After Bucky was released from the hospital, it only took him a couple of weeks to give up on himself. Difficult to believe in any kind of future when the simple act of staying alive was almost too big an effort.
Out the frosted window, across the street, there was a tiny homeless guy burrowing under an awning.
Almost Like An Accident | 26666 words
Bucky's a ex-POW vet who's down on his luck. Steve's a vet who landed a little more on his feet. Aka, hooker!Bucky fic.
Critical Feline Mass | 39533 words
Adjusting to civilian life is hard for any military veteran — especially for one ex-sniper with a cybernetic arm, a classic Harley, and friends who keep trying to ‘help.’ When Sam Wilson at the VA sends Sergeant Barnes to rent a room from the hottest guy in the DC area, Bucky thinks maybe civilian life is worth it after all. And then he finds out Captain Rogers is everything Bucky’s not: a real hero, a Medal of Honor recipient, and an all-around nice guy. Bucky doesn’t have a chance in hell with him.
Sam was a huge help to Steve Rogers when he left the military. In the spirit of ‘pay it forward,’ Steve decides to rent out his basement room to a vet in need. But when Sergeant Barnes shows up on his doorstep, he knows he’s in for a world of trouble. Barnes is exactly what Steve never knew he wanted, from his bedroom eyes to his wicked innuendos. And he’s Steve’s tenant.
A love story in twelve chapters, including two Harley-Davidsons, a guardian angel, multiple snipers, the only woman who can scare them into behaving themselves, spontaneous kittens, and one attacking sheep.
Sorry, Not Sorry | 51566 words
All Steve Rogers ever wanted was to do what's right. So when he drops in to volunteer at the Brooklyn VA Outpatient Center, he’s surprised to learn some veterans actually resent Captain America and everything he represents. One veteran in particular is determined to make sure Steve understands just how much he dislikes him.
Gimme Shelter | 84354 words
Bucky Barnes is a homeless, recovering addict and veteran; he's accepted to a VA homeless shelter pilot program meant to help vets get back on their feet. He has his work cut out for him: he needs to find a job, save money, and find housing, but he's getting sidetracked by his attraction to Steve Rogers, one of the therapists in the program. He's kind, smart, funny, and clearly, in a relationship. But Bucky can't help the feeling that Steve is interested in him too.
Thawing | 41771 words | Part 1 of Thawing
Heroin. It's a helluva drug.
Life Sentence | 70470 words | Part 2 of Thawing
No one tells you that withdrawals are only the beginning. Bucky thinks he's starting to understand why.
A Little Unsteady | 7293 words
Sometimes, when you're feeling unsteady, it's okay to take somebody's offer of a hand up. Bucky and Steve are homeless veterans, Sam is a cinnamon roll, too good for this world. This story is rated M, primarily for language and the hint of a relationship between Bucky and Steve in the future.
Trained On You | 93460 words
Bucky Barnes is disabled veteran who's trying to learn how to live his life now without his left arm. His best friend Natasha pushes him to build up the strength and confidence he'd lost along with his limb at the Rally Health and Wellness Center with the help of top notch trainer/physical therapist Sam Wilson.
Bucky knew it'd be hard work. What he didn't realize was just how difficult it'd be to concentrate on his own rehabilitation at the innocuous, easygoing gym. But after he first lays eyes on new trainer and walking wet dream Steve Rogers, it's all he can do not to fall face first on the treadmill.
Working out had never gotten Bucky so worked up before. Go hard or go home? Yeah, he's definitely going home hard.
Natasha sets Tony up with a blind date, who is running an hour late. Natasha just said broody hot guy, with brown hair, formal leather boots & a leather jacket. So he mistakes Bucky for his date who is brooding at the bar after the shittiest day. Bucky doesn't have the heart to tell him & Oh dear lord he's pretty & interested. They get real cozy & flirty, then Tony's real date Logan shows up... Bucky's not letting this dude ruin the best date hes had in years. Happy Ending Pls & Thank You?
He Shoots, He Scores
Tony checked hiswatch and tapped his foot some more. Swear to god, he was gonna give thisasshole another five minutes and then he was out the damn door. He only agreedto the blind date because Nat was getting on his case regularly, and he thoughtif he did one date, maybe she’d leave him alone.
Probably not,Tony considered. Variable reward system. Her nagging him had gotten him toagree to one date after six weeks. Next time, she’d nag for eight weeks.
Ug.
The door openedagain and Tony’s gaze went to the newcomer, checking him against thedescription he’d long since memorized.
Dark hair,broody. Leather jacket and boots. Hot.
Dark hair, headbowed, moved to the bar like he was parting the Red fucking Sea, check.
Leather jacketand boots. Check.
Hot. Check,write the fucking check.
Smoking hot.
The guy wentstraight to the bar and ordered a double whiskey and a beer chaser. He washalfway through the beer when Tony raised his chin to the bartender andsignaled. That guy, those drinks,on me. It was a complicatedseries of hand gestures, but Tony was a good tipper and the bartender knew it.So he’d taken pains to get to know Tony. Either that, or Tony was going to endup footing the bar tab for the entire night.
Which might havebeen okay, too.
The bartenderleaned close to Walks in Beauty (and wow, he was so hot that Tony was doing themental Byron, so bad, he was sunk already… Maybe he should have taken Nat up ona date earlier, because she shoots, she scores, Raven Tresses was on his wayover.)
“Shove over,”the guy said.
“Huh?”
“Need t’ put myarm up,” the guy said. “M’ shoulder’s killin’ me and if I sit on th’ other sidewith my arm up, everyone’s gonna stare.”
Tony was aboutto inquire further when his gaze fell on the man’s sleeve. Which was empty.Huh. Nat hadn’t mentioned that, and then Tony had to wonder if she’d done it onpurpose because she didn’t want Tony to form expectations, or because shethought Tony wouldn’t want to date someone who was missing a limb.
“Sure, sure,”Tony said, and he slid over in the booth. The guy practically fell in the seatnext to him and groaned as he stretched out the stump; from the dent in hissleeve, it looked like his arm ended about two inches over his elbow.
“I got aprosthetic,” the guy said, “but it’s fuckin’ heavy and I hate wearin’ it.Thanks for the drink, hot shot.”
“You wantanother beer? Or cheese fries or something? Honestly, the whole buying someonea drink is old hat. I’m trying to expand my repertoire,” Tony said.
“Been a whilesince anyone even bought me a beer,” the guy said.
“Well, that’sjust short sighted,” Tony said. He waved over one of the waitresses. “Ang,bring -- cheese fries okay? Yeah, that, and another beer, and a scotch? Thanks,love.”
“Sure thing,Tony,” she said, and bounced off.
“Yeah, okay,you’re Tony Stark,” the guy said. “Not really where I’d expect to find you.Not… razzle-dazzley enough for you.”
Tony was almostaffronted. “Razzle-dazzley?”
“You know,matching dancing girls and glitter bombs and flying cars,” the guy said. “Thatseems more your speed than pickin’ up a sad sack who’s down an arm an’ a job.”
Tony made anoise of sympathy. “Rough day, huh? Well, you know who I am, what’s your name?”
“Bucky Barnes,”he said. “An’ yeah, it’s been for shit today.”
Bucky? Bucky,really? Well, that would explain why Nat hadn’t given him a name. Tony wasn’tso shallow to turn down a date with a guy with one arm, but he might well haveturned down a date with a grown man who went by the name Bucky.Of course, all she would have had to do was show him a damn picture…
Angie came backwith booze and fries; she truly was an angel. Bucky scooped up a handful offries, dredged them through the ranch dressing, and stuffed them in his mouth,chasing it with a hefty swallow of beer.
“Tell me aboutyour crappy day,” Tony invited.
“You serious?”Bucky stared at him for a moment, then taking something in Tony’s expression aspermission, went into it.
They drank beerand went through a truly epic number of fry baskets. Bucky talked about gettinglaid off from Hammer Industries, and Tony told ridiculous stories about hisinterns at SI. Bucky complained about the way his prosthetic fit, and themuscle pain that he had in his shoulder all the time from wearing it. Tonysuggested they go get a couples massage as a later date. Bucky talked about hisroommate, who was a starving artist who’d just actually managed to get a boothat a local festival and sold a few pieces, which meant they weren’t going tostarve to death before Bucky’s unemployment came in.
“What did you dofor Hammer, anyway?”
“Tech support.Even a one armed guy can answer the phone,” Bucky said. “I misunderstood th’purpose of their tech support, though. We have-- had.Had a minimum of calls transferred to sales. I thought I was s’posed to helppeople fix their damn stuff.”
Tony madeanother mental note to see if he could get a recruiter to call -- if Tonyoffered the job directly, Bucky would probably turn it down, but a third partyrecruiter could probably get Bucky to at least go in for an interview. Poachingoff Hammer was its own reward.
Tony talkedabout some recent developments in his research departments, which includedprintable organs.
“Y’ should makepatterns for print ups of prosthetics,” Bucky suggested. “The one the VAcleared me for weighs a ton and it’s not very adjustable.”
“That’s a…that’s a damn good idea,” Tony said.
“Enlightenedself-interest,” Bucky said, waving his stump awkwardly.
They moved on tomusic and movies, with a vast venn diagram of matching preferences when a shortguy with truly ridiculous sideburns stomped up to the table. “You Tony?”
Tony blinked andleaned back to look at who was accosting them. Dark hair. Broody. Leatherjacket and boots.
He glanced atBucky, back at the guy who might have actuallybeen his blind date. He squeezedBucky’s knee under the table.
“No,” Tony said.
After the guystormed off, muttering about only being two hours late, and what did peopleexpect these days, Bucky turned to Tony. “What was that about?”
Tony ran histongue over his teeth. “I… I’m so sorry,” he said. “I thought you were the guymy friend set me up with. But… you’re not, are you?”
“No, I’m justthe guy you’ve been buying drinks for all night?”
“Yeah, I thinkthat was her pick,” Tony said, and he squeezed Bucky’s knee again. “You’re mypick. He shoots, he scores! Come on, let’s blow this place before he comesback.” Tony raised a finger for the tab.
“I ain’t givin’up th’ best date I had in ages to someone who can’t be bothered t’ show up ontime.”
“Best date, huh?”
“Well, so far,”Bucky said. “I expect more razzle-dazzle next time.”
Tony wasgrinning. “You want it, Buckaroo, you got it.”
Also a fill for @tonystarkbingo for square K1: image of Tony Stark saying “Razzle-Dazzley?”
it is an actual crime that there are only 137 fics on ao3 tagged "Disabled Bucky Barnes" just saying... come on y'all time to stop being so afraid of the big scary 'd' word...
It rankles that his drink was made before he even got a chance to order it.
What if he wanted a change?
What if he were adventurous and bold?
What if he tried something new?
---
Or, Steve Rogers shakes up his gray daily routine in 2014 by going back home to Vinegar Hill. To his surprise, the Jewish deli he used to frequent with Arnie is still standing.
And Steve's whole life changes again.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Characters: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes
Additional Tags: Chronic Fatigue, CFS/ME, bucky has chronic fatigue, Steve Rogers is a good husband, carer steve rogers, Disabled Bucky Barnes, aac
Series: Part 3 of Disabled/Chronically Ill Bucky Barnes
Summary:
Bucky has ME/CFS and is having a flare day. Steve is on hand to be a supportive husband and help out.
Story in entirety
Bucky felt a slight wetness trickle down his face. He felt like crying more aggressively but he was just so tired. His limbs felt like they had been replaced with lead and his head replaced with a dense cloud. He couldn't even lift his head to check the time.
"fr-. fi-ay?" He mumbled.
"Sargent Barnes are you alright? You appear to be in distress, Would you like me to call someone for you?"
"Sss-efe"
"The Captain is on his way up now."
Bucky sighed, exhausted from the simple task he completed. His eyes drooped and he fought against them to stay awake long enough to greet his husband.
"Buck? Are you alright? Friday called me up." Steven entered quietly and squatted down near the head of the bed so Bucky would be able to see him without moving. Bucky tried to open his eyes as wide as he could and looked up- his answer of 'yes' to Steven's question.
"Do you need anything?"
He looked down and then locked eyes with Steve.
"Do you want me to stay?"
He looked up.
"Alright- will do. In bed, or the chair?"
Bucky blinked heavily before looking over at the armchair. Steve pulled it over and sat down. He reached and hand to hover over Bucky's, waiting for confirmation that it wouldn't trigger him further. Bucky looked up and let his eyes close, feeling his lover's hand sit heavily on his.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bucky stirred. His body ached and he was still fatigued, but it was more manageable. He opened his eyes and looked for Steve; finding him still sat in the armchair, now engrossed in a book. Bucky vocalised softly to get his attention.
"Hey Buck." Steve said, dog earing his page and setting the book down. "How you feeling?"
"Tired." He said.
"I bet- you looked worn out. Good you were able to get some hours of sleep though. Do you want to sleep some more, or change it up?"
"Maybe you could help me to the couch?"
"Sure, do you want to use the hoist, the wheelchair, or walk?"
"Hoist? I want to have some conscious time when we get there."
"You got it, can I help you move into position?"
Bucky nodded and let Steve manipulate his limbs as needed. Steve positioned Bucky so he was sitting in the fabric sling which he then connected up to the ceiling hoist. As it lifted Bucky off the bed, Steve held him steady whilst directing the hoist along the ceiling rails to above the couch. It descended slowly, until Bucky was fully sat on the chair. Steve unhooked it, and helped Bucky to position himself comfortably.
Bucky exhaled loudly, letting his body sag back into the cushions. "Tired." He sighed, shivering slightly from the exertion of moving. "Crashing..." He managed to get out before passing out into his husband's hands.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"-ucky? Hey, you with me?"
Bucky felt his attention being dragged back to the real world. He could feel Steve squeezing his legs, trying to recirculate the blood to his brain.
"Well good thing we didn't try walking." Steve said, smiling softly up at Bucky. "Can I sit or do you need something first?"
"Water bottle? Then sit?" Bucky let his head flop towards the empty spot next to him in a manner which he hoped conveyed alluring intent. Steve laughed and sat down putting the water bottle against Bucky's side and propping the straw up near his mouth. Bucky sighed and tipped his head to look at Steve and attempted a smile.
"I love you. Thanks for helping me."
"Always Bucky- when we said 'in sickness in health', I meant it."
Bucky imprecisely moved his hand in Steve's direction, hoping his intention was clear. Steve understood and picked up his hand, squeezing it gently. "Always Buck, always."
I won't say much, just that this is finally being properly re-written. Enjoy! xx
"Fucking elevator."
Steve turned around and eyed the staircase. He would have to walk up all eleven floors to get to his flat.
Overkill.
His lungs didn't like him and he didn't like his lungs, because they made him stop every so often, threatening to just give up on him. He pulled his rucksack off his shoulders and rummaged around with clumsy fingers until he finally found his inhalator.
Sometimes he genuinely wondered why he hadn't died as a child. That would've been easier than the life he had to live now...
"Whatever," he shoved the inhalator into the back pocket of his jeans and continued his way up the stairs.
The amount of relief he felt when he finally reached his door was insane and he jammed his keys into the lock, slamming the door behind him once he stepped inside. It took him another moment or two to catch his breath again so he was able to take off his shoes and jacket.
If it hadn't been so late already, he wouldn't have hesitated to wake the housekeeper, but he didn't feel like waking the old man at this unholy hour. Even though... -but no, he couldn't blame poor Mr.Jenkins for the terrible state his health was in.
He flung his rucksack aside and slouched to the kitchen, raiding the fridge for something edible before he made himself comfortable on his shabby couch.
Not that he minded it being shabby, not at all. He loved his flat. It was spacious and cheap, so he wouldn't complain. Sure, it could use fresh paint on the walls and the floor was creaking in several spaces, but he loved the huge windows and the gorgeous view he had from up here. And the best thing - nobody was living above him (because there simply was no other floor) and he had the whole 11th floor for himself too. Nobody ever wanted to move into the flat opposite from his and he liked it like that.
It wasn't like he was anti-social or anything, he just preferred to be alone and have his privace. He as enough people at work every day, anyways. Besides, people usually ignored him, seeing that he wasn't particularly handsome and women obvioulsy preferred tall, beefy man and his poor health didn't make things better either.
Steve sighed heavily and grabbed the remote control next to him, zapping through the channels until he found something mildly interesting.
-
Something scratched against his door and he startled awake, blinking sleepily. The only light was coming from the TV and he scrambled to his feet to switch on the light when he heard the noise again.
Did someone try to break into his flat?!
It sounded like something metallic was scraping against the lock and Steve dashed to the kitchen to grab a knife. Just to be sure.
A couple of moments passed in silence and then he heard a loud curse and someone kicking against the door, causing the wood to groan in protest. Steve frowned.
Burglars wouldn't try to kick in a door, would they? At least they would try to be a bit less loud... right? Steve had no clue how the brain of a burglar worked, to be honest.
"Hello," he called out and listened. It was silent again, then-
"Ey, you punk! What are you doing inside my flat!?"
He didn't know the voice. However, this was his flat.
Curious as he was, he put the knife aside and walked over to pull the door open, almost being knocked over by the man looming outside.
"Excuse me, sir, but this is my flat. Not yours."
The man swayed slightly and he seemed to have trouble to focus on Steve. Drunk. Obviously.
"You gotta be kidding me."
Steve shook his head and hoped that the other man wouldn't loose his balance, because there was no way that Steve could help him to his feet again. He looked the stranger up and down and, to his astonishment, saw that he had a metal hand.
"Lemme in."
Said metal hand grabbed his shoulder and pushed him aside, almost knocking him into the wall.
"Hey! Mister! You have to get out!"
The stranger grunted something and walked down the hall and straight through the living room to Steve's bedroom.
Steve hurried after him and decided to call the police, because he wouldn't have a stranger in his flat. No. Way.
The man kicked his shoes off and settled down on the bed, curling up in the middle of it. His dark hair in stark contrast with the white sheets and the metal hand glowing faintly in the light that shone through the window.
"Uh... Can you please get out of my bed?"
Grey-blue eyes found his and looked at him for a moment before they closed again.
"Boy. Listen. 'M tired..."
Boy?! He was 25, not a boy. Steve snorted and shook his head.
"Yeah. Whatever. This is my home and my bed, so please get up and leave."
He got no answer, but a deep, rumbling snore filled the air a second later.
Great.
He rubbed his face with both hands, then eyed the stranger on his bed wearily.
Maybe he shouldn't call the police. That dude really seemed too drunk to go anywhere and as long as he was knocked out there was nothing to fear.
-
Something hard prodded his side and he growled, turning around in order to get away, but knocked into something solid instead.
A body.
"Woah!"
Steve scrambled out of the bed and found himself sitting on the floor, staring at the stranger in his bed.
"What-?"
It took him a moment, before it all came back to him. Last night that stranger had just come into his flat and crashed on his bed... but how the hell did Steve end up next to him!?
The stranger laughed, a sound that made Steve's spine tingle in a pleasant way.
"Calm down boy. Nothing happened. You just suddenly, in the middle of the night, snuggled into bed next to me. I was too drunk to do anything, really."
Steve felt himself blush and opened his mouth to reply something, but no sound came out. The stranger laughed again.
"How about I make us breakfast?"
-
His mouth was watering and he quickly grabbed his plate of bacon and eggs, but still eyed the stranger wearily.
"Who are you?"
"James, but friends call me Bucky... So you can call me whatever you want--?"
"Steve," he managed to mumble around a mouthful of bacon.
Bucky smiled, "Yeah, you look like a Steve."
Steve frowned, but didn't inquire any further.
"You know, I'm actually about to move inside the flat opposite from yours. No idea why I took the wrong door last night... Too much Tequila, I guess."
Well, that was news. News Steve really didn't like, because it meant that he would have to give up his solitude on the 11th floor.
"How come I've never seen you before?"
Bucky sat down as well and took a few bites before he answered.
"Like I said, I am just moving in. Didn't have any time to introduce myself."
"Maybe you should've done so. Wouldn't have freaked me out as much as it did this way."
He sounded more mean than he intended to, but all he could think about was, that he didn't want a next door neighbour. No matter how handsome he might've been...
Bucky grinned sheepishly, "I didn't do anything inappropriate, did I?"
Steve quickly shook his head and looked down at his plate again, trying to stay angry at the other man. That smile was just so very infectious. And not just the smile... Bucky really was attractive. Steve felt himself blush and kept hoping against hope that his opposite wouldn't notice.
That deep, rich laughter filled the air again and it caused Steve to blush even more.
"Should I have done something inappropriate?"
He had no idea what to say so he kept his mouth shut, concentrating on eating instead. Thankfully, Bucky decided to let it be for the time being and started chatting about the troubles he'd had when moving in.
"That old Jerkins... Name's fitting, really, he is a jerk."
Steve chuckled, "Why? What did he do?"
"Told me I couldn't bring my piano and my guitar. That he doesn't like 'those people who make music'... Saying we're all drug addicts and scum."
"He was always nice to me..."
Bucky shrugged, "He doesn't have to be nice to me. As long as he doesn't cause me any troubles, I am fine with him being an asshole."
"Sounds legit."
Steve was just about to finish the last of his breakfast when Bucky got to his feet.
"You leaving?"
He nodded and Steve felt himself pout against his will. What was his brain thinking?!
"Aw, don't look like that. You know where to find me."
Bucky winked at Steve and then sauntered out of the kitchen without another word.
