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Bucky POV 

"I hate you, tiny frog," I growl and smush the stuffed animal between my hands. The overwhelming scent brings me no peace as I think about the real reason Steve got me this thing. 

I've concluded that Steve didn't really get this because he was worried about the one night he'd be away. No. He got it in hope that maybe it would actually work and just maybe he'd finally be able to get some sleep without worrying that he'd have to get up an hour later because I just can't seem to stop screaming. He got this stupid little frog because he regrets everything that he's done for me but he can't just hand the work off to a real person because nobody else would want me so he just dropped the work on me and this frog. 

In a sudden burst of aggression leftover from being the Winter Soldier, I throw the frog on the floor as hard as I can. It's full of fluff, so the throw is completely unsatisfying but I don't want to trash the room that doesn't belong to me so I don't throw anything else. I just pull the bedding off of the bed I don't use and drop it on the floor, along with a pillow. 

I lie down on my floor nest and hold the frog close to me. I hate the way it smells, so I push it away. I feel so suddenly alone, so I hold it again. Ew. It smells. I'm hungry. 

I get up and kick the frog under the bed so I can just forget about it. I go into the kitchen, leaving the lights off, and repeatedly look inside the fridge and cabinets before deciding I don't want to eat. I head back into the room I sleep in and lie back down. I lie still for about half an hour and realize, yes, I am hungry. I get up again and go to the kitchen again and make myself a bread sandwich. It's just three pieces of bread. 

I hear the front door swing by and I'm by the knife block in an instant, the sharpest one in my hand, 'sandwich' forgotten. The footsteps draw closer. Honestly. If they were half as good an assassin as I am, they'd know to walk quieter than that. The person enters the room and I grab them by the front of their shirt and slam them against the nearest wall, holding my knife to their neck.  

"This is getting old, Buck, don't you think?" Steve gently pushes me off and turns the kitchen light on. 

"Sorry." I put the knife back in the knife block. "I thought you were an intruder." 

He takes off his jacket and hangs it up on the coat hook. He knows I thought he was an intruder. I say that every time. He's probably getting real sick of this. 

"What's this?" Steve asks and I look over to see him pointing at my sandwich. 

"Sandwich," I grunt. 

"I think you need something to be between the bread for it to be a sandwich." 

"It's a sandwich," I say, my bad mood evident in my tone. 

"Are you mad at me, Buck?" 

"No." I grab my sandwich from the counter and start making my way toward the bedroom. Before I can get too far, Steve grabs my wrist. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, concern clear in his eyes. 

"Yeah." I yank my hand away from his and continue walking away. 

I sit down on my floor blanket and eat my not-really-a-sandwich.

----------- 

"Longing."

Steve stands in front of me, holding that damn red book. 

"Rusted." 

There's nothing holding me still, but I can't seem to move. 

"Seventeen."

Steve's Russian is perfect. 

"Daybreak." 

I didn't think he spoke any Russian. 

"Furnace." 

Is this a dream? I could have sworn I wasn't with Hydra anymore. 

"Nine." 

Or maybe my freedom was a dream. 

"Benign." 

I thought Steve hated Hydra. 

"Homecoming." 

I know I hate Hydra.

"One." 

But I don't hate Steve. 

"Freight car." 

Why do you hate me, Steve?

"Soldier?" 

"Ready to comply."

-----------

With a sharp inhale, I'm suddenly awake. This is the quietest I've woken up in a while. I check the clock on the table by the bed. 1:42. Early. 

I leave the room and go down the hall a little bit, silently entering Steve's room. 

"Steve?" I whisper. He wakes up almost immediately and props himself up on one elbow. 

"Bucky," he greets groggily, "I didn't hear you wake up." 

"I was quiet," I explain.  

He nods and holds his arms out toward me. He's clearly about to fall back asleep, so I get into the bed with him before he does. He wraps his arms around me and we both lay down. 

"Steve?" I ask, though it's muffled a little by his chest. 

"Yeah?" 

"If you make Jennifer your girlfriend, will we still cuddle?" 

"Of course." 

We both grow silent but it only lasts a moment or two before I'm saying again, "Steve?" 

"Mm?" 

"Could you ever hate me?" 

Steve doesn't reply. I look up at his face to find that he's fallen back asleep. That's okay. I already know the answer.