Tough Love

*I Started Writing This Before Civil War Came Out*

After finding Bucky in an abandoned warehouse with his arm stuck in a machine, Sam and Steve take him to Tony to get his arm fixed up. Almost immediately, the realize that fixing Bucky is going to be harder than they expected. He doesn't know who he is, can't do anything for himself, and barely talks. He see's Steve as his handler, which isn't how Steve wants to be seen.
Bucky slowly learns to trust Steve, talking more, and, eventually, he learns to love.


Bucky is super fucked up and Steve just wants what's best for him.
(Cover art belongs to its owners, and cover made on the Moldiv app)

*Battle of the Fandoms Comics Entry*


8. Chapter Seven

Steve's POV


Tony left the next day with a firm understanding of how Bucky's arm worked. He said that he'd start working on a light-weight prototype in his down time.

Of course, by downtime, I knew that he would do nothing but focus on it and get very little sleep, but I didn't argue with him because I knew how much Bucky's arm weighed on him both mentally and physically. Having a Stark made arm would probably be good for him, you know, if he wanted it. It was his choice. Everything was his choice.

Tony left right after breakfast, wanting to be able to fly home to his main lab and get to work as soon as possible, which was definitely not classified as 'downtime,' but whatever.

By the time that lunch came around, I was starting to get restless. Being cooped up in the house all the time doing nothing wasn't good for me. As we sat on the couch, I looked over at Bucky, who was on the other end. He was sitting perfectly still, the only movement was his chest rising and falling. Being still didn't bother him, neither did staying in the same place because as a sniper, you had to stay in the same position for hours at a time, waiting for the right shot.

"Hey Buck," I said, halfway through our second show, "I have an idea." He turned his head towards me, eyebrows furled together. "Follow me," I told him, standing up and walking out of the room.

Given this was one of Tony's less used houses, it wasn't fully equipped with a training room, but that didn't really matter. I took us outside, not worried about any camera's watching us because I knew that Tony liked his privacy, and there was no one around for miles.

Bucky followed me, to the yard, looking confused, but also like he was trying to hide it.

"If you want, we can spar," I said, giving Bucky the option.

He looked worried. "But I don't want to hurt you."

I smirked. "You don't have to worry about hurting me, but how about this. If I hurt you, you say 'stop' and I'll stop. If you hurt me, I'll tell you 'stop' and you stop, okay?" He nodded.

Bucky mirrored me as I took off my jacket and got in my stance. "Ready?" I asked and he nodded. "Go!"

There was no need for safe words.


We hit the sack earlier than normal, both being exhausted by the two hours of sparring. I made sure Bucky was sound asleep before I even considered going to bed, mostly because I wanted to make sure that he wouldn't try to run away while I was out of it.

Before I crawled into bed, I pulled out my phone and called Sam, like I always do before bed.

We talked briefly about how he was doing, but we mostly focused on Bucky.

"Yeah, I think he's going to let Tony build him a new arm," I told Sam, who I knew was smiling.

"That's great! He's really starting to trust people."

I nodded even though no one could see me. "I know, and we sparred today too after Tony left."

Sam was excited to hear that, him and I both loving that Bucky was making progress. Soon after tell him that, I yawned and I was ordered to go to bed.

"Will do, good night, Sam."

"Night, Cap."


I woke up to screaming. Doing the thing that came the most natural to me, I ran towards the sounds of pain.

"Steve!" Bucky shouted through the door. "Steve!"

Thinking Bucky was getting attacked, I barged into him room, but it was empty except for the bed.

Bucky was flailing, tangling himself in his blankets. As I got closer, I saw not only sweat covering his body, but tears streaming down his face. He was scratching at the scars where metal met flesh, causing himself to bleed.

"Steve!" He shouted again, his voice cracking this time. Sam would know what to do, but I didn't want Bucky to keep dreaming any longer than necessary, so I did what I thought was best.

I ran over to him and climbed on top, straddling his waist and holding his hands to his sides. I didn't stay in the position long though.

"Help!" he cried. "Steve!" Throughout his flailing, I was thrown off him and I landed on the floor.

"Bucky! Wake up!" I shouted. Not knowing what to do, I crawled into Bucky's bed, and when he turned in back in all his movement, I grabbed onto him and held him to my chest. "Buck, wake up, you're having a nightmare," I said in the calmest voice I could muster.

It took a few minutes, but eventually he stopped moving and relaxed against my chest.

"Steve?" he croaked, his voice breaking.

"It's okay, I'm here. It's just a nightmare. Try to breathe. It's okay, nightmares happen. I'm here," I said calmly.

After about ten minutes, Bucky moved from my grip and the two of us sat up against the headboard. "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked a few minutes later.

He froze and shook his head, but after a moment, he nodded.

"I was strapped to a table and a short man-," his voice broke, "-my first handler, came up to me and started hurting me and injecting me with stuff and I just kept screaming out your name, wanting you to save me." That was the most he'd talked since I'd found him, but I didn't want to hear any of it. It was Zola he was talking about, I was sure of it.

He started talking again. "There were doctors, and they started to remove what left of my arm, replacing it with a metal one, and they wouldn't stop hurting me. I kept calling out your name, but you never came." Bucky's eyes were watering up and overflowing. "You never saved me."

"I did save you," I said, tears coming to my eyes. "I did. The first time you got captured, I saved you. The second time, I thought you were dead." My voice was breaking as we spoke. The fact that he remembered something made me happy, but at he same time, he remembered the time I didn't save him and it utterly broke me. I pulled him into a hug.

I held Bucky until his tears stopped, and surprisingly, he let me.

When I let go, he gave me a pitiful look and spoke, his words so soft and hesitant I could barely hear them.

"I don't want them to get me. I don't want to go back." 

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