Next week, Bucky is beat to hell and back by a string of nightmares, worst shape Sam’s ever seen him in since they took up sharing a bed. Waking to clear signs that Bucky hadn’t slept the night before was one thing. Bad enough, but Sam’s not gonna fuss over him if he doesn’t want to be fussed over. But waking up to the bed shaking, to the panting, the little gasping bit-off moans and the actual tears, Sergeant, 32557…
He tries everything he can think of from chamomile tea to multiple orgasms but after five sleepless nights even a super soldier starts to look a little ragged and Bucky shakes his head when Sam says he’s turning in, asks if Bucky’s coming with. He hasn’t felt so helpless in a long, long ass time as he does just standing there, out of ideas, looking down at Buck who’s sitting on the couch, off-balance cuz his left arm is tucked into a case and set up high in the hall closet, like it’s a weapon Buck’s afraid he’ll use in his sleep.
“I am taking you to your shrink tomorrow if I have to tie you up and toss you in the trunk,” he murmurs against Bucky’s mouth before pulling him close by the front of his shirt and kissing him hard. Bucky squeezes the back of his neck, just shy of painful, and neither confirms not denies his amenability to this plan.
Sam leaves him sitting there on the couch and goes to bed.
He manages to wait until dawn before he creeps out to check on Bucky, and stops dead in the doorway. Buck is stretched out flat on his back, face peaceful in repose, his hand resting lightly on Tiger’s back. How he’s managing to sleep when he’s more or less got a fluffy portable magic fingers going full speed on his chest, Sam can’t guess.
And he’s so gonna mutter later about being shown up by a cat, but for now he just goes back to bed and passes out at last, waking hours later to the smell of coffee right beside him. Buck’s sitting up against the headboard, reading a book and absently stroking the cat.
“What a lazybones, sleeping ‘til ten,” Bucky murmurs, and Sam muffles a groan in his pillow when he realizes he’s starting to recognize Bucky’s talking-to-the-cat voice. “What would his mama say, hm?” Bucky rubs his thumb against Tiger’s cheek, who opens his honey-colored eyes to look first at Bucky, then right at Sam, smug as anything he’s ever seen. The no cats in the bedroom rule definitely just went out the window, and Sam isn’t even mad.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: fill 2/3
Date: 2021-05-28 02:32 am (UTC)He tries everything he can think of from chamomile tea to multiple orgasms but after five sleepless nights even a super soldier starts to look a little ragged and Bucky shakes his head when Sam says he’s turning in, asks if Bucky’s coming with. He hasn’t felt so helpless in a long, long ass time as he does just standing there, out of ideas, looking down at Buck who’s sitting on the couch, off-balance cuz his left arm is tucked into a case and set up high in the hall closet, like it’s a weapon Buck’s afraid he’ll use in his sleep.
“I am taking you to your shrink tomorrow if I have to tie you up and toss you in the trunk,” he murmurs against Bucky’s mouth before pulling him close by the front of his shirt and kissing him hard. Bucky squeezes the back of his neck, just shy of painful, and neither confirms not denies his amenability to this plan.
Sam leaves him sitting there on the couch and goes to bed.
He manages to wait until dawn before he creeps out to check on Bucky, and stops dead in the doorway. Buck is stretched out flat on his back, face peaceful in repose, his hand resting lightly on Tiger’s back. How he’s managing to sleep when he’s more or less got a fluffy portable magic fingers going full speed on his chest, Sam can’t guess.
And he’s so gonna mutter later about being shown up by a cat, but for now he just goes back to bed and passes out at last, waking hours later to the smell of coffee right beside him. Buck’s sitting up against the headboard, reading a book and absently stroking the cat.
“What a lazybones, sleeping ‘til ten,” Bucky murmurs, and Sam muffles a groan in his pillow when he realizes he’s starting to recognize Bucky’s talking-to-the-cat voice. “What would his mama say, hm?” Bucky rubs his thumb against Tiger’s cheek, who opens his honey-colored eyes to look first at Bucky, then right at Sam, smug as anything he’s ever seen. The no cats in the bedroom rule definitely just went out the window, and Sam isn’t even mad.