Blanket Statements
by
ghostlywhitedirewolf

AN: I don't know what this is, I don't know how this happened but it just did.

I'm sorry that this majorly sucks.

"Stars and stripes!" Tony called as he walked into the kitchen of Steve and Bucky's floor of the tower.

"Hi Tony," Steve replied, looking up from where he was chopping tomatoes into slices. "What can I do for you?"

"You can answer me a question."

"That sounds ominous, but go ahead." Steve paused for a second, knife coming to rest on the chopping board as he wiped his hands on a tea towel.

"Why is there an ex-HYDRA assassin sat on your sofa, in stripy jammies with a blanket?" Tony asked, gesturing towards the other room.

"He's having an off day, memories give him a migraine." Steve shrugged. "I told him to get settled and I'd make lunch."

"He looks like a kicked puppy. Just looking at him makes my head hurt." Tony lowered his voice slightly so as not to alert Bucky of their conversation.

Steve sighed, "mine too. But he always does this on bad days. He does it on days when we don't have missions or meetings or press conferences. We don't have much down time, in case you hadn't noticed."

"So he spends what little down time he has with a blankie?" Tony raised an eyebrow.

"He doesn't like to feel cold, at all. It reminds him of the cryofreeze. We used to do the blanket thing when we were kids too. We used to drag all the couch cushions onto the floor of our apartment and cover ourselves in blankets, hell, I don't know why he does it, but it keeps him grounded and that's all that matters." Steve leaned to the left, the angle allowing him to peer around the doorframe at Bucky.

His friend's shoulders were tense, but he was engrossed in the show that was playing on the TV.

Who knew assassins liked Pokémon? Steve thought with a small smile.

"You two are disgusting. Wipe that goofy look off your face, Rogers."

Tony smiled despite the sarcasm in his words.

"Was there a reason you came down here–" Steve asked "–or was it just to annoy me?"

"I wanted to change something on Bucky's arm, he said that the calibration was off, but I can come back, it's not a big deal." Tony shrugged, stepping back and turning towards the door. "Let me know when he's feeling better."

"Thanks. I will." Steve replied, watching the engineer leave before placing the tomatoes on the toast in front of him, placing cheese over the tomatoes and putting them under the grill.

Steve had to admit; Bucky did look like a little lost puppy wrapped up in the huge beige blanket that he had found in a cupboard somewhere in the tower.

"Here you go." Steve held out the grilled cheese and tomato toasties, sitting down beside Bucky.

"They smell amazing." Bucky turned towards him, long hair mussed from sleep and eyes heavy lidded from the extra strength migraine medication that Bruce had somehow created for him.

"That's because I am an amazing cook. Don't even try to deny it. Scoot up and we can share."

Steve waited for Bucky to uncurl himself, ready to back off if the other man seemed hesitant. Sometimes Bucky valued the closeness on days like this, but sometimes he wanted his own space and Steve wasn't willing to infringe on that, no matter how much he wanted to wrap himself around his friend.

One side of Bucky's mouth quirked slightly and he loosened his grip on the blanket, stretching an arm outwards to allow Steve to move into the space before he wrapped the blanket around Steve's shoulders, metal hand stroking the back of the Captain's neck gently as Bucky pulled his own arm back.

"How are you feeling?" Steve asked, gently, leaning into Bucky's side and allowing him to steal one of the pieces of grilled cheese from the plate.

"Better. Bruce's drugs make me feel muzzy, but it doesn't hurt as much." Bucky chewed slowly.

"I'm sure if you speak to him he'll be able to do something about the side effects."

Bucky pulled a face, expression unreadable as he shrugged slightly, going quiet for a time. Steve settled down, content to watch the cartoon and allow Bucky the courtesy of undisturbed thoughts.

"Hey, Steve?" Bucky murmured, rubbing his cheek gently against the other man's shirt.

They were both lay across the sofa, Bucky fitting between Steve's legs with his upper torso and head resting on Steve's chest.

"Yeah Buck?" Steve asked, voice thick with sleep as his brain tried to clear the sleepy fog from his dozing.

"Do you miss the old stuff? The way things were before the war?" Bucky sounded almost hesitant as he spoke.

"Mmm, sometimes." Steve admitted, carding his fingers gently through Bucky's tangled hair, smiling slightly when the other man pushed his head back against Steve's hand in enjoyment.

Sometimes he wished to be back in their old apartment, before the war, before any of this had happened; back when it had been just he and Bucky against the world. No one else; no other responsibilities. Back when things were tough, but infinitely simpler. Back when both of them had been more whole.

"I remember most of it, I think. I wasn't a mess back then." Bucky's voice was rough and haunted as he shifted, angling his head to look up at Steve.

Steve's hands stilled for a fraction of a second before resuming their ministrations. "You're not a mess now, Bucky."

"I'm better than I was, but I still feel like I'm picking up pieces and gluing them back together. Like, something else falls back into place and another piece falls out again." Bucky confessed sadly.

"And that's called a recovery. There's always going to be steps backwards as well as forwards, we just have to learn how to roll with the bad days." Steve leaned down to kiss Bucky's forehead tenderly.

Bucky pondered this, plucking at the edge of the blanket that was still wrapped around him, forehead creasing into worry lines that were the same as when they were younger. The worry lines had always been a tell tale sign that they were short of rent or something that month but that Bucky was trying to hide it.

Steve reached down and stroked Bucky's cheek, softly tilting his head up so that Steve could brush their lips together.

"We'll figure it out together, Buck. Today's just a bad day. Try to sleep and things will look better in the morning, okay?"

Bucky nodded, returning the kiss for a moment before pulling the blanket more tightly around himself, as though the piece of cloth could hold him together.

Steve watched as Bucky slowly drifted, his sleep aided by the drugs in his system and he wondered what it must feel like for Bucky, to have all the memories of their past, but no real attachment to them, as though they were a film inside his head, planted there but without the full emotional attachment.

Steve knew that Bucky did feel emotions about his past, some of them accurate, but others still seemed a little detached, as though Bucky could remember them, but was an outsider within his own head. Bucky wasn't Bucky any more, in face and certain characteristics he was, but in other ways he was a new person. A person forged from the horrors that had happened to him, a person who had fought his way out of the hell he had been placed in. A scarred version of his former self, but no less perfect than Steve remembered.

And after everything, he still loved Steve, remembered him, cared for him like he always had.

Steve knew that he was lucky, to have lost Bucky and then to have gotten him back.

He knew that Bucky saw it differently, sometimes thought that Steve wanted him to be the Bucky that he had been before the war, but Steve didn't.

He wanted Bucky, in any shape or form.

Just Bucky.

Nothing more, he didn't want to try to fit him back into the lives they'd had previously, to push him back into a mould that Bucky no longer fitted into.

Steve knew that he couldn'tlose Bucky again.

Wouldn't lose him again.

Bucky shifted against his chest, pressing his cheek more firmly against Steve as his right hand rubbed against Steve's stomach, fingers twitching in his sleep.

For once he was peaceful, sleep not plagued by nightmares and flashbacks and Steve smiled gently at the soft expression on Bucky's face, the tension gone and replaced with the worriless face that Steve remembered from their childhood.

Bucky wasn't whole just yet, but he was getting there and Steve knew that he would be there as long as it took, even if it did take a beige blanket for them to get there.

He would take as many blanket days as Bucky needed if it made him feel better.

"You're thinking too loud." Came Bucky's sleep heavy voice and Steve snorted slightly, expression cracking into a smile.

"Well, one of us has to do the thinking."

"Shut up and sleep."

"Yes sir." Steve mock saluted, despite Bucky not being able to see him.

"You're a punk." Bucky replied, burrowing further into the blanket.

"And you're a jerk. Now go back to sleep."

Steve shifted into a more comfortable position and Bucky moved to tuck his head into Steve's neck, sighing contentedly and mouth moving against Steve's skin as he spoke.

"We need more days like this. Tell Fury I don't want more missions, I just want to stay here."

"I'll make sure to send him your updated requests list. I'm sure he'll be most accommodating of your requests. Or should I have Tony install a suggestion box?" Steve muttered, a smirk appearing on his face as he ran a hand up and down Bucky's side.

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

Bucky made a humming noise of agreement and kissed Steve's neck gently before stilling, breathing evening out after a minute or two as he drifted back towards sleep.

"Night Buck." Steve muttered, tucking a stray piece of hair behind Bucky's ear before closing his own eyes.

There was no harm in making the most of their day off.

El fin.

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