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Steve’s mother used to say that dreams were a passage into the subconscious. Bucky’s mother would deny that feverishly, instead rambling on about the admittedly little science behind dreams and their deep connection to the subconscious. Right now, Bucky didn’t really care where dreams came from; he just wanted his gone.
Every night, without fail, he would dream of a metal arm dripping rivers of blood. Flashes of screams intermixing into one another until the sounds hammered at Bucky’s skull long after he had woken up. Barked orders that made his throat dry up no matter how much water he chugged, and fearful scowls that made him want to shrink back defensively while bleating that he wasn’t dangerous. He had never wanted to be feared, and yet every day, mothers fearfully kept their children away from him; their unblinking stares would follow him into his sleep as beacons of light that watched him judgmentally.
The dreams were never truly constant, but he could tell when another regret was added to an already large forest worth of them. Letting Steve go, acting as that with Zemo, arguing with Sam, stacks of regrets upon regrets that trapped him in like an endless nightmare. The void had almost been a relief because the regrets had been focused in with only one scream at a time. Almost because of the nonstop cacophony of them in his head had still followed him in there, pounding away at him as he tried to track down Sentry- Bob.
Sure, when he had been with Sam, the dreams had changed. As ridiculous as it sounded, he swore every morning that through the blood and death, there had been a falcon watching him with understanding eyes that made the Winter Soldier pause for a half second before carrying out his mission. The falcon did not attempt to stop it, only sitting in the corner with an expression that lacked fear. The Soldier would not acknowledge it beyond the initial pause, but Bucky knew what it was, and his muscles would relax slightly at the reminder.
However, after the whole Avengers mess, the falcon had started to turn away from him to stare at a blood-soaked shield at the ground. The shield itself was nothing of note, but the constant dripping of blood acted as a nonstop reminder of the fact that Bucky had let Steve’s title be tainted with red. Walker was Bucky’s fault, and his silent presence in every one of his dreams made Bucky want to scream like he was back in the ice. In fact, the constant presence of all three Captain Americas was driving Bucky crazy, and he could feel Sam and Steve’s disappointment weighing down on his shoulders every time the team were called some form of Avengers. The disappointment trailed him into his dreams like a fox, paws light as it circled around memories and sniffed the air to look for something - what exactly, he didn’t know.
Sometimes, Bucky felt like the fox was even following him into the real world with sharp, amber eyes that cut through him like a parasite that was determined to dig its way into his brain. It was only thanks to his past that he didn’t look around him frantically to find it halfway through missions. He did, however, look for it at night when he jolted awake after a dream spent running through trees with snow crunching under his feet. When his eyes would land on it, his breath would catch in his throat, and he would have to fight the urge to recoil for the first time in decades. Even the Soldier clenched his fists uncomfortably at the feelings, heartbeat picking up slightly.
His dreams had consisted of him lost in a forest of memories since he could dream, but the snow felt heavier and heavier with every awful day, and the wind battered him harder and harder with every snarled insult thrown at him. Every day, the battle felt worse and worse, and he was starting to feel like he was drowning in repetitive nightmares, awake or asleep.
At first, the Thunderbolts only made it worse.
They were loud and obnoxious, like a group of feral cats that someone had decided to force into a very tight space together. Alexei never seemed to shut up, and whatever happy energy wafted off him soured into teenage-like sarcasm in Yelena’s presence. Spending a lot of time alone, Ava seemed to struggle a lot with simply being in other people’s presence, curling into herself and adopting an extremely defensive nature whenever she was approached. Somehow, Bob was the most normal one, no matter how much he cowered under the force of decisions. Walker wasn’t much help, barking and biting at anyone who dared to look at him.
They were insufferable, and their pack bonding only made it worse because now they fed off of each other’s energy. When Bob was nervous, the carpet was worn in from the force of five people circling around the living room. When Ava was feeling nauseous, no one left the house. When Walker was growling and itching to punch, every punching bag in the Tower was destroyed in the hands of four heavily super-powered assassins. They were messy, and yet, they were so intensely protective over each other that Bucky sometimes felt an aching pound of loneliness in his bones when he saw them.
It was a loneliness that he hadn’t felt since he saw Hawkeye and the witch shield each other during the fight in the airport. He hadn’t been able to properly analyse them, but he had been able to witness Hawkeye curl protectively around the witch and simply hold her, even as explosions rang out around them. Like a bad itch, the loneliness had settled in his bones to occasionally rear its ugly head and gnaw on them like a dog digging into meat. The Thunderbolts with their protectiveness and their frantic worrying made him want to curl up in the shadows to simply sulk for as long as possible. The loneliness followed him into his mental woods, pulling at his skin in an attempt to draw blood that pooled together with the red of the innocent.
However, it had started shifting gradually. The Thunderbolts were starting to lose the rainy clouds that followed them everywhere, damp fury slowly transitioning into a heat that enveloped them like a protective blanket. Bob would come up to him with a meal that he had found on a website about pre-war meals, and Ava had started to join him on the sofa to start a movie that neither of them had had the chance to watch. Yelena and Alexei would drag him out to a nearby field to tussle like dogs in the mud. Even Walker would come up to sit right next to Bucky; over the past few months, he had watched Walker getting more touchy, pushing himself up against the others like a fluffy cat obsessively trying to show affection while not knowing how to not pull out his claws.
He had once nearly knocked Ava out of the helicopter simply from the force of his headbutting; after that, he was limited to only pushing himself up against super soldiers, who could withstand the weight that is an affectionate John Walker.
It happened exactly after three months of the Thunderbolts existing. Bucky had been living in the tower for the entirety of the three months, having been ‘lovingly’ forced into it by Valentina. Three months of the same nightmares and judgmental eyes watching him, no matter what he did to try and stop it. Three months of falling asleep to wake up in the same forest, day after day, over and over and over again. That’s why he noticed it so quickly; the Thunderbolts were in his dreams. Not in the accusatory, guilt-inducing way that Steve was, not in the weeping way that the dead were, not even in the silent, watching way that Zemo and Nat were.
No, the Thunderbolts were happy.
Sure, they weren’t physically there like the others were, but that didn’t matter. He could still hear Alexei’s heavily accented laughter and Yelena’s sarcastic huffs of muffled amusement, the others’ presence just as strong. Gradually, over the next few months, the others became just as apparent in his dreams. It was starting to almost feel comforting to have Walker’s ghostly weight pressing up against his back while he was watching his body carry out his regrets, Ava’s slightly too clean smell blocking out the stink of blood. Loneliness seeping from his bones, Bucky was slowly getting used to the constant presence of the others, as weird as it felt.
In fact, as time went on, his dreams began to warp to adjust to the presence of the others. Yelena’s footprints ran in the snow in front of Bucky, leading him away from the screams. The sounds of the movies that Ava and Bob watched at one in the morning cut their way through the whirring of the metal arm, the Soldier’s attention torn between the past and the present. In a way, it seemed almost curious like a tentative dog wanting to learn more about the real world. In another way, it seemed to be unimpressed with the presence of Walker, frowning at the feeling of being pushed up against. It seemed almost… skittish.
Not that it mattered. Bucky was far more focused on the fact that Walker was actually comforting him indirectly. The concept would’ve seemed alien to him a year ago, but right now, the comfort of someone else felt like a gift - specifically Walker. For some reason, Bucky’s every dreaming thought was on Walker, of all people. It was because of this that non-dream Bucky had started to keep a constant eye on the other, trailing him in missions and refusing to let him out of his sight during PR nonsense. He wouldn’t admit it, but he eventually grew used to how Walker moved; he moved like a fearful animal that tried to hold itself back, terrified of losing control of his claws again. Maybe it was the Steve in him, but Bucky had an overwhelming need to grab Walker’s paws and show him that clawing someone once didn’t mean that he had to be declawed. It took one very specific situation for him to realise what exactly was going on.
They had just won a battle against… someone. The details were misty in Bucky’s brain, a thick fog blocking out whatever had happened in the past hour. Torn and blood-covered, they must’ve made a real ugly sight standing behind Valentina with scowls while slowly slumping over. Yelena looked like she was about to meet the ground at any minute with fingers that kept twitching and a clenched jaw, and Ava had a hand covering a bloody wound on her hip that Bucky really hoped wasn’t fatal because he was far too tired to deal with that. As always, Alexei was sporting a large grin with his large arm around a completely clean, dark eyed Bob. After a few seconds of analysing his teammates, Bucky decided that they would all be fine, and he joined them in doing his best at channeling all of his anger onto Valentina, even though her words fell flat on his ears as they turned into a vague onslaught of indifferentiable sounds.
As if sensing their glares, she waved a hand at them in a casual motion that acted as a reminder of all the eyes on them. Yelena let out a scornful huff at the reminder before forcing her shoulders to relax, the others quickly copying her as Valentina kept talking. The only one who didn’t was Walker, who seemed far more interested in poking at his own leg; for a man whose source of income was dependent on seeming like a decent person, he was awful at giving the crowd his attention. In an attempt to not let his teammate look like a buffoon, Bucky reached out to grab Walker’s sticky crimson hand, and force his attention onto him while carefully ignoring the thought process that had led him to do that.
The thing is that during the entirety of their fight, Bucky had been aware of every single one of Walker’s moves from shielding a child to trying to tackle one of their enemies into a wall. He knew every single breath that the other took, and he had spent the battle with a careful eye on the shrapnel lodged in Walker’s left arm from a stray grenade, making sure to take down anyone trying to approach him from the left. Said injury looked like a tattoo on the other’s arm, but Bucky couldn’t decide if the flatness of the wound was because he was tired or because of the thick mist that surrounded him. All of this meant that he was pretty confident that Walker was okay.
At least, he was up until the moment that his entire weight was dropped on Bucky.
Immediately scrambling, he wrapped his metal arm around the other’s waist as his eyes desperately scanned the other to find the cause of his sudden collapse. Valentina wasn’t much help as she continued talking to their audience, apparently oblivious to the way that two of her beloved Thunderbolts were very quickly approaching the floor. As much as he was trying to regain his footing, John wasn’t much help either, eyes glazed over in the same way that Steve’s used to when the serum was trying desperately to heal a muscle around a bullet. Shit. There was no way that Bucky could remove whatever was interfering with Walker leaning on his metal hand, and his flesh hand was shaking too much to be of any use.
The best situation would be to slowly drop themselves on the ground, but that wasn’t possible with the crowd in front of them. Breath starting to pick up dangerously, Bucky released John’s hand to instead lightly push the other’s face into his neck all the while trying to ignore the blood gradually seeping into his metal arm. They were starting to receive suspicious looks from the team, and if Bucky knew anything, it was that they weren’t subtle. For two people who clung to the shadows constantly, Yelena and Ava were transparent with their feelings about John and Bob. It would take exactly one pained sound out of John for them to both come running and draw unnecessary attention to him.
Fortunately, John was quiet for the first time in his life. If it hadn’t been for the feeling of him pushing his face into his neck, Bucky would be concerned that the other had actually died. The thought made something rear its head to begin gnawing at his stomach anxiously, metal fingers clenching into John’s uniform. Said arm was almost covered in blood that Bucky almost wished was his, and it let out a deep, robotic whirred that drowned out John’s heavy panting. Like a gunshot, the suddenly strong scent of blood finally pulled Bucky down to the ground, all thoughts of the crowd gone.
The pair were now sitting in a pool of blood that clung to Bucky’s skin frantically, begging for him to do something, but he couldn’t. Head snapping up, he tried to get Yelena’s attention subtly with a hiss, and failed spectacularly. Quickly giving up on being subtle, he began to say her name at a normal volume that flew to a yell until he realised that no sound was coming out of his mouth. No matter how much he screamed, he made no sound, and he could feel the panic setting in like words rearranging his brain to fit his handler’s wishes.
The more he panicked, the darker their surroundings were until no matter where Bucky looked all he saw were trees that loomed over him with disapproving stares and disappointed huffs. A shaky groan forced his attention back to John, whose skin was starting to look as pale as the snow that kept Bucky alive long enough to be found. The other man was frighteningly still, but the only sound near them was the pounding heartbeat thudding in the Soldier’s ears as it looked down at the nearly-dead Captain. The Soldier tilted its head before it frowned. It seemed to think something over before its head snapped up to meet Bucky’s eyes.
The two held eye contact, both of them searching the other’s face for something. The Soldier seemed to find it first, body adjusting to put John in Bucky’s reach. Still maintaining eye contact, Bucky carefully shuffled his way close enough to place a hand on the now unconscious man. The Soldier’s eyes tracked the movement, its face turning almost puzzled as it growled something out in Russian. Bucky didn’t understand. Appearing to grow agitated, the Soldier repeated its words as its metal hand snapped upwards to grab ahold of Bucky’s wrist. Letting out a shaky breath, Bucky nodded numbly. He barely registered the loss of contact as the Soldier vanished, only noting its absence when it was instead Steve who was standing before him.
Large eyes flew upwards to meet Steve’s, only to be met with a definite nothing where his face was meant to be. The faceless body simply stood in front of Bucky with his hands holding the shield on his feet and his skin shining in the dark red light that the trees seemed to have started emitting. Voiceless, all that he could do was watch as the Captain let out a small sound of despair at the sight of John cradled in the other’s arms. The Captain seemed to be burdened with something that Bucky would never understand, but that would show in his eyes every time he looked at Bucky. The only time he didn’t seem to have that burden was when he was with the others. Bucky used to pretend that he didn’t realise it, but that burden hadn’t been there when he was fighting the Soldier.
As if echoing his thoughts, the Captain shook his head mutely before pulling up his shield to cover his face. All that Bucky could see was that damned shield, the face no matter when it was Captain America. As if laughing at a bad joke, the shield shook slightly. Bile began to climb up Bucky’s throat as he watched the Captain jeer at the two, arms tightening around John silently. He didn’t know how long it lasted, but at one point, the Captain disappeared, leaving them alone in the snow. With one last glance around them, Bucky let his gaze fall to John, expecting to be met with a gruesome imitation of what his mind expected him to look like when dead.
Instead, Howard’s brown eyes stared up at him.
Eyes flying open, Bucky was met with the sight of the back of a truck. The Thunderbolts were all asleep in separate corners, apart from Alexei who they apparently trusted to let drive and John who was curled up on Bucky’s side. His flesh hand slowly moved to sit on the side of his neck, relief coursing through his veins at the pulse steadily beating there. He was okay. John was okay, and Bucky finally knew why he was so worried about him.
Pulling John as close as possible, he gently shook the other awake. Upon seeing blue eyes snap open to focus on him with a speed that only a soldier could achieve, he looked at him with a solemn expression, and stated calmly, “I’m in love with you.”
Apparently, no one in their group were very heavy sleepers because instantly four people were yelling at him in multiple jumbled languages with frantic motioning leading to Yelena backhanding Bob and Ava having to duck to avoid Bob landing on her. Although Alexei’s thunderous cheer from the front definitely didn’t help. Yep. Bucky already regretted not telling John in private.
(He didn’t.)