Welcome back to the story! I tried to tag everyone who asked, remember to drop a like and a reblog and maybe a comment on the fic if you’re tagged! If I’m going to take the time to tag you, be a decent enough person to take the time to show some love on the fic!
*there were a few people who asked to be tagged and the link won’t work? check your settings on your blog to make sure anyone can tag you!
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“Hey Stevie.” Bucky looked up from their bed and tsked sympathetically when Steve came through the door. “Rough day?”
“Does it look like a rough day?” Steve griped, dropping his stained shield onto the ground and stepping out of his nearly shredded boots with a grimace. “Be glad you had to sit this one out.”
He regretted the flippant comment instantly, when Bucky’s pale eyes flickered in hurt and resignation, the plates on his left arm shifting and clicking as he clenched his fist.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Steve said with a sigh. “I wasn’t trying to make fun, babe. When we agreed to keep you out of things that might potentially trigger the Soldier–”
“It’s fine.” Bucky waved him off, shaking his head jerkily. “S’fine, Stevie. Better to leave me at home than to risk setting me off in public, yeah? I know. It’s fine.”
It wasn’t fine, and Steve felt awful for trying to make light of it. All this time Bucky had been part of the team and he still sat on the sidelines more often than not, posted up in the bedroom waiting for the rest of them to come home and tell him what had happened. It was a constant reminder that even though Bucky was Bucky again, there was still a part of him hidden away, one that may or may not be activated at any time, one that might or might not be suddenly violent if triggered, one that could be brought to the surface by something as simple as flashing lights.
It wasn’t fine.
“I missed you today.” Steve kept his voice soft, tried to change the subject. “Missed having you in my ear. Clint is my point man when you aren’t there and the guy keeps up a running commentary on literally anything he sees just to fill the silence. At one point he asked Natasha if she wanted some bag an old lady was carrying and she said no, she wanted the actual Prada bag and he started wailing about how he gets paid archer money not super spy money so he couldn’t afford it.”
Bucky’s lips twitched towards a smile and encouraged, Steve added– “I tried turning the mic’s down but I must have turned them down on his end too because he just turned his hearing aids up and started shouting his stories so I gave up.”
The Stories We Write (Chap Two)
Published
themusechronicles 