(A/N) Grr, okay, yeah, I'm supposed to be on hiatus, but now this bloody Winter Soldier movie's come out and I am just overcome by my Bucky/Steve feels, so I'll give myself a little relief. This is a story I wrote a year or so ago, just never posted it on here. Warnings: Gang rape, slash.

I Will Hide You

Bucky cursed himself out as he hurried down the street. He was already half an hour late in meeting up with Steve and he was really starting to worry as the sky overhead slowly faded to black.

Every day, when Steve was done with classes and Bucky got off work, they would meet up at the diner near the college and head home together. Sometimes they stopped in for dinner, but Bucky didn't think that'd be happening tonight. The later it got, the more worried he became.

Steve always told him he was being stupid…worrying about him walking home alone, but one could never be too careful with Steve Rogers. He attracted trouble like a magnet, after all.

Bucky didn't start to breathe easier until he was in sight of the diner. Steve was leaning against a lamppost, doodling in his sketchbook while he waited…and he seemed to know he was coming, because he looked up at just that moment and smiled at him. Bucky returned it with a relieved smile of his own. See? There he was…safe and sound. Maybe Steve was right and he really was just being stupid…

Fate does like to have a fucking good laugh, though…as it was at that exact moment Steve was smiling at him that he saw a gang of about six melt out of a nearby alley. On instinct, he started to run.

"Hey, kid. Got any cash?" one of them asked as the gang started to circle him.

"Not any I'm gonna give to you punks," Steve said warningly, standing up and tucking his sketchbook into his jacket.

"Really, now? Just what're you gonna do about it, shrimp?" another mocked him.

"Well, might just have to teach you boys a lesson," Steve said, giving his knuckles a good crack.

God damn it, Steve! Are you outta you're fuckin' mind?! Don't you see how many there are?

But of course, if he knew Steve at all, he did see; he just didn't care. He never did.

"What? A lesson in gettin' the shit kicked out of us?" another asked before delivering a harsh blow to his face.

Steve went down quickly, but as he was climbing to his feet, Bucky burst into the middle of the action, laying into the one who'd hit Steve.

"Hey, you sons of bitches! Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" he challenged.

"Like you, pretty boy?"

"That's the notion, yeah," Bucky growled, placing himself between Steve and the others. "You want him, you're gonna have to go through me."

The fight was vicious, but ultimately brief. Bucky could usually handle things like this when there were only two or three guys…but this time there were six. He bloodied up one or two of them pretty good, but they eventually managed to work Steve and him back into the alley they'd crawled out of…into a corner.

"You should've just let me take 'em," Steve scolded him.

"Haha, laugh it up, Rogers," Bucky hissed over his shoulder while still keeping a fierce glare fixed on their assailants. They were in some seriously deep shit.

"Well, you put up a good fight. I'll give ya that," the one who appeared to be their leader told him. "What for? Is it the kid? Why? He don't look like much."

"Looks can be deceivin'," he said, keeping Steve behind him with a powerful will. He didn't like where this was going.

"He's got a real mouth on him," one of the others noted. "Hey…mouth like that…he probably gives some real good head."

Bucky felt Steve freeze behind him, and for a moment, he thought he felt his own heart stop.

The gang leader laughed as he surveyed the two of them. "Is that it? Is he your bitch?"

"Stop it," Bucky hissed, the look on his face nearing something feral.

"Heh, guess he looks enough like a dame for that," the leader appraised, reaching a hand forward to try and get a feel of Steve's blond hair.

"I said stop it!" Bucky snarled, grabbing the man's wrist and slamming it against the brick wall, feeling a very satisfying crunch of bone.

The man howled in pain as he yanked his hand back. Then he shouted at two of his men, "Take him! Hold him!"

Almost before Bucky knew it, he was being pulled away from Steve…slammed up against the wall and held there.

"No!" he shouted, struggling to get free. "No!"

"If you wanna get outta here in one piece, you'll take my advice…and let us have a go with this little woman a' yours."

The next sound he heard was the sound of Steve shouting as the other three seized him, forced him into the corner…tore off his jacket, tore his shirt open, started to pull his trousers down…baring his body to their boss. The man leered hideously as he moved forward again, laying a hand on Steve's chest and starting to rub in circles.

"No!" Bucky shouted. "God damn it! Don't do this!"

"Bucky!" Steve cried out in panic. Steve never cried out, never called for help like that…and it was this, along with the fear in his wide blue eyes, that caused something inside of Bucky to just snap.

He would never know where he found the strength, but he somehow managed to throw off the two men that held him. Then he fought his way back through the other four men surrounding Steve, pushing them all back and taking up his former place in front of Steve and bracing his hands against the walls, blocking their access to him.

"That's not gonna stop us," the leader warned him.

"I know. I get it…but this punk won't even last you five minutes. Trust me. If you really wanna do this…you're gonna need someone who can last…who can…handle all of you," he said, offering them all a twisted, inviting smirk.

"Bucky, what are you doing?" Steve whispered, but their attackers were already starting to see the logic of what Bucky was saying.

"Y'know he's right, Boss," one of them said. "The little baby doll probably couldn't even handle you. The rest of us want a go, too."

"Have your go, then," Bucky offered. "Take me."

"No!" Steve argued. "Bucky, no!"

Bucky ignored Steve…ignored the desperation and horror in his voice. He just kept him behind him…kept him safe. It was what he had always done…no matter what the cost. He would see this through to the end…so long as it meant Steve wouldn't be hurt.

"I can handle it," he said, still negotiating. "Do whatever the fuck you want. Just leave him out of this."

The leader grinned at this. "All right. You've got yourself a deal. But really…why?"

Bucky's cocky exterior cracked briefly at being asked this. "If you have to ask…then you'll never understand. Besides, I already said it, didn't I. If you want him…you're gonna have to go through me."

"Oh, we will."

"Bucky, please…don't…don't do this," Steve begged as his friend turned to face him, keeping his hands braced against the walls in order to be absolutely certain they couldn't get to him. "I don't want you to…not for me…I'm not worth this…"

Growling low in his throat, Bucky briefly lowered his arms and wrapped them tightly around Steve, holding him as close as he possibly could…but not letting the gangsters see the embrace. Steve hated that he was thinking about this now, but he couldn't deny the fact that his breath was stolen by the way Bucky held him…by how intimately their bodies were pressed together.

"Don't say that…not ever. Course you're worth it, Rogers. You are…everything…everything to me," he whispered to him, briefly pressing his lips to his forehead. It wasn't quite a kiss, but it was far too intimate to mean anything else.

"Bucky…" Steve whispered back, the two syllables of his friend's name exhaled on a broken breath. Before anything else could pass between them, though, Bucky felt hands on his body.

At first, he thought they were going to drag him away from Steve, but they didn't. They left him standing right there, right in front of him, so of course he braced his hands back where they'd been to protect Steve from their attackers…but he couldn't protect him from the sight of what was happening to him. There was nothing he could do about that.

Several fingers snaked inside his mouth, wriggling around in an effort to soak up his saliva. Another pair of hands reached around to undo the buttons on his shirt. Then his trousers were being pulled down, along with his underwear, completely exposing him to Steve…and it was a struggle for the much shorter man not to look down…to at least preserve that much of his best friend's dignity. Instead, he forced himself to look into Bucky's eyes…to experience every minute of it with him.

Bucky was barely able to hold back a cry of pain when the first one took him. Preparation had been minimal, and even though he wasn't a complete stranger to this, he was still a little new to this method of fucking, and if the inexperience of the first rapist was anything to go by, things were only going to get worse.

The first two men were nothing but pain, thrust after thrust, erratic and harsh, tearing him open a little bit more each time. The slick of their cum, though, did seem to have one positive effect. It eased the third man a little more…and this one seemed to know what he was doing.

"Hold him," he heard the leader's voice in his ear, heated but also strangely gentle. Then two pairs of hands reached to take his hands away from the wall…from protecting Steve. Briefly, he struggled, but the lead gangster's voice unerringly worked its way into his ear again.

"Don't worry. We won't touch him. You're doin' a damn fine job on your own."

While the other two held him, their leader thrust into him from behind, both hard and gentle by turns. Reaching his hands around, he ran his fingers up and down Bucky's chest. Then, when he suddenly shifted his angle a little bit, his next thrust struck somewhere deep inside him, and the cry that escaped him was a horrifying combination of both pain and pleasure. Chuckling in his ear, the man slowly snaked down a hand to wrap around his cock, stroking and rubbing.

"Come on, you little slut," he whispered, his breath hot and excited against his skin. "I can tell you like this. Go on and come. You know you want to."

He fought it for as long as he could, but this man really knew what he was doing…and it didn't help he was standing in front of Steve…the secret fuel for his own jack off fantasies for many years now. When it finally happened he couldn't hold it back anymore, he was standing so close to Steve, he ended up coming right onto his stomach…and when he looked away in horror and shame, he missed the tiny shudder, and the brief look of unbridled want that clouded his friend's eyes as the warm liquid splashed against his bare skin.

"Bucky," he whispered again, a mix of self-loathing, longing, and sorrow in his voice.

By the time the leader was finished with him, Bucky was finally allowed to place his hands back against the wall, which was good, as he wasn't certain he'd be able to go on standing otherwise.

The last three men were just as painful as the first two, made only slightly easier by the spill of the first three. The rest of them looked only to hurt…and they did a grade A job of it, tearing him open with each new violation. As he fought to stay conscious, Bucky struggled to keep one image in his head…the moment before this had all begun…when Steve had smiled at him…

Yes…he would go through Hell itself for that smile.

By the time all six of them had had him, there was a small pool of blood on the ground where he stood. Just when he thought they might actually be done, he was spun around and forced to his knees and he was presented with yet another hard cock.

"I want your mouth," the leader's voice sounded somewhere above him.

When none of the others made a move against Steve, Bucky did as he was told, taking the man's cock into him all over again, working at him until he felt him begin to shudder. When he tried to pull back, though, he seized his head and held him in place, forcing him to swallow every last drop, nearly choking him in the process. Thankfully, none of the others felt the need to take him again.

"Enjoy the show, kid?" one of the gangsters asked Steve, who could do little more than stand there in shock. "Sure you don't wanna go a few rounds?"

The next move shocked everyone. When the man made a move for Steve, Bucky was suddenly on his feet again, seizing his shoulders. Then his knee was buried in his rapist's groin and he was stumbling backward, yowling in pain…and somehow, Bucky managed to stay upright, despite being in excruciating pain.

"We had a deal," he said slowly, his throat hoarse from the beating it had taken. "You had your fun…now leave. Cuz if you touch him…I swear I'll kill all of you."

For a moment, some of the men looked like they might fight him, but their boss held up a hand, seeming almost impressed with the fact that Bucky was still standing. When he turned and headed out of the alley, the others followed.

Once they were gone, Bucky finally collapsed, uncertain where he'd gotten the strength to stand again in the first place.

"Buck!" Steve shouted, instantly moving forward to catch him, even though his weight carried both of them to the ground. He was still there to hold him. "Damn it! Damn it! Buck! Bucky! Why did this have to happen?!" he cried, holding him as tightly as he possibly could.

"Steve," he whispered, reaching a hand up to brush the hair from his eyes. "It's okay."

"I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

"Steve, calm down. You're gonna have an attack," he soothed, continuing to stroke the side of his face. It was strange…but nice at the same time…to be held by him. "Are you all right?"

"Me? Am I all right?" Steve repeated incredulously. "God damn it…you bastard," he hissed, struggling against the tears he felt shining in his eyes. He had to keep it together…had to stay strong for his friend.

"I'm sorry…I didn't get here sooner. If I'd…if I…"

"What are you apologizing for? You're the one who's hurt."

"And it…was my choice. You…wouldn't have had…a choice."

"But…why?"

"Couldn't let you get hurt…couldn't live with myself. You're my…best friend…and I…love you…"

At this, Steve felt his heart leap into his throat. Uncertain of what he'd meant, he was left wondering if Bucky was aware of what he'd said…and as they sat there, a light rain began to fall.

"Steve…take me home," Bucky finally whispered. "I wanna go home."

"Can you stand?" Steve asked, feeling useless all over again, because he knew he couldn't lift Bucky on his own.

"Yeah, just…just let me lean on you," he mumbled. It was a struggle, but they did eventually manage to get him to his feet and get their clothing righted before slowly making their way out of the alley.

"You ought to see a doctor," Steve scolded half-heartedly. "You're really hurt."

"Nah…it's just like…any other scrape we've ever been in…and I don't…want anyone to see…" he groaned, barely conscious as Steve helped him stumble back to their tiny apartment. By the time they made it home, the rain was coming down much harder.

"Do you think you can handle a shower? We gotta get you cleaned up," Steve said.

Bucky nodded vaguely, letting Steve help him to the bathroom, where he left him to undress and climb under the spray as he went to gather their small arsenal of medical supplies.

Bucky didn't really focus on cleaning at first. For several minutes, he just stood under the water, trying not to think. Without Steve there talking to him, his mind was wandering, inevitably, back to that alley…back to the feeling of hands on him…of helplessness…and pain…and the sight of Steve's horrified eyes only inches from his own.

I…I was…raped. They raped me. I was raped!

The word repeated itself uselessly in his head…like a broken record…raped…rape…rape…

Was it really worth it…to think that this feeling of weakness would never go away…that he might feel their hands on his body for the rest of his life?

Of course it was worth it, he scolded himself harshly. Otherwise…he would be the one standing here now…feeling these things…

The next thing Bucky became aware of was a sharp pain in his knees…then he heard Steve's voice shouting in his ear.

"Bucky! Bucky, are you okay?! What happened?!"

Then he heard the sound of the curtain being ripped open and he finally realized he'd fallen…was on his knees…with his arms wrapped so fiercely around himself that his fingernails dug into the skin of his arms, drawing tiny rivulets of blood.

"I…I…" he murmured, struggling for an explanation, but unable to find one…and the look in Steve's eyes was killing him…the worry…the pain…the guilt.

Then, almost before he knew it, he was throwing his arms around Steve, pulling him close against him, despite the fact that he was soaking wet.

"Please," he sobbed (he hadn't even realized he'd been crying). "Tell me you're all right! Tell me you're not hurt!"

If he wasn't all right…then everything he'd just suffered would be for nothing…and he had to believe this pain meant something.

"I'm okay…I'm not hurt," Steve lied for him, holding him just as tightly. Even though he was physically unmarked, he had been just as badly scarred as Bucky had by what had happened tonight…by witnessing what they had done to him.

They held each other like that for several hours…and though neither would admit it in the morning, they both cried.

XxX

Once Bucky had gotten himself clean, Steve had gone after his injuries with antiseptic. After that, it didn't take him more than five minutes to pass out on the bed they shared, face buried in the pillow. Steve stayed awake for most of the night, just watching over him. Maybe he couldn't do much, but he could at least do that.

Bucky didn't stir the next morning, so Steve let him sleep. Then he reported that Bucky would be absent from work a few days, telling them only that he was very sick. He also informed his professors that he would most likely be absent a few days. Nothing was going to take him away from his friend right now.

Bucky slept the rest of the day. When he finally came around, Steve was in the kitchen, minding a pot of stew.

"Steve?" his slightly panicked voice called from the bedroom. Steve rushed to him, finding him struggling to sit up in bed.

"Hey, no," Steve said gently, going to push him back down. "Don't try to sit up. You need to be lying down. Get some rest." The fact that Steve was easily able to push him back down pretty much spoke for itself.

Bucky groaned as his head hit the pillow once again. Sighing, he threw an arm over his eyes. "Fuck, Steve-o…it hurts. It really fuckin' hurts," he hissed, slowly shifting onto his side.

"I know," Steve said as he sat down beside him, awkwardly reaching over to brush Bucky's sweat-soaked bangs out of his eyes. "That's why you need to rest."

"That…that was real…wasn't it," Bucky finally managed to make himself say.

"Yes," Steve answered sadly. "It really happened. You've been out for about twenty-four hours."

"Twenty-four hours?" Bucky repeated, his gaze sharpening briefly. "What did I…what about…work?"

"Don't worry; I called it in. You really do need your rest right now. Do you…feel up to eating something?"

Bucky shook his head; his eyes had completely lost their usual luster. "I don't feel much like eating," he mumbled, not quite meeting Steve's eyes. Steve felt his heart sink a little further. Bucky was always hungry.

Bucky felt horrible when he looked up to see the defeated look in Steve's eyes. "Hey, hey, hey…don't look like that," he soothed, reaching for Steve and pulling him down to lie beside him…holding him tightly in his arms…clinging even. When they were children in the orphanage, they'd slept like this most nights, but they did it less often these days, even though they shared a bed. "It's gonna be okay. I'll get better."

"Really?" Steve asked, cuddling up against his best friend without really thinking about it.

"Couldn't leave you hangin', could I," he said, struggling to smile as he ran his fingers through Steve's soft hair, taking comfort from the action just as much as giving it. Glancing up, Steve caught a brief glimpse of his expression.

"Hey…don't do that," he said, shrugging his way out of the embrace.

"Do what?"

"Smile like that…when you're not happy. I don't want you to lie to me."

"But I am happy," he insisted, trying to reach for him again, but Steve held himself just out of reach. "I'm happy it wasn't you."

"But it was me. Don't you get it?" Steve struggled to explain. "I hate this…when you get hurt…protecting me…and now…this! Whatever they do to you…they do to me, too."

Steve was on his knees beside Bucky now, his hands angrily fisting the shabby sheets. For a while, they were both silent, staring anxiously at the small section of the bed that separated them from each other.

"What was I supposed to do, Steve? Let them take you? No. I'm always gonna protect you…whatever it takes, because…because I love you."

As Steve met Bucky's gaze across the space between them, he once again felt that strange, giddy sensation of his heart leaving his chest.

"You…said that before…" Steve said slowly.

"And I meant it, then, too," Bucky said, his expression open, fearing…vulnerable. "Steve, I'm not…not lookin' for anything from you. I'm just…feelin' kinda truthful right now. You don't have to think on it anymore than me tellin' you," he said, tearing his gaze away from Steve. The simple words barely scratched the surface of the years of self-loathing, doubt, fear, and love…of coming to terms with how he felt about his best friend…about how he just couldn't bear to not have him in his life…and whether it was right or wrong, it was the truth…his truth.

Steve wasn't sure how long he sat and stared. How could he explain…how could he give voice to it all? The fact that he thought about Bucky all the time…that his heart seemed to skip a bit whenever they held hands…that he dreamed about him…that he had a secret sketchbook full of pictures of him…from full body right down to the tiniest details…like the strong curve of his neck as it met his shoulders…the teasing waistline of his pants whenever he walked around the apartment shirtless…a furtive sketch of the two of them…kissing. How did he explain that he had never felt this way about anyone else…with mere words?

He couldn't. So, just as Bucky looked like he might collapse in on himself, Steve took his hand in his…then he pressed his lips to Bucky's palm, then his wrist, before turning the hand over and kissing the knuckles. For several moments, Bucky just stared at him in shock.

"I didn't…know how you'd react if I just kissed you," Steve explained meekly, "but I've wanted to. I've wanted to for so long now."

Bucky offered him a weak smile. "Well…hey, if you want to, now's your big chance."

It wasn't much like Steve had imagined. Ever since he had known Bucky, he had been a pillar of strength to him and he had trouble imagining him any other way…but Bucky's lips were soft against his…pliant and receptive…and warm…so warm. He was amazed at how gentle his kiss was…and if there was wetness between their cheeks as they kissed, well, neither of them said anything.

They didn't do anything but hold each other and kiss. For many months, it was like that. Bucky recovered, and in the light of day, he was the stronger of the two, walking around with a swagger in his step as if he owned the city. But at night, when the two of them were curled up in bed together, Bucky clung to Steve's small body and Steve cradled him close…as if he were the frail one, and in some ways, he was. Years later, after the serum, Bucky loved the way he could just cuddle perfectly up against Steve's larger frame as they slept…safe…protected…though he would certainly never admit to feeling that way. They treasured what they had…but would always be marked by what it had taken to force them to come out to each other.

XxX