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When Tony casually throws out that he’s having a party on Friday night, Steve casually says to count him and Bucky in.
But when Friday rolls around, Bucky’s not having the best day. He says he feels up to it, though Steve isn’t sure if he believes him. Bucky’s been sullen and anxious since Steve made the post-nightmare coffee at 2am. What they both need is an early night. But Bucky drudges up a hopeful expression, and Steve doesn’t have the heart to put his foot down.
So they wind up at the tower at 8:00 on the dot, laden with two bottles of sparkling cider in a paper bag. Neither of them can get buzzed, so it seems impolite to waste the alcohol. Plus, Steve thinks, it’s probably for the best.
JARVIS directs them up to the lounge on the top floor. As soon as they step into the elevator, Bucky backs into the corner. He digs his metal hand into his pocket and wraps his right arm around his stomach.
“You ok?” Steve can’t help but ask.
“Hm.” It’s not quite an affirmative.
Steve wants to hug him, but it might be too much. Before he has time to decide, the elevator doors slide open again and spit them out into a scene of luxe leather couches and light jazz music.
There are maybe 20 people there, some that Steve recognizes and some that he doesn’t. It’s not a crowd by any means, but it’s still enough to make him wonder again if this really a good idea. Bucky takes a deep breath and walks close to Steve, close enough that his shoulder brushes Steve’s arm. Steve wishes he’d given him the hug.
They drop off the sparkling cider on the drinks table and load up plates with food. It’s standard party fare, but the good stuff. Pizza. Chips. Fruit and veggie trays. Steve spies Nat in the corner talking to Clint and Banner, and he steers Bucky in that direction.
“Hey, the old folks showed up,” Clint teases them.
“Yeah,” Steve says with a laugh. “I think I have to add parties to things I like better in this century. They’re so much more casual.” He looks at Bucky. “Or maybe I’m just less anxious. It was always hard keeping up with this one. A great dancer, a great conversationalist…” Steve hopes he’s not pushing too far.
Bucky ghosts a smile, but it disappears just as quickly.
He stays quiet as they eat. He seems to have an appetite, though, and that eases Steve’s concern a little. But by the time Bucky sets the nibbled crust of his pizza back down on his plate, his hand is shaking. Steve’s not about to embarrass him by asking if he’s ok in front of their friends, but he gives Bucky a meaningful look. Bucky returns it with a nod, and Steve relaxes a little. And when Bucky excuses himself to the bathroom a few minutes later, he doesn’t worry.
Steve does start to worry when 20 minutes elapse and Bucky still hasn’t come back.
“You better hope he’s not getting some action in there,” Clint teases when Steve gets up to go look for him.
“Yeah, right,” Steve says, blushing. “I’m sure it’s…I’m sure he’s fine.”
He scans the room first, just in case by some miracle Bucky decided to socialize with someone else. He’s not around, though. So Steve taps on the bathroom door and quietly calls his name. “Buck? You there?”
There’s a sharp intake of breath. The sound of someone trying not to cry.
A weight settles in Steve’s chest. “Can I come in?”
There’s a pause, then the doorknob rattles as Bucky unlocks it from the inside. He opens it a crack, then enough for Steve to slip inside.
“Hey. What’s going on?” Steve asks. He closes the door behind him. It’s obvious Bucky needs the barrier. And the privacy. The lights are off, but Steve can see the tear tracks on his cheeks.
“I…I don’t…” Bucky turns away from him, gripping the edge of the countertop with his right hand while his metal one embeds in the hem of his shirt. He’s already worn a hole through the fabric.
“It’s ok.” Steve takes a step toward him and slowly puts his hand on Bucky’s back, rubbing his thumb over the tense muscles. “You’re safe.”
Bucky takes a quavering breath, then another. They come too fast and too shallow. He’s not in control.
“It’s ok, Buck. Just try to get your breath. It’s alright. We can go home.”
“I just… I don’t…” Bucky grapples with the words. “I can’t…”
“You’re gonna be fine,” Steve says firmly. He strokes his hand over Bucky’s hair and down the back of his neck.
Bucky turns without warning and practically falls into Steve’s chest, burying his face in his shoulder and grabbing handfuls of Steve’s shirt. His shoulders shake in rapid-fire tremors as his breaths break into sobs.
“Alright.” Steve presses his cheek against Bucky’s ear, half whispering in it and half kissing it. “It’s alright. I promise. It’s alright.”
“S-steve, I…”
“Shhh, it’s ok,” Steve soothes. Bucky’s body shudders against his, and he makes a choked sound. Warm wetness starts to spread over Steve’s shoulder.
Steve doesn’t care. He wonders if Bucky’s going to throw up again, and if he wants to be over the toilet, but he doesn’t move. He keeps his arms around Bucky’s torso, gently rubbing his back.
“I’m…I’m sorry,” Bucky sputters, his teeth chattering as he cycles back into tears.
“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter,” Steve whispers. “All that matters is that you’re ok.”
Bucky swallows thickly. He finally takes a deep breath.
“Are you ok?”
Bucky exhales. “Hm.”
It’s close enough to an affirmative. Steve can live with that.