Peter & Bucky Are Pals

Chapter 18

The next time Bucky opened his eyes, Steve was still asleep and Peter had been brought two different meals by Tony, and then Hill and Natasha. They’d brought food for Steve, too, but nobody seemed to want to wake him. Bucky’s eyelids fluttered, and with what seemed like great effort, he tilted his head slightly to look over at Steve. Before Peter could move, Bucky opened his mouth, but all that came out was a cracked sound. Peter slammed the nurse call button and shook Steve awake as fast as he could. Steve jerked upright and a nurse rushed in moments later.

“He’s awake,” Peter said urgently. “I think he tried to say something…”

“I’ll go get some crushed ice,” the nurse replied. “His throat is probably very dry, seeing as he’s been getting his fluids intravenously.”

“Hey, Buck,” Steve was saying. “Everything’s okay. You got hurt real bad, but they think you’ll be just fine. God, I’m so glad…”

Bucky tried to lift his head and groaned, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. Peter’s lip trembled. Bucky was in pain, and he was the cause of it. He must’ve made a sound, because Bucky’s eyes were searching for him and his flesh fingers twitched where they were resting on the blankets. Peter scooted away; he couldn’t stand it if Bucky worried about him on top of everything else.

The nurse returned with a cup of crushed ice, handing it and a spoon to Steve before adjusting the bed to tilt Bucky up slightly. Steve scooped up a small chunk of ice and tipped it into Bucky’s mouth; Peter watched from out of Bucky’s sight. After half the small cup was gone, Bucky made another attempt at speaking. His voice was unintelligible at first, but he coughed and kept trying.

“E-er. O-ay. Z Pe-ter okay.”

“Peter?” Steve said.

“Yes,” Bucky rasped.

“Peter’s here, he’s just fine. You saved him, Buck.”

That must’ve been what Bucky was looking for, because his eyes drifted shut and his breaths leveled out into unconsciousness. Steve’s hand clutching the cup trembled, and he set it down before clasping his fingers together tightly. Peter sniffled, wiping at his eyes. Steve turned to look at him, and he fled. He couldn’t bear Steve’s gentle eyes; he didn’t deserve them. He heard Steve call after him, but nobody followed as he darted to the elevator and slid down to the floor as the doors glided shut.

“May I take you to Mr. Stark or Mrs. Potts?” JARVIS asked. Peter shook his head.

“Can I go to the roof, please?” His voice wobbled as he spoke.

“May I acquire your purpose in doing so?”

“I j-just want to…” Peter took a shaky breath, and when he spoke next, it was with complete apathy. “Can I go to the gym?”

“You may, although I am still required to notify Mr. Stark of your acute emotional distress.”

“Alright,” Peter muttered. He was still sitting down when the elevator doors opened; he hauled himself up and trudged out into the gym, only noticing Natasha and Clint when it was too late.

“Petey-Pie, what’s wrong?” Clint asked, his voice unusually soft. Peter backed away as Clint approached and Clint stopped, holding up his hands. “Can you talk to me, buddy?”