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.

~OR~

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*

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7. Chapter Six

Steve's POV

 

After I had carried Bucky upstairs and laid him in his bed, I went and grabbed the blueprints. Tony started looking over them the moment they were in his hand and started writing down notes.

Since I knew he worked better when he was alone, I walked out of the lab and pulled out my phone, calling Sam.

"What's wrong?" he demanded the moment he answered.

"What gave you the idea that something was wrong?" I joked, even though it was obvious.

"I left less than two hours ago. Now, do you need me to come back? Because if so, I will turn around and be back in a little over an hour."

I shook my head as I responded. "No, the people at your meetings need you more, and Tony's here. I just wanted to let you know that something happened."

"What? Are you and Bucky okay? What about Tony?" he asked in a worried tone.

"I'm fine, but Bucky had a little incident. Tony accidentally triggered something in his arm that wiped him," I explained and Sam let out a sigh and I knew that he was probably running a hand through his buzzed hair.

"Well does he remember you?"

"I don't know," I told him. "He's still unconscious."

Sam let out another sigh. "Well when he wakes up, call me and let me know if he tries to kill you."

"I will, bye."

"Bye."

I went back into Bucky's room and sat on the floor by his bed, watching over him to make sure nothing else went wrong.

As normal, something went wrong.

It was a little over three hours before Bucky sat straight up in his bed.

I shot to my feet, but when he saw me, he did the same.

Without warning, his metal hand was around my neck and he let out a yell as he slammed me to the floor.

His hand tightened around my throat, cutting off my airways. I gripped his arm with my hand and pleaded with him with my eyes. It took a few seconds before I was able to do anything, but I croaking out a strangled, "Buck."

His eyes flashed with recognition a moment later and his hand quickly released my neck.

"Steve," he gasped, wide eyed.

I gasped for air as Bucky hurried back to his feet. He dashed to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

I struggled to get to my feet for a few moments, but as soon as I did, I went to the bathroom door and knocked. There wasn't an answer, but I could swear I heard soft crying.

"Bucky?" I said softly through the door. "Buck, it's okay. I'm fine. Please open the door."

When I didn't hear anything but more soft crying, I sat down, resting my back against the wall by the door and running my hands down my face.

After a few minutes, I heard the sound of Bucky shuffling to his feet and then the doorknob turning.

"I'm ready for my punishment," Bucky whispered and my head snapped up to look at him.

When my eyes met his I saw him gulp. He had tear stains streaking his cheeks and his eyes were red and puffy. It'd been decades since I'd seen him cry last and this made me heartbroken, and the words hurt even more.

"I'm not going to punish you, Buck." He looked confused.

"But-." I cut him off.

"You didn't do anything wrong. It was reflexes. You can't help what your reflexes are." I could tell that he didn't understand what I was saying, but I had to try.

"But I hurt you. All my previous handlers punished me if I hurt them."

"That's the thing, Buck. I'm not your handler, I'm your friend," I explained, but he gave me another confused look. He seemed like he genuinely did not understand what I was saying. "Bucky, I'm here to take care of you, but not as your handler. You might not remember, but we used to be best friends. We would do everything together. You used to take care of me, now it's my turn to return the favor."

I could tell by the look in Bucky's eyes that he was thinking. After a moment, he smiled. It was a small smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"You used to always be sick," he said quietly and I smiled back at him. I stood up, causing him to flinch, but the grin didn't leave my face.

"You remember that, even though you were just wiped?" I asked and he nodded. "Can you remember anything else?" He hesitated before he nodded again and spoke a few sentences.

"I remember Hydra brainwashing me and wiping my memory." He continued speaking in that same, soft tone. "It wasn't permanent, that's why they had to do it over and over again and why I'm starting to remember."

That really peaked my interests.

"Remember things like what?" I asked, leaning closer to Bucky.

He looked up from his hands. "Your mom's name was Sarah and you used to wear newspapers in your shoes."

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