Peter & Bucky Are Pals

Chapter 33

The next day, Peter slipped down to Steve and Bucky’s apartment before he left for school. He found Steve asleep on the couch and tiptoed past so as not to wake him, freezing when one of the floorboards creaked under him. He continued after a moment, peering around for Bucky. He heard a squeaking noise in the kitchen and strode over to see Bucky swiveling his wheelchair away, turning his back to Peter.

“Bucky?” Peter said quietly, taking a step forward.

Bucky’s shoulders tightened.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, worried.

Bucky balled up his hands and then visibly forced himself to relax them.

“Fine,” he gritted out.

Peter didn’t really know what to do with that. “Are you… Um… Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Bucky snapped.

Peter stepped back, slightly hurt. Bucky had never been sharp with him before. He watched as tension radiated through Bucky’s body, then suddenly drained as Bucky let out a long, shaky breath. He lifted his hands to his face; Peter could see the flesh one shaking from where he stood.

Bucky whispered something that sounded like “Shit,” and slowly turned his wheelchair to face Peter. His face was pale and his eyes were wide and damp; guilt was etched into the lines on his forehead.

“I’m sorry. Peter, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Peter said slowly, his concern growing.

Bucky shook his head. “It’s not.”

“You didn’t mean to. Don’t worry about it,” Peter told him in earnest.

Bucky lowered his head, letting his hair fall into his face. “It’s not okay.”

“I don’t…” Peter trailed off helplessly. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

Bucky let out a harsh sound that might’ve supposed to have been a laugh. “I can’t. Reach the cereal.”

“Oh… Do you want me to…?” Peter made his way forward, scooting past Bucky and reaching up into the cabinet to hand him the cereal.

“Thanks,” Bucky said grudgingly, tight-faced. He blew out a breath, then poured some cereal into the bowl that was sitting in his lap. He set the box on the counter. “Don’t tell Steve.”

“Okay,” Peter said, slightly hesitant.

“He’ll be mad at himself. For forgetting to leave it where I can reach.”

Peter nodded slowly, watching as Bucky wheeled over to the fridge and pulled out the milk, pouring some into the cereal. He grabbed a spoon from a drawer by the sink and shoveled a bite into his mouth, chewing forcefully. He met Peter’s big, sorrowful eyes.

“Please don’t,” he said, quiet. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Peter tried to school his face to impassive, but he didn’t have the same talent for it that Bucky did. Instead, he looked away. “I’m sorry.”