous should be the name of the game, at the moment.

After a long pause, he finally nodded. "Fine." He had a concealed firearm - he didn't use them often, but he knew how to use them - and he also had the reflexes and resources to get them out of a tight spot, if a problem arose. "But stick close, all right?" There, that was a reasonable rule to have.

[make_it_hurt]

"Yes!" Bucky grinned. He could stick close to Steve, that would be pretty easy. He left the room and told the agents outside his room, "Just me and Steve today, sorry boys." He headed for the garage, unable to keep the swagger out of his steps.

He was more like the Bucky he had been before being kidnapped - a teenager.

[punched_hitler]

Before Steve could even finish saying, "Okay," Bucky had practically bounded out of the room. Steve couldn't help but grin, tossing a half-salute at the guards as they passed, smiling helplessly. "Just keep your radios on," he advised them, before following Bucky through the halls to their destination of the garage. Bucky seemed to really be enjoying the idea of going out, even on a small adventure like this one, and Steve honestly couldn't blame him. He'd been feeling a little bit of cabin fever, himself, even if he'd never let it affect his performance at his job.

"I hope you know where we're going," he teased gently.

[make_it_hurt]

"Yeah, I do!" He grinned back at Steve. "Can I drive?" He paused at the garage, looking out at all the cars that were available. Steve would probably want one of the drivers to drive an armored car, but it didn't hurt to ask. He hadn't driven in nine months, and certainly never with only one arm.

[punched_hitler]

Steve did have to pause and look at Bucky with a wry smile on his face. "I don't know. Can you?" He wanted Bucky to stop and think for a minute - as far as he was aware, Bucky was already out of practice. Then there was the fact that he didn't know how to maneuver a steering wheel with one hand. After a beat, he added, "I think we should probably avoid you crashing us into a lightpole the first time out, huh?" He'd be happy to let Bucky drive a short distance, slowly, in an unoccupied area. But just now? It probably wasn't a good idea, pal.

[make_it_hurt]

Bucky made a farting noise with his mouth then sighed. "Alright, fine. Are you driving? Can I pick the car?" He was already heading towards one but didn't get in, just waited by the door. It was good that he wasn't driving. He knew it was a bad idea to try and drive in traffic with only one hand.

[punched_hitler]

Steve just shook his head, trying not to laugh - but at least Bucky was backing down (relatively) graciously. He nodded at the question, though; "Yeah, I can drive," and at least followed Bucky to the car, looking it over. He'd learned how to drive using a manual, of course, but he'd also learned how to handle an automatic transmission since waking up in the 21st century. "You'll just have to direct me."

[make_it_hurt]

"Sure." Bucky clambered into the car, dragging the door shut behind him. This was his car - not really flashy enough for him, but someday he would have a better, nicer car. Something fast and sleek. He reached forward, poking the address to the shelter into the GPS.

Truthfully, he wasn't going to the shelter to just look at dogs. He'd been wanting one for a long time, and had done a lot of reading up on the effects of pets on trauma survivors.

But he never would have been allowed. But if he got a dog and was seen in public with it, his mother would never be able to tell him he couldn't keep it.

[punched_hitler]

The car seemed plenty nice to Steve, but then, he'd never actually owned a car. Okay, he could have, but the motorcycle worked just fine and it got him where he needed to go. He kind of liked it - but he liked this car, too, making sure Bucky was secure in the seat before getting them moving in the right direction. They had to get through a couple of guard stations to even get off the property, but once they saw who Bucky was with, it wasn't a problem. Pretty soon, they were on the road, and he couldn't help but glance over at Bucky wryly. "So... why a dog?"

[make_it_hurt]

"I just want to get out, and since none of my friends have bothered to call me, or even try to call me, maybe they're not my friends anymore." Bucky looked over at Steve. "I'm used to being used. I just thought they would make an attempt." He bit his bottom lip. "And why not a dog? I've wanted a dog since I was a kid. Wanted a cat, before that, but Mom's allergic." He sighed and looked out the window, resting his head on the glass. Unlike his last car trip, when he'd been on the verge of a panic attack, the world still too fresh and too close after all he had been through, he now felt like he was in a bubble, insulated against the outside world. It was just him and Steve in here and nobody else. There was nobody outside clamoring for his attention or a photo.

"Dogs don't ask questions, either. They don't expect anything of you, don't have any plans for the future for you. You know, I totally forgot I was applying to colleges? I come back and there's all these emails... I missed my senior year of high school, so I'm going to have to take that over again."

Bucky looked over at Steve. "Not that I'm getting a dog. We're just going to look." But if Steve could infer that Bucky was planning on adopting a dog, then Bucky wasn't going to tell him otherwise.

[punched_hitler]

Steve frowned, glancing at Bucky briefly before looking back to the road. "Maybe they're not sure how to talk to you, after what you've been through. They might be trying to give you distance, not push you away." Of course, he didn't know for sure, and he didn't know anything about Bucky's friends, either. But was it really fair to write all of them off, just like that? "It might be worth being the person who reaches out first." Not that he'd push, but he'd just suggest it. That was all.

"Well, maybe retaking that year will give you a chance to figure things out," Steve suggested, trying to smile a bit. "No one expects you to have a plan overnight. And if they're smart, no one will expect the plan you have to still apply now." Because things like this could change a person, and that was just the way it worked.

He was, though, starting to suspect that Bucky wanted to actually get a dog. "Uh-huh," he said, not sounding convinced, as they turned onto the street where the shelter was. "Okay. We're just going to look."

[make_it_hurt]

Bucky shrugged. He'd been on Facebook since he'd been back, and apart from a few messages of the generic type - glad you're back, saw what happened on the news - there was nothing else. No indication that any of them wanted to see him, or talk to him, just blankness. He'd unfriended most all of them, though had found Steve's page and sent a request.

When they stopped in front of the shelter, Bucky clambered out of the car. "Yeah, we're just looking." He smiled and tucked his hand in his pocket.

He headed for the front door and paused, waiting for Steve to catch up.

[punched_hitler]

Steve was one of those guys that had a Facebook page, but wasn't attached to it. Though when he did actually log onto a computer, he'd certainly return the friend request. Honestly, if he was ever bored, Bucky might be able to help Steve keep track of all these online accounts, because sometimes they felt overwhelming. Even after a year or two out of the ice, it was still hard to process being able to reach essentially anyone, from anywhere, at any time.

"Okay," Steve said knowingly, making sure the car was parked and locked up. He was glad he wasn't in uniform - okay, sure, the uniform was good for publicity, but it was also pretty obvious. He wanted people looking at Bucky - for the right reasons - and not at Steve, if Bucky was going to pull what he thought he was going to pull. He jogged the few steps up to the door, and pulled open the door. "Have at, boss."

[make_it_hurt]

Bucky grinned and stepped into the lobby of the shelter. The place was almost deserted, with only a couple of people behind the desk. The door at the other side of the room was closed, but the barking behind it obviously led to the kennels.

Bucky headed through that door and was instantly diving down one of the rows of cages. He'd been on the shelter's website looking at the dogs already and had a couple in mind.

He most mostly after a puppy, so he wouldn't have to worry about any bad habits, but wasn't opposed to an older dog.

He headed down the row, pausing every few kennels to speak to one of the dogs or read their little biography on the door of the kennel. "See anybody you like, Steve?"

[punched_hitler]

Bucky seemed to head into that place with a goal in mind; Steve couldn't help but smile, greeting the staff members at the desk with a wave and following Bucky through the door to the kennels.

He, too, glanced through the dogs and their biographies, squatting down to give a couple of them some scratches behind the ears as they pressed their noses to the bars, clearly seeking attention. "Oh, one or two of these fellas look like good candidates. It depends on how large a dog you're planning to - ah, take for a walk," he teased, because it was so very clear by now that Bucky planned on taking one of these dogs for a walk, all the way back to the White House. "We should probably find someone who's not likely to cause too much trouble."