Bet! sorry if the whole theme is a little on the nose, but it was too perfect for angst to not just roll with it
Withdraw Trigger warnings for implied non con drugs, PTSD, mentions of war, torture, withdrawals etc. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 1 4900 words Angst, More angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI Bucky has been feeling sick for weeks, by the time he starts to look it Steve's patience has run out and he forces him into the labs. Luckily figuring out the problem is much faster than getting him to acknowledge it. Unluckily, there isn't much anyone can do about it.
“He’s withdrawing”
“From what?” Steve asks, anxiety making his voice sharp
“Everything” Tony says, taking over from Bruce, “HYDRA were pumping him full of just about every drug going— appetite suppressants, sedatives-”
“-pain relief-” Banner adds, looking through the two way glass, “and some other compounds we can’t identify”
“Yet” Tony cuts in, “We’ll crack them pretty soon”
He’s aiming for confident. Steve can tell that he earnestly wants to help, so he offers him a tight lipped smile as he nods.
“He’ll be okay” Bruce says, sounding more certain, “but for right now he’s just going to have to ride it out”
There’s an apology in his tone.
“For how long?”
Tony shrugs, flicking through some notes-
“A while” is what the Stark finally decides, “A couple of days, maybe? It depends on what half of this shit is, and how the serum-”
“Can’t you do anything to make it-”
“Steve” Bruce cautions, “We’re doing everything we can”
The ‘don’t push it’ is implied.
Tony is still unhappy about Barnes even being in the tower, let alone in his lab.
The blonde nods again. He’s about to rattle off a ‘thank you for your help’ when the door to the adjacent room opens.
Bucky is perched on the edge of the examination table. He’s shaking like he’s having a seizure, with hair hanging in sweat dampened pieces in front of his eyes.
His eyes look rabid. His pupils are blown and they’re ringed with deep-set bruises.
Y/N decides to approach him slowly, not even sparing a glance in the direction of the two way mirror that she just knows people are watching them through.
“Hi, sweetheart” she coos, coming to a stop a few feet away from him, “How’re you feeling?”
The man doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even blink.
“Not great?” She guesses, reaching out carefully to press her hand flush against his brow, “Still feel like puking?”
He’s clammy, his skin is damp and cool under her touch—
“Mhmm”
A hum is better than no response at all, so she takes it, letting her arm fall back to her side.
“Y/N, if you can convince him to give us a blood sample we might-”
Bucky flinches as the in wall speakers crackle to life above them. She shoots a harsh look at the mirror and her brothers voice vanishes as quickly as it’d come.
“Was that one test too many?”
It’s only then that his eyes roll up to hers.
God, he looks sick.
“-‘m, um, I'm sorry” he whispers, voice cracking painfully around the word,
She just shakes her head, waiting to see if he’s going to say anything else. For a moment, she thinks that he won’t. That he’s going to settle back into silence, but then, he blinks at her,
“Wh-what’s happenin’ to me?”
The waiver in his voice reminds her just how brave he’s being. It’s clear that he’s suffering, that he’s in pain, and the she knows how much he hates being anywhere as remotely clinical as the lab-room where he’s been waiting in for hours, she thinks that it’s a miracle he’s daring to ask her anything, she thinks, let alone something about himself;
“Well…” she begins, “…From what we can see HYDRA had you hooked on a bit of a cocktail…” she pauses, letting him absorb what she’s saying, “… We’re still trying to figure out the exact amounts, Buck-That book we’ve got gives us some clues, so does how you’re feeling, and the readings we’ve got from the scan”
Bucky sniffs, swallowing bile as it floods his mouth again. Everything is spinning, he screws his eyes shut, until the darkness of his eyelids becomes a blinding white, and he’s so scared by the change that he snaps them back open, reaching out to take hold of her fingers in a last ditch attempt at finding some facet of comfort—
Y/N’s heart melts at the gesture. She curls her hand around his, and lets him settle himself for a beat,
“Some blood would tell us more about what is causing what… it’d make it easier to figure out exactly what everything they gave you was for—”
“C-can” he gulps, “can you make it stop?”
There’s no point in lying to him, she decides, He’s had enough of that already—
“No” she says honestly, “Probably not, sweetheart… It looks like you’re goin’ to have to just let it pass regardless, but if we can figure out the details we might be able to take the edge off”
He’s starring at her. His expression is so hopelessly defeated that she can’t help but step closer towards him;
As she moves in, standing directly between his thighs, he crumbles, he visibly shatters, folding forwards with a terrible shudder- The way her hand lets go of his, moving so that she can wrap her arms around his back is a reflex. She’s rewarded with the feeling of him burying his face in her stomach as his lungs start to strain.
“Cou-could you st-stay here?” he asks, voice muffled by fabric and tremors, “If.. I-f I give the sample w-w-would y-you stay?”
“Sure” Y/N agrees quickly, “I can stay right here, okay? We can have Bruce slip in and grab it, you’ll only have to move your arm”
“Okay” he says bravely, “J-just Bruce, ri-right?”
“Just Bruce” she promises, nodding at the mirror, “We can get Steve too, if you want? I’m sure he’s around-”
“Please” Bucky bursts, “P-please don’t— I- I d-don’t w-want him seein’ me like this”
“Okay” she replies calmly, “No Steve”
The door opens quietly, Y/N looks over and smiles encouragingly at the doctor as he makes his way towards them, already holding everything he needs in gloved hands;
“I bet he’s busy, anyway” She’s says, looking back at the mirror, knowing that the blonde is watching behind, “SHEILD will have him up to his neck in paper work for the next month and half now he’s back in their good books.”
She understands why Bucky might want to hide this whole situation from Steve. They’re both protective over the other, and neither is very good at letting the other one fret no matter how justified it might be—
“Okay Sargent Barnes-” Bruce says, almost in introduction-
“Bucky” he corrects shakily,
“Bucky” the man agrees, ignoring the way that the man is still hiding his face against Y/N’s front, “I’m going to bring your sleeve up now, alright? Just try and keep still, I’ll be as quick as I can”
Y/N strokes Bucky’s back, as he nods in agreement, and then when she sees the tourniquet going on above his elbow, she feels him freeze completely. She can only imagine how difficult this is for him, how many horrible memories it must be triggering. Before the needle slips into his skin, she holds him a fraction tighter, and then, when the blood starts to draw, she presses a kiss against his head.
To his credit, Banner is fast.
The whole thing is done in a matter of seconds.
Still, Barnes is hyperventilating now. His ribs are straining, breathes coming in quick shallow bursts that he can’t make any effort to slow.
Bruce doesn’t notice though, or if he does, he’s too polite to comment- He takes his prize and disappears with nothing more than a curt nod in Y/N’s direction;
“All done, handsome” the woman coos after a moment of quiet, “What do you want to do now, huh?”
That question takes Bucky by surprise. It’s clear from the look on his face when he finally shifts to peer up at her that he’d been expecting her to say maybe anything other than that
“Do you have to go?”
“No” she says fairly, “We can stay here, but you’re only going to keep feeling worse, and it’s more comfortable up in the—”
“I can leave?” he asks, clearly confused, “I.. I th-thought you w-were going to- to leave me here until I-”
“No” she says again, “No, Bucky… Of course you can leave, you can go anywhere you want”
Now he only looks more muddled.
He really had been expecting to be locked inside this horribly bright room so he could ‘ride this out’ without causing any trouble.
The idea of not being left in total isolation in an empty, clinical suite genuinely hadn’t crossed his mind.
Y/N thinks that’s awfully sad.
“…Y-you said ‘we’…” Bucky murmurs next, “D-di-did you mean—”
“I’ve taken the week off work” she tells him softly, “I’m all yours, sweetheart— Someone’s got to keep an eye on ya’, and since you’ve already said ‘no’ to Steve I figured-”
“I l-love y-you” he stammers, feeling horribly unworthy, “I- I-I’m s-sor-”
Y/N cuts his apology short by tilting his head up, so that she can press a gentle kiss against his lips.
“I love you too” she swears, smoothing his hair back affectionately, “Baby, and you’ve done so well with all of this, but now I think we should get you out of here.”
Bucky just nods, barley believing his luck- He’s way too far gone to question it, though, so he doesn’t, he just waits, hoping that Y/N will take the lead,
“If he stops tolerating fluids we can arrange an IV ” Bruce’s voice announces via the speakers, “some of these compounds look similar to ketamine, which means—”
“Hallucinations are likely” Y/N inserts calmly, “Yes, Thank you, Dr Banner— I’ve read the same material as you, and I’m well aware of the implications of non-medicated withdrawal”
That information is clearly new to Bucky, who suddenly looks rabid with fear
“H-halluciations?” he parrots, trying to stop himself from crying, “Y-you mean—”
“Don’t worry” she soothes, “You’re going to be okay, It’s alright…”
It’s not, he thinks frantic, I’m dangerous, I—“Hey” Y/N says, tone a little firmer, “Hey, Bucky, look at me-”
He does. His eyes snap to hers, and the moment they do, she finds herself wishing that he was looking anywhere else.
“I promise” she murmurs, “I promise you’re going to be okay”
“I’m scared” he tells her honestly, “Doll, I— god, I— I’m so scared”
Her heart shatters in her chest.
She can feel the shards of it aching, as she reaches up to cup his cheeks.
After everything he’s been through, after all the terrible, horrible things he’s survived, it seems awfully unfair that there’s still more he has to suffer.
It’s no wonder he’s terrified. He’s clearly hurting, and his body is just starting adjust to the lack of drugs it’s been accustom to for nearly 100 years. It doesn’t help that the only facts she’s been able to give him is that it’s probably going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better.
“I know” she whispers, “I know you are”
His lower lip is quivering, his are eyes full of tears and suddenly, he doesn’t look manic, anymore, he doesn’t just look tired, or sick, he looks totally, completely, shattered.
“But, I’m not leavin’ you—” he hears her swear, “—I’m going to look after you okay? No matter how bad it gets, I’m going to make sure you’re alright, I promise”
Steve watches his oldest friend clutching Y/N’s hand and half stumbling out of the lab, and feels guilt flooding his chest like poison.
He wants to help. He wants to make it all go away, but he can’t. He knows he can’t, and even though it’s illogical, he can’t help but feel sickened by how helpless he is in the situation.
“You did the right thing, Cap” Bruce says in consolation, “You got him here, you convinced him to let us run the tests-”
“I lied to him” Steve counters, “I told him I was goin’ to the office-”
“and I told Y/N I didn’t mind my kid sister shacking up with the guy who killed our parents” Tony cuts in dryly, raising his hand to silence Steve’s budding defence of the man, “My point, is that sometimes we lie to the people we love, welcome to the twenty-first century.”
He shrugs, looking pointedly back at his notes.
“weren't they together before you found out about that?” Bruce asks, before remembering that they're supposed to be avoiding that topic all together, “not that it matters - he’s right, Steve— He’s okay, we’ve got some good data, hopefully he’ll clean up quickly enough-”
Tony barks out a laugh that he tries to disguise as a cough when he see’s the genuine look of upset that Steve is wearing.
“Sorry” he says, “But that guy’s blood is… it’s something else… he’s got a hell of a come down headin’ his way”
“But he’ll be fine?” Steve asks, terrified again, “Right?”
“Right” Bruce answers instantly, “Right, just-”
“Not for awhile.” Tony finishes,
“Y/N isn't a child” the other man cuts in helpfully, “and, she has more than enough experience handling Barnes-”
“She’s not his handler” The other Stark bristles, “She loves the guy, which is the only reason I’m-”
“I didn’t mean it like that” Bruce says, calm tone working at diffusing Tony’s budding irritation, “but, again, he’s right Steve— She dotes on him, I think we should leave them to it for a couple of days at least— FRIDAY can keep an eye out”
He doesn’t like the idea of staying away, but it’s clear that he doesn’t have a choice. Barnes had said that he didn’t want him interfering, and he can’t say he blames him. Dignity isn’t something he’s had a lot of, over the years. HYDRA clearly hadn’t been very big on it, so robbing him of the little privacy he’s trying to have would be absurdly selfish.
By the time both Bucky and Y/N have made it back to the room they share, the man is drenched in sweat. He’s shaking so much that he’s barely managing to walk, flesh arm draped around his partners shoulder for support.
“Okay, love, I know… It’s okay, we’re here, you’re alright” she soothes, locking the door behind them, “FRIDAY, lets turn the heat up— Keep it high for the next 48 hours.”
The ‘Yes, boss’ that usually follows a command is drowned up the the sound of Bucky’s retching.
It’s loud, and hollow and he’s hunched over at the waist, and then, he’s puking, stomach acid burning up his throat as he screws his eyes shut—
“Alright” Y/N murmurs, adjusting herself around him the best she can, “Alright, it’s okay”
It’s not. He’s not—
He tries to straighten himself out, but the second he tries to move, it feels like he’s being kicked in the ribs. He doubles over, and then, just as the second round of hurling stops, he drops to his knees.
Y/N can’t catch him, he’s way too heavy, but she can wait until he’s still before moving round to his side, and running her hands through his hair, holding it away from his face as he starts throwing up again.
It hurts. He hasn’t eaten in days, which is probably why it feels like knives are being twisted in his stomach as he continues to cough wetly into his own lap.
“You heard what Bruce said about fluids, right?”
He nods as much as he can with the way she’s holding his hair.
If I can’t keep them down, I get an IV.
She suspects the way that he’s processed the sentiment is a little off. She thinks that she should probably remind him that hooking him up to a saline bag won’t be a punishment he earns by not drinking enough, but now doesn’t seem like the time. Not with the way he’s starting to sob-
Hollow, gasping cries are rattling his chest, tears starting to stream down his face, mixing with whatever other bodily fluids are shining by his jaw.
“Okay, Buck...” she soothes, taking a hair tie from her wrist and using that to hold his hair in place, “It’s all going to be alright”
Exhausted, blood shot eyes roll over to her as she slips into his field of vision.
He doesn’t believe her at all.
“Don’t leave me” is all he manages to say, “Please.. I— I d-don’t w-want to die on my own—Please I- I want to die with you.”
And then, just like that, he’s not just sobbing anymore.
He’s weeping. It’s loud, and uncontrollable. He’s shaking and looking at her with a look that she knows will stick behind her eyes forever;
“You’re not going to die” she promises lamely, tugging him into her chest, wrapping her arms around his back not caring for one second about the way that he’s still covered in puke, “But I’m still not leaving you on your own…”
Bucky disagrees with her. He can’t catch his breath, he can’t breathe and that alone might kill him. Let alone the way his entire body feels like it’s being torn apart from the inside out— This, whatever this new, incredible pain is, is worse than anything he remembers having lived through before, and some of that had nearly finished him off—
He gags, into her chest, feeling her hands stroking the burning skin of his back through the material that is clinging to his body, now.
“Oh, sweetheart” she sighs, “Lets get you in the shower”
While we can still move you
She doesn’t say that out loud. She doesn’t have too.
He’s not going to fight, or tell her that he doesn’t want to move— He just keeps crying as she helps him drag himself into their bathroom, and then, into the walk in cubicle, under a stream of warm water he doesn’t remember her starting.
The noise is soothing. So is the feeling of it rushing over him, drenching his hair, washing his face; and then, he sees her.
She’s naked, and perfect and kneeling down in front of him.
He’s still dressed, he realises with a blink that he’s still wearing his t-shirt and sweatpants.
Mechanically, he moves to take his shirt off.
It’s agony. He doesn’t know why, but the second he moves his shoulder it feels like the entire seam of his scar is tearing open. His bones all feel broken. He makes a noise that sounds like a wounded animal, and then, Y/N is moving for him; she’s guiding the fabric up and over his chest, and she’s stroking his cheek as he whimpers and whines and finally kicks his legs free from his pants.
He feels like he’s just run a marathon, like he doesn’t have an ounce of energy left. So he just lets himself fall back against the towels, crying, and shivering under the spray of water.
Y/N cleans him slowly, taking her time lathering him up in sweet smelling soap. She doesn’t touch is scar, though. It’s red, and angry, and it looks awfully painful.
HYDRA had a morphine substitute going almost round the clock when he was off ice, she recalls, that’s probably why.
“Can I touch your shoulder, love?” she asks calmly, “You can say no”
The reminder that he’s free to refuse is very much needed. The terror driven ‘yes ma’am’ he’s about to blurt out dies in his throat, and he just simpers for a moment before flexing metal fingers and whispering out a “Please don’t” that Y/N thinks might be the bravest thing she’s heard him say.
“Okay” she agrees with a smile, “Okay, Buck— I know it hurts”
“E-ev-everything hurts”
She nods, stroking his cheek with her thumb.
“I know” she says, “I know it does, I’m sorry”
“W-whats happening’ to me”
“You’re withdrawing” she repeats, knowing that he already knows “All those drugs HYDRA had you hooked on, baby, all of it’s gone— there was a pump in your arm, it kept it all on automatic but there isn’t anyone left to put in a re-fill, remember? so now you’re detoxing, it’s all leaving’ your system”
That all sounds like something he’s been told before. He remembers fragments of conversations, of talks with her, and her brother, and Bruce; about his arm, and about the components inside and how they were using them to medicate him— He remembers them deciding not to take it out, to let it run it’s course, not wanting to just cut him off cold turkey—
“I, I can’t do this” he whispers, “I- I need I— p-please j-just just-”
“We can’t” Y/N says sadly, “Bucky we tried, remember? There isn’t anything we can do, the units been deactivated and we can’t just throw another one in, it doesn’t work that way.”
He’s so hopelessly, crushingly defeated that all he can do is keep crying.
The feeling of his lovers fingers drifting across his face is the only facet of comfort he has, so when they stop, it’s more than he can bare.
His flesh hand shoots up to hers, so that he can press it back against his jaw with a look so desperate that she can feel her own chest aching;
“You’re going to be alright” she promises again, “We’ve run all the tests, love… It’s going to be a rough couple of days but after, when it’s all run it’s course you’ll feel better than you did before”
He doesn’t believe there’s going to be an after. He’s honestly certain that he’s going to die in agony before anything can ‘run it’s course’ -
“I know you’re scared, I know it’s all too much” she murmurs, leaning in to kiss his brow, “But, you’ve done it before… so many times, love… and this time, I’m going to be here, you’re not going to be on your own”
A line forms between his eyes, he doesn’t remember, he—
Oh, oh god.
He remembers hell. He remembers flashes of something he’d hoped had been nightmare— stone walls, and clawing at his skin until it tears open underneath his fingers, and, and the sound of screams, of his own screams until his voice gives in, and, no, not it’s all way too much—
He’s throwing up again, even though nothing is coming up. He’s gagging and spluttering and his heart is racing.
Y/N realises what must’ve triggered this reaction, and shakes her head the second he can see—
“Don’t think about that” she whispers, “there’s a reason you don’t remember it all, okay? It’s not your fault and it’s not important— What is important, is that you hear me, okay? I’ve got you, and this, this is all going to be okay”
The nod he gives her is barely a twitch, but she catches it all the same, and then, a few minutes later when she turns the water off, and feels flesh fingers reaching out for her hand, she catches that too.
She is the only thing he cares about right now. His entire world is searing, blazing pain, but she, she is soft, and kind and he loves her, and he trusts her and even though he’s still half convinced that this is really going to kill him, if he gets to die holding her hand then maybe the pain won’t seem so bad.
Bucky doesn’t remember her helping him put boxers on, or how he got into their bed.
He remembers the way his crying had gotten more hysterical when she’d let go of his fingers so that she could put a towel on the floor beside him, and he remembers the way that when she’d gotten under the covers he’d rolled over, ignoring the way that his whole body had felt like it’d torn apart at the action, so that he could bury his face in the crook of her neck— so that he could sob into her skin and cling onto her body in an attempt to keep her close.
“My sweet, sweet boy” Y/N purrs, taking the hint and tugging him into her front, “If you want anything… anything at all, you just tell me, alright?”
“Y-you” he gulps, “I- I want y-you— I- I need you, I— I’m s-so scared— I- I j-just want you here”
“I’m here” she whispers, trying to calm him down, “I’m right here”
He forces a nod. This time, the action is more notable, so is the way his hands tighten around her waist, locking himself in position so firmly that nothing, nobody, would stand a chance at prising him away.
“Hush now” she says, stroking his hair, “You just keep breathing for me, okay? that’s your only job right now… you just need to breathe, and rest”
Breathe, and rest.
“I-I’ll t-try I— I swear”
His promise is hissed out through gritted teeth, but Y/N still smiles when she hears it. She smiles, and kisses the top of his head, feeling his sobs becoming quieter and quieter until eventually, they fade off into the kind of quiet, uneven gasps that usually means he’s asleep.
Thank god, she thinks, praying he’ll stay that way for awhile.
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